Ironman Florida Race Report (11/4/23)
9:12:36 (lifetime best)
15th Male 40-44
43rd Overall Amateur
The Build/Pre-Race
After getting my Kona Slot at Chattanooga last year, and deferring to 2024, 2023 was about playing with house money. I set sights on Ironman Florida with the crazy notion a great day could produce a sub 9 hour result. I've come a long way mentally and emotionally over the past 24 months. At the end of 2021, I was ready to quit the sport, there was no joy in competing, and I was training and racing simply because that's what I've always done. Much like swimming in my past life, my identity was inexorably tied to being a triathlete. If not successful at this, what am I?!? I was crippled by imposter syndrome, and no external data point could convince me otherwise. This is objectively silly because the true measure of my life is measured by my family. I'm blessed with an incredible wife, kids, sisters, and in-laws, and I'm sure their love for me has zero connection with athletics...but the space between my ears is a live minefield, and the gift of being analytical is also the curse of being analytical.
I doubled down on therapy, hired a sports psychologist, and made a coaching change, all of which were tinged with uncertainty at the time. The investment paid enormous dividends, and I no longer resemble the athlete or person I was just a short time ago. I've made key changes in how I view myself, and training, and it served me well. My new mantra is to be 1% better than yesterday...every single day. Attempting to be great month over month and year over year is daunting, but being a modest amount better than yesterday feels achievable. To borrow a sher(pa)-ism, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!"
If I have a bad day, no biggie, I have the chance to be 1% better tomorrow. The true gold is finding honesty and consistency in training day-in and day-out. In living this mindset, it is so much easier to rack up daily wins, and my confidence has grown exponentially. It has given me the freedom to adapt sessions around family responsibilities and the realities of getting older. Some days a 42 year old body is a dumpster fire, and most importantly, I never want to sacrifice family time/responsibilities for my hobby.
I never take breaks, but I've learned to take easy days really easy. I've become more durable and able to attack hard days. This is most evident in my run training. The former king of the "grey zone" has become a devout disciple of low and slow HR training (Sorry Dan Szajta, I'm a slow learner). I now place a premium on sleep, and my body has rewarded me immeasurably. I go to bed when the kids go to bed, and I LOVE it. It is not uncommon to go to bed at 8 or 8:30. I'm able to get a solid 8-9 hours sleep and get up early to train in a way that doesn't negatively impact my family (historically not my strong suit). Without question, the most impactful thing I've done is establish a gratitude practice. I keep a journal and have not missed a day since I started almost two years ago. In the beginning, I was so negative that conjuring up three "gratitudes" was a monumental undertaking. Now my gratitudes flow like a waterfall. I strongly believe it's not enough to simply think about being grateful. The magic happens when you physically write it down and speak it into existence. If I could recommend one thing to anyone trying to improve their life, it would be to keep a gratitude journal. My journal has re-wired my brain in such a way that I'm no longer such a pessimist, and it has done wonders to keep my depression at bay.
I recently saw a Kenny Smith quote on TikTok that resonated with my goals. "Champions do daily what everybody else does occasionally. You're not extraordinary, you just do the ordinary extra. That's it. That's what separates you." I am the champion of exactly nothing, but I can be a champion at doing ordinary extra, and I attempt to do so every day. This was the best build I've ever done for an Ironman. No hero workouts, no fireworks, just solid consistent work day after day... having the discipline to repeat ordinary each day. I've not missed a day of training since September of 2022, and I am the most healthy and injury free I've been in years.
After deciding not to do Jones Beach 70.3 (due to a Hurricane), I pivoted into my Ironman block. I was able to string together multiple 18 hour weeks and nail the focus of every session. I genuinely don't remember a single workout that didn't hit. That's not to say there weren't hard/mentally draining days, but even those ended successfully. With each session (particularly the long bricks), I felt a good day was becoming more and more inevitable. The beauty of the incremental approach is the gift of making really hard things seem simultaneously possible and mundane. In fact, leading into the race, my biggest hope was to be so prepared that executing my dream day would feel pedestrian and anti-climactic.
Before traveling to Florida, I celebrated Halloween with my family, and I must say we nailed the family Barbie costumes. I have the unfair advantage of being married to the real Barbie...sorry not sorry Margot, she just is. The flight was uneventful, and I enjoyed a few days in Florida with Mom and Dad leading into the race. The first few days were Mom and I, which was quite lovely because we never get the opportunity to spend time just the two of us. I enjoyed the best part of an Ironman week, connecting with great friends. I got to hang with Ed Boyle, Bryan Schleppy, and catch up with Matt Davis. Bryan was kind enough to let team Royce join team Schleppy for dinner one night and it was lovely meeting his parents, his brother, Jeff (also a bad ass athlete) and his partner Sam (fresh off Kona in her own right). A significant part of the beauty of this crazy sport is people. I've met and become friends with the most inspiring individuals. I have endless respect for anyone willing to test themselves for months only to voluntarily accept 9 to 17 hours of immense physical and emotional suffering for a medal and a few slices of pizza.
Truthfully, the physical ability to suffer is the gift. I take an inordinate amount of pride in knowing every part of myself. During the course of an Ironman I meet all facets of personality, good and bad. To quote Jim Valvano, "If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of day!" Every Ironman has played out this way. I've laughed, cried, thought, and felt every emotion. What a gift! Every race, good or bad, is a heck of day! I know exactly what I'm made of, and I'm willing to push far enough to know if those goalposts can continue to move further outward. So few people avail themselves of this opportunity. I realise that Ironman is not for everyone, but I encourage everyone to find ways to push their limits in a way that fits their interests and passions. The good stuff is always just on the other side of the canyon.
Despite having done this a million times, the 48 hours leading into the race is predictable. The same two negative thought bubbles break the surface: 1) you are too fat to go fast, and 2) the task before you is so enormous that you (i.e. me) are not prepared to face it. Neither of these things are true, but pesky facts don't keep the mental gremlins at bay. I shamelessly asked mom and dad to confirm I hadn't put on 20 pounds during taper, and utilised mindfulness techniques to get me over the hump (another amazing tool I have added to my arsenal), and I felt calm(ish) as the last sleep closed in.
The night before the race was the 8 year anniversary of my Uncle Bob's suicide (my dad called him Doodle). Honestly, I feel ashamed to admit this hadn't crossed my radar until I saw an emotional social post from my sister. But when it hit me, my goal of sub 9 came into focus more sharply, and decided I would strive to put up a time with an 8 in front of it to honour his passing and impact on our lives. Uncle Doodle would be with me all day, and I'm thankful for that (more on that to come).
If you have made it this far, you deserve a gold star for surviving my pontificating. I appreciate you hanging with me, and without further adieu, on to the race!!!!
Swim: 55:48
Slept well (by pre-race standards), and alarm was set for 4:15. I woke minutes before the alarm and immediately ate 100g of carbs (oatmeal). I added a bit of trail mix for a modicum of protein, fat and fiber. I went to transition, checked my bike and bags, and came back to the hotel for about an hour. I mostly stared into space watching the clock tick away and tried to get myself into the right head space. Dad and I headed to the beach at about 6:15 to prepare for the 6:50 a.m. start. I sipped half a Maurten 320 right up to swim start (40g carbs). Dad and I got separated before start cannon, but shortly before my corral was led to the water, we found each other, made eye contact, and he took one of my favourite race pictures ever. I was calm and ready to execute. I gave him the A-OK sign and did a quick breathing exercise.
The swim course is a two loop rectangle going around a pier. The pier was quite helpful for sighting purposes and allowed me to swim really efficient lines. The plan was to stay loose and easy, burn no matches, and engage cruise control. The sun rising over my shoulder was spectacular. Most of the swim I watched the sun rise and enjoyed the privilege of my swim background affording the ability to swim well while enjoying my surroundings. The soft sand run on the beach between loops was tiring and definitely caused a HR/lactate spike, and the second loop was way more crowded as I overlapped with later corrals. There was a crazy amount of jellyfish at the far end of the course. It was like swimming through ghosts. It was wild! Most of them were small, but I saw a few big mamas out there. I was happy to be wearing a wetsuit to protect from unwanted stings.
The second loop went by much faster than the second. On the way back towards the beach I had the first of several conversations with Doodle. I'm not religious (in fact quite the opposite), but felt compelled to talkwith him. I thanked him for being with me, and hoped he was enjoying the sunrise with me. What a morning Doodle! Help me have a day!
I exited the swim right on target and made my way through transition which included a long run up the beach and across the street. I hit the change tent and immediately took a Maurten 100 gel (25g carbs). Time to settle in for 112 fast miles!
Bike: 4:37:14, 24.3 mph, Avg HR 135, Avg Power 230
I've worked tirelessly to become quite strong on the bike over the last 10 years. I'm capable of throwing down big watts, but have learned that the real value of bike strength is the ability to be fast while holding back plenty for the run. My strategy was entirely HR and carb based. I was to ride between 130-135 BPM with a HR cap of 135. Power was a secondary metric, and based on data should have equated to a range of 240-260 Watts. I anticipated that large draft packs would form due to the pancake flat topography, and resigned to stick to my plan and not pull anyone along. In terms of calories, I aimed for 100-110g of carbohydrate/hour. I pulled out all the aero accoutrements including a bottle down the jersey, aero calf sleeves, ice friction chain, EZ Gains chain ring cover, and sparkly new Premier 90 front wheel with Continental TT rubber front and back.
My caloric breakdown was as follows:
Hour 1: Maurten 320 (80g carb), Maurten 100 gel (25g carb), sip Gatorade Endurance (44g carb), and as much water as I could swallow through the aid stations (started the bike with 3 pre-mixed bottles of 320)
Hour 2-3: Same
Hour 4- Bike Finish: focus on Gatorade Endurance with three Maurten Gels
I handled intake well with no stomach discomfort or bloating. I've trained myself to handle 100g/hr comfortably, and moving forward I can continue to push the body up to 120g/hour (maybe more). The ability to cram additional carbs has paid huge dividends in my ability to not sh*t the bed on the run. With benefit of hindsight, I know the vast majority of my race efforts were VASTLY under fueled. One oddity was that despite moderate temps, I peed ALOT. I peed about 7 times during the course of the ride. I was concerned it would throw my electrolytes out of balance, but this fear would not come to bear.
The bike race played out both expectedly and unexpectedly. The whole ride I was thinking "I am riding so easy, I want to ride harder", but I stayed disciplined and stuck to the script. As anticipated, packs formed (though earlier than I was anticipating). There were many strong swimmers (also strong riders) so a pack formed within 20 miles. I became stuck in a group of about 25-35 guys with pro females amongst us. Unexpected was 90% of the athletes in this group were racing fair. Anyone familiar with an Ironman bike course knows they often degrade into draft tests with rampant cheating. However, this group was surprisingly honest. It didn't hurt we had two draft marshals with us the entire time. One at the front and one at the rear of the line. Fairness and honesty was a welcome change of pace.
The result of all this sportsmanship was a line of riders strung out for what seemed like a quarter mile. This meant there was no way to get free without burning major matches. To get to the front would have required a 15-20 minute effort way above Ironman pace. I resigned myself to stay off the back and ride legal. At times it got very frustrating hanging off the back feeling like I was out for a coffee cruise, but the flip side is that there was a huge aerodynamic benefit despite legal distancing This is borne out in my average power of 230 which was about 10 watts lower than what it should have been for the given HR.
Though the course was flat, there were inevitable sections where a headwind/bridge crossing/slight incline would cause the line to accordion, so despite being a flat course, the ride was a bit more "surge-y" than I would have liked. Staying off the back meant each time the line started to stretch I would have to surge to keep 2 bike lengths off the back. This may have had some impact on the back half of the run, but I managed as best I could.
Coach and I agreed to not even consider "racing" until at least mile 75 of the ride. When I arrived at the final turn around, I decided it was time to make a Maurten move 👀😅😅👀. I had stayed disciplined and was ready for a dig. The final stretch into town is slightly downhill with a tailwind. I let it rip for about 10-15 minutes and got away from the group. I was flying!!! There are few feelings that equate to riding a bike really fast.... the freedom, the exhilaration, it's quite a rush. It felt good knowing I had power in reserve and could ride away from strong riders if necessary. However, after settling back into pace, the group dynamics were too strong and a smaller group of about 15 re-formed. Again, everyone staying legal (what a mitzvah!!). I got back on the HR train and fell to the back of the line and remained there until the end of the ride. It was time to start thinking about a strong marathon. We were coming up on Doodle time... let's go for a run!!!!
Run: 3:29:27, 7:59/mile, Avg HR 145
1st Half- 1:44:12 (1 bathroom stop)
2nd Half- 1:45;15 (1 bathroom stop)
Running into transition I was STIFF. I was actually worried since I had ridden so conservatively, but the body warmed up quickly, and by the time I was on the run course proper, the body started to loosen up. Strategically, an Ironman doesn't really start until the second half of an Ironman marathon. In honesty, I've never had a well executed Ironman marathon. I've had a few with good 20 mile efforts, but none where I was well and truly racing in the last 10K. Last year at Chattanooga was my closest, but there was still room to grow.
Again, the plan was entirely HR and carb based. Plan to run at 145 BPM (150 BPM HR cap) and consume 60g of carbs per hour. The first half marathon was supposed to feel like an easy endurance run so I could turn the screw on the back half. Pacing 8:15-8:30/mile.
Nutritionally, I executed as follows:
Hours 1-3: Maurten 160 (40g carbs) at :30, 1:30, 2:30, Maurten 100 (25g carbs) at :60, 2:00, 3:00. Alternate gatorade/coke/water for hydration/caffeine.
Last 30 min: whatever it takes!!!!
The course is a 6.5 mile out and back along the beach road. Nothing fancy, dial and flow. Despite feeling a little stiff, my HR went to 145-150, but I was too fast. First mile was 7:20, and as enticing it was to let it ride, I hit the brakes. In fact, I deliberately went into the bathroom at Mile 2 to bring the HR down and get my pace into check. This would turn out to be a smart decision. My HR normalised at 145 and I was running just slightly above target pace. I focused entirely on nutrition and run form. In the last 6 months I have spent a lot of time on run drills and it's paying dividends. My form held and my body would degrade far less on the back half.
Much like the bike, the front half felt almost too easy, and I noticed that during the second half of the first lap my HR was coming down and so was my pace...win/win! I was also starting to feel great. At the turn, I was feeling good and felt inspired to talk to Doodle. I asked if he could help me get to mile 20 feeling strong, I would race that last 10K for him. When I passed dad, I let him know I was thinking of him (you can hear me say "Uncle Bob" as I ran by).
I was in a flow state from miles 13-18. My HR was locked in at 145 and my pace was dropping. Eat, drink, form check...repeat. Check the boxes, be racing at mile 20. During this section, visions of a massive negative split were dancing like endurance fairies through my head.
Predictably, pain began to set in at mile 18, but it was manageable, and by mile 22-23 it was gut check time. There is no way for me to accurately describe the hell your body feels when it decides it's had enough 8.5 hours into a race. Every fiber of your body, mind and soul is screaming at you stop, but Doodle got me to 20 ready to race, and I wasn't about to renege on my mission statement. I got a touch desperate as the discomfort increased exponentially, and started grabbing everything in the aid stations. I accidentally grabbed a Red Bull (which I never drink because it's disgusting), and it made me feel significantly better. The rest of the rest of the way it was Red Bull... I guess I'm a convert, because it gave me wings when I needed them most.
Miles 23-25 were truly awful. I started having hamstring cramps and was running on a knife edge. I had to continuously alter my gait to keep the lockdown at bay, but against all odds was able to do so. My pace slowed, but I never stopped. My disastrous miles were two 8:20's back to back (previously unheard of for me). Dreams of a negative split were gone, but I was keeping pace, and an even split was possible!!! I knew my best was on display, and was wringing everything out of myself those last miles. I never once looked at my overall time because slavish execution was my guide. I assumed I would be north of 9 hours, but "felt" I may get under 9:10. Let the chips fall where they may.
I was able to dial pace down in the final mile under 8:00/mile, and crossed the finish chute completely gassed. I emptied the tank. I gave everything to honour Uncle Bob. This was the deepest I've gone in race. It felt so awful, but so rewarding to showcase months of work. I am so proud which is not something I say about myself easily. I wasn't sub 9, but it was a lifetime best by 6 minutes. It included my best marathon with an even split to boot. I previously thought this was a pipe dream. I'm left with the feeling, that I can and will negative split an Ironman marathon. I also know my best performances are in front of me and I am hungry for more. That is a pretty exceptional feeling in my 40s.
I've spent this week doing lots of active recovery. My poor dog is in the best shape of his life. We have walked up a storm, and it's allowed me to bounce back quickly. I've started easing back into running, and it is now officially trail running season. This year was a success on every level, and has inspired me toward even bigger goals for next year culminating with Kona next October.
As always, thank you for reading. These blog posts are a ton of work, but help me process my successes, failures and emotions. It always amazes me that anyone is willing to read them. I appreciate every person who supports, encourages me, and is interested enough to follow my journey. As always, I am an open book and happy to discuss anything about my life, training, racing, preparation, mental health, etc. I love to share my mistakes, what I've learned, and help anyone in anyway I can.
I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving and Holiday season. Thanks for reading!
Ironman Florida Race Report (11/4/23)
