Half year half ironman

As I mentioned last week, to celebrate half a year of sobriety, half a year of being smoke-free (that one was much easier to kick), and best of all, half a year dedicated to not letting anyone else dictate how I spend my free time but me, I decided to do a half ironman. Quick transitions weren't important, just that I smooshed a 1.2 mile swim, a 56-mile bike, and a 13.1 mile run into one day.

Pregame: The week before

I'm in the middle of a 2-week experiment in high volume (which I'll explain soon in another post that I've already started writing), so I'd already put in 19 hours of total training in the 7 days before including:
~42.1 miles of running in three sessions (a 16-miler on Sunday, an 8-mile speed workout on Tuesday, and an 18-miler on Wednesday)
~9,700 yards in the pool
~Only 6 hours on the trainer (bike-heavy week is next week)
My legs were decidedly not-so-fresh, and I was having some trouble getting the crusty bits out them after Wednesday's 2nd long run in 4 days. My shoulders were also feeling pretty sore after a 4,000 yd workout on Thursday, followed by some short speed sets on Friday where I didn't like the woman behind me, so I swam superfast to show her who was boss.

The Swim
I woke up at 5:30 am to be in the pool when it opened at 6:30. As I sat down to write down my workout, I realized that I don't actually know how long a half ironman swim is?? Ok, let's think about this: an ironman swim is 2.4 miles, a mile is 1620 meters, 1600 meters is 66 lengths of a 25-meter pool... but oh shit, my pool's in yards, not meters. Well what do I do now? Rather than spend 20 minutes crunching numbers, I wrote a workout with a warmup, some speed-building drills, and a 2,000-yard straight time trial for a total of 3,300 yards. Actually, 1.2 miles is 2,112 yards, but let's just say I swam off course. You don't get disqualified for cutting buoys in Claire Triathlons.

My arms were still pretty upset about the workouts from the previous two days, so I found it hard to pull any speed out of my ass, but I managed to keep the pace above a coast for 80 laps. I had pulled my cap down tight, but in the last 500 meters I could feel it slipping off my head. At least it gave me something to think about other than 62... 63... 64..., but it made the last 20 lengths seem to last even longer, in the same way a 20-minute meeting can seem to last forever if you've got an itch on your butt. In the last 50 yards it finally slid off the back of my head. When I turned around it hit me in the face on its way down to the bottom of the deep end. I finished in 32:47 with hair all in my face and swam back to fish my cap from under 9 feet of water. My average speed was 1:38 per 100 yards, not stellar, but it would have to do.

T1: In Claire triathlons transitions don't count

I took a shower, went home, made myself a well-balanced breakfast, read some e-mails, took an hour packing up my car, and drove three hours down to meat Iron Bob down in Woodbury, CT. The highlight of T1 was that I parallel parked! Claires do not parallel park, it's just not something we do. If I'm looking for a parking space and I see a parallel parking spot then I just keep going, that is not a space for Claire. But I pulled in in no more than 3 turns of the wheel! It was beautiful, you could have set it to music. When I came back out, there was a cop writing a ticket for someone who had parked illegally. I wanted to tap the cop on the shoulder and say, "You see that car parked over there? Isn't it beautiful? I did that." But strangers don't usually get my sense of humor, so I let it go. It was spectacular, though.

T1 time: roughly 5 hours and 45 minutes.

The Bike
I was already waiting in the parking lot when Bob-O showed up and we talked bike components while he suited up. "Hey, look, Bobby! My pants are fuzzy on the inside! Feel!" I said, holding out the elastic waistband so he could feel. (It's our joke, and the reply is, "No, I will not stick my hand down your pants!"). When I looked down, I saw the tag staring back up at me. Damn, my pants were on backwards. They would be slipping down my butt for the rest of the day. Luckily, I had bike shorts underneath, but it was still uncomfortable. Things slipping off was beginning to

The weather was sunny and beautiful, but madd windy. Not as windy as the day before with the 50 mph winds, but still a windy day for a bike. We took off and immediately started climbing. I've gotten used to the fact that Connecticut is a hilly place (let me tell you, I was QUITE upset the first time I figured THAT out), but I'm still not happy about it. The bike was going to be a real wild card. I hadn't ridden on the road since my last outdoor ride with Bobby in November when we froze our poor little toes off. I have NO climbing legs anymore! What the hell are you doing to us?! my legs screamed. Stop this shit or I'll quit! said my heart. Do any of you (ex-) Bostonians know any good climbing routs around here by the way?


After about an hour we got to the lake where we had nothing but the gusting headwind to slow us down, thank God. Bob answered all my questions about ironman, including the great mystery of what happens in the transition areas. Apparently, you get your own personal footman. How exciting! We talked about the advantages of me blowing 3 grand on a really, really nice road bike, or splitting it over two medium-grade bikes (a tri-bike and a road bike). We discussed theology, love, politics, how to sneak hills into my running (I always MEAN to do them, but I just hate them SO, so much!), and how he needs to forget about New Zealand next year and come to Disney with us. Speed wasn't really a concern (at least not for me). I was loving just riding by Bobby's side and enjoying his company. My toes may have frozen off, the wind may have been blowing over 20mph in places, but I was so happy to be back out on the road. With all these trainer sessions, I was beginning to really dislike cycling lately. Now I was looking forward to more verses of "The Claire Went Over the Mountain."

Well, I was looking forward to more verses of "The Claire Went Over the Mountain", but not necessarily today. We still had to get back to the cars, and there was one short and steep climb before the long downhill back home. As the gradient pitched up near 15% I groaned and swore and Bob said, "All work and no play make Bob's legs a something, something." I'd been feeling fine just a few minutes ago at the lake, but now I was feeling very nervous about the half marathon I had coming up. Luckily, my legs came back on the way back down. We followed a slightly different rout back on the Worst Paved Road in All of Connecticut. I was riding close behind Bob's sexy butt (I bet he has a Tour de France butt under there), and couldn't really see the road in front of me. I must have hit every pothole on the Worst Paved Road in All of Connecticut, it's a wonder I didn't get a flat or break a wrist. "I hope you didn't want kids, Bobby!" I yelled, as my teeth banged together as I rode over even more holes in 3 levels of pavement.

We weren't in any real hurry, but still kept consistent speeds between
15 and 20 mph in the middle section around the lake while chatting and
chomping away.

We got back to the parking lot at exactly 55 miles, and did some loops around the parking lot to hit exactly 56 miles. Total time: 3:26:28. Average speed: 16.3 mph. I was quite happy with that, since I hadn't ridden hard at all, we'd done some climbing, and I'd been sitting up a lot in the wind. I felt like I'd left a lot on reserve, and I could have gone much harder in a race situation. (You don't have to hurry in a Claire Triathlon). My legs still felt pretty good, and I was ready to hit the road.

T2: Reminder: Transitions don't count in a Claire Triathlon

Bob-O was going to keep me company for the first half of the run, but as we were loading our bikes in our cars Momma Bob called. She needed stuff for Easter dinner, and she needed it now, before Bob went off to serve little chunks of Jesus at mass. Once we were back in running shoes I watched Bob walk. "Bob, are you... limping?"
"No, my quads are just a little shot," he said. I wanted to feel like I was the stronger one, then I realized that he probably wasn't even fully recovered from Ironman yet. Damn.

As smelly as we were, we waltzed into a fancy restaurant and asked to use the bathroom. As we were leaving, Bob whispered to me, "We have to get Angry to take us here sometime." It did smell good, especially since it was about 5:30 and I hadn't eaten anything since that dried-out bagel in my car at noon.

Bob showed me where to park my car and gave me three options for my run loop: 1) The Griskus bike loop (10 mi), then the run loop, 2) 4 laps of the Griskus run loop, 3) Run that way, follow the sidewalk, turn around when it ends.

T2: Roughly 25 minutes.

The Run: Fuck you, in a Claire Triathlon I can do whatever I want!
I chose to follow the sidewalk, since it seemed least likely that I'd get lost and started running. As I started sweating again, my whole face BURNED from all the dried salt left on my face from the bike. I would have given anything for some water to splash on my face. I even thought of splashing water from an irrigation ditch on my face to stop the burning. Come to think of it, I could really use some water to drink, too. I had Accelerade in my water bottle, but I was getting pretty damn sick of the taste of limes and sweeteners. Unfortunately, there were no stores along the rout, and by the time I passed a couple of gas stations, my face had stopped burning so much, so I kept going. I just wanted to get this over with.

Distance vs. Elevation. Sorry for the poor quality,
I had to pull this graph off the end of the bike stats and zoom.

I was pleased at how quickly I got my running legs back, until I noticed that I was running downhill, and had been for about 2 miles straight. Then the next 2 miles were still downhill. In a brief uphill section I got a taste for what I was in for: my Garmin beeped at me to speed up and I gasped for air. Oh god, this sucks, this REALLY sucks! I could run, but not hard, and not up. After a little over 4 miles I lost the sidewalk and had to turn back. That was when all hell broke loose: roughly 350' of climbing over 4 miles. I managed to run for much of the uphill, but there were times when I said, "Fuck it, I'm walking!" And walk I did. I tried to keep the pace up to keep my Garmin from going on autopause, but gol-ly it was cold when I started walking. It was nearing sunset and the temperature was dropping. Then I started looking at electrical poles and noticed there were no lights at the top of them, I was going to have to hurry to finish while there was still some daylight.

Distance vs. Speed. Sorry for the poor quality,
I had to pull this graph off the end of the bike stats.

When I got back to the car I had already psyched myself up for another 4 miles and change. I would try to find something flat and run on that, even if I had to run in circles. But when I hit the car I looked around and saw that I was standing at the crest of a tall hill with a road running down each side one way, and dark woods all around. Well, then I psyched myself run another 2 miles downhill, and then there would be nothing left to do but come back up. My water bottle was empty and I refilled it from my camelbak... only there was hardly anything left in the bladder, maybe only about 6 ounces. I was thirsty. I started down the other side of the hill, but then, only about a quarter mile away the sidewalk ended. Then the audiobook on my iPod ended, and I had no new audio to listen to. I hadn't thought to put some music at the end, so it was either A Prairie Home Companion that I'd already listened to, or silence. And I was getting cold. I made an executive decision: 9.5 miles was enough. The committee convened and decided that when you're running on a hill, by yourself, it's getting dark, you run out of water, and you don't know the area, 9.5 miles is just about the same as 13.1 miles. My legs still felt pretty good and I could have kept running, but it was time to call it a day.

Final run stats: 9.52 miles, 1:34:38 (including walking), average pace: 9:56 min/mi (including walking). When all was said and done, I was pretty happy with myself. If I had to do an organized half ironman tomorrow (with water stops, no stop signs, and not nearly as many hills), I think I could do it comfortably in around 5:30. Maybe less if I was rested.

Post Race: Angry's Secret that I promised I wouldn't tell, but I'm going to tell anyway.

I showed up at Angry's front door about half an hour later shivering like crazy and looking as pathetic as I possibly could. He let me take THE best shower of my life before we went to Ruby Tuesday's for dinner, where I ate so fast it threatened to slip right through the other side, and drank about 3 liters of water. We had a very nice conversation about how we could get Angry out of his "emo" funk, about new road bikes and tri bikes, about Goofy, about me beating Bob at something someday. "I'm trying to figure out how you could do it. It's gotta be on the bike. I say you challenge him to a straight-up time trial someday."
"No, that would be no fun!" I said. "I'm competitive with his times, I don't want to BEAT Bob himself!" Bob behind me in a race situation is a scary, scary thought. I feel like I should explain that goal: my only goal is to be able to say that at one point in time, when I was in my best shape, I was on par with Bobby at one point in time, not necessarily in his best shape ever. I don't want to take him down or anything, sheesh.

As we were driving back to Angry's house from the restaurant we drove along a wooded area. It was dark, but I could see something small and furry loaping out into the road. It was a rabbit. Angry saw it,too and swerved to miss, but the rabbit ran in the same direction and got caught square under the wheel with a thump. "Oh my God, Angry! YOU KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!!!"
"I didn't mean to! I tried to miss it!" he said. He seemed really upset about it.

So, if any of you woke up this morning and didn't find any chocolate eggs around the house, no matter how hard you looked, you know who to blame!