2024 Ironman World Championship: A good (not great) day. I belong at the dance, but can be so much better! 10:12:07 on a B-/C+ day

It's been a year since my last blog post and what a year it's been!  While I have felt athletic successes, my work and personal life has been a struggle for reasons I won't bore you with.  In short, it has been a stressful year, and without the steady influence of sport in my life, I might have cracked.  Triathlon is  one place were I can always go to control my effort, my body, and the level of suffering I am willing to endure.  Training allows me to clear my mind, relieve stress, and become the best version of myself.  I am most grateful for this outlet and even more grateful to have a family that allows me to fit it into our lives.

Kona 2024 was a long time coming...I earned my spot in Chattanooga in September 2022, and after World Champs was moved to Nice, France in 2023, I deferred my slot to 2024.  By the time I hit the line in Kona, it had been 25 months since my KQ.  During that time, I've continued to work with my coach Matt Hurley (Wyld Endurance), and continued work on myself through therapy, journaling, mindfulness, and a gratitude practice.  I've also had the incredible opportunity to join an upstart Tri Team called TopGunz.  TopGunz has been really rewarding, I love my teammates, and the overall vibe of the squad.  I look forward to helping grow the team in the future.  

Since my KQ, I have run several marathons, IMFL in 11/2023, and six 70.3's.  This Summer I hit a great stretch of podiums at Chatt 70.3, Maine 70.3, and Louisville 70.3.  In both Maine and Louisville, I had a significant lead off the bike only to squander the AG win with an average run.  I continue to believe my best runs are in front of me, and one day soon I will be able to take an AG win.  I continue to grow as an athlete and believe my best days are in front of me.

My biggest flex as an athlete is my ability to be consistent.  As of writing this post, my last day off was September 27, 2022.  That is 766 consecutive days of exercise...no matter what.  Sickness, work travel, life stress, and family commitments have all been tended to without having to miss a fitness day.  The key is that some of those days are very easy, like go for a 30 minute walk easy.  I am also on day 3591 of logging every meal.  While it seems crazy (and it is), I find freedom in discipline and safety in suffering.  There was a time when this was a recipe for disaster.  I was overtrained, overworked, tired, stressed, and had an unhealthy obsession with my weight.  I was absent as a dad/husband and my life was totally out of balance.  Through therapy and coaching, I have been able to find a balance where I can reap the rewards of consistency without causing myself and family unnecessary physical and mental health issues.  I am confidently a great dad, and do my level best to be a husband worthy of a wife way out of my league.  

In the build up to Kona I was able to hit 8 straight 17+ hour training weeks and my weight hit its lowest point since my KQ in 2017.  There were no hero workouts, just honest, consistent, daily work.  I was unequivocally in the best shape of my life and hopeful for a fast day.  All signs were pointing go and I was excited to get to the big island to test my fitness.

Pre-Race

The blessing and curse of having such a supportive family is that they are there with me every step of the way.  I am so fortunate to have loved ones willing to follow me to the other side of the world to help support me in what is ultimately a silly hobby.  I'm 43 and my whole family supports my sporting endeavors as though I was at an age group swim meet 30 years ago.  However, this means there were 17 of us in Kona which is lovely, but quite stressful.  We had 6 kids under the age of 9, and that produces rambunctious energy difficult to corral.  With my training and pre-race schedule, I had to rely on Britt to keep the wheels on the bus, and as always, she covered my butt and was a real star in the times I couldn't be present.  She did a superlative job caring for our (and everyone's kids).  The best part of the trip was that all 6 cousins got to play in paradise for 10 days and created memories they will never forget.  I would be remiss if I didn't give a special shout out to Jeanna Bouzek and her partner Shay who followed me all the way to Hawaii.  Jeanna was my first swim coach at 8 years old and has spent the last 35 years supporting and loving me in a way that no one really deserves.  I hope anyone reading this is fortunate enough to have a Jeanna in their life.

There were a few stressful pre-race moments.  We arrived on the island on 10/19 and upon re-assembling my bike, found that my electronic shifting was completely dead and wouldn't charge.  Thanks to the kind folks at Bike Works Kona, they tore down the bike and found a Di2 cable that had gone bad and got the system up and running again.  I missed a few last minute training sessions, but it likely did not impact my race performance.  Also, the day after getting my bike back, my power meter stopped working, but that miraculously righted itself before race day.  Perhaps the biggest issue was that I sliced the bottom of my foot pretty badly two days before the race.  Though it might not be evident in the photo, this is the heel of my left foot.  This picture was  after a few days of keeping it packed and healing.  I probably needed stitches, but at this juncture, I had no choice but to bandage and run through the pain.  While the pain wasn't severe, it was similar to running with a rock in my shoe, so every step felt a sharp stab in my heel.

We went as a family to a local beach to sea turtles ("see" what I did there) and my sweet little Chandler persuaded me to walk onto the rocks so we could see them closer.  The ground was clearly jagged, and I knew it, yet trudged into the water without shoes.  100 yards out into the water I slipped and while trying to keep Chandler safe ended up slicing open the bottom of my foot.  I was so angry with myself...but I won't regret taking Chandler to see the turtles or being a present dad.

Through the course of the trip, it was lovely to see my girls spread their wings, Sloanie in particular.  Early in the week, we drove 90 minutes to Southpoint to go cliff jumping.  It was a 50-60 foot jump into the ocean that felt like you were jumping off the end of the world.  During the drive, Sloane said she wanted to do it, but upon arrival, I was skeptical that it would be safe or smart.  Britt and I jumped first, and after seeing us do it, Sloane wanted to try.  She could not be convinced otherwise!  She stepped up to the edge 25 times and each time got scared and backed away.  Britt and I were reassuring her that it was okay, and she didn't need to do it, but with an uncharacteristic grit in her voice, she insisted she was going to jump.  It took her about 30 minutes of feigned attempts before she stepped up to the ledge and jumped.  It was such a proud dad moment.  My little girl is so brave and such a bad ass.  Seeing her overcome her fear entirely on her own gives me the confidence that she can be and do anything she wants in this life.  I just hope in this next week she can see that includes being President of this great country.

In a week that could be best be described as "Sloanie Week", Sloanie also did her first multi-sport event, caught her first waves on a boogie board in a heavy shore break, and climbed a volcano.  Not to be outdone by her big sister, Chandler did her first Ironkids race, and with the help of Britt managed to complain her way through the finish line.  A few other high points were the Underpants Run with my teammates, and getting to meet Jan Frodeno, one of my sport heroes and the GOAT of triathletes.  Other highlights were the Ho'ala training swim, multiple Acai bowls, and family beach time at Magic Sands.  Now that I have sufficiently bored you with the non-race stuff, it's time to bore you with the actual race stuff.

Race Day/Pre-Race Morning

I slept uncharacteristically well the night before and got a whopping 6 hours
sleep.  I'm usually lucky to get 3-4!  I woke up and ate two packages of protein oatmeal with 2% milk and a single serve applesauce (94P/15F/28P).  I headed down to transition with Jeanna and Mom at about 5 a.m.  The transition in Kona is totally different than all other Ironman races for one major reason.  The volunteers hype every single athlete up like they are the champion of the world.  The cheering and encouragement is incredible.  You feel like a rock star traveling through the long transition, and it is such an awesome and inspiring way to begin the day.  I had one mission on the day, no matter how my performance shook out, I was going to enjoy every moment and be grateful for being able to suffer in such a beautiful setting.

Once you get to the bikes, the actual transition area is more calm than other races.  There are ample

pumps, and the athletes seem to have their routines dialed in.  It is deceptively less stressful than transitions of other races which has the effect of lulling you into a false sense of security of what will come later.  

The last time I did Kona there was a mass swim start so this is the first time I had a wave start.  The pro men started at 6:30 and my wave didn't start until 7:10.  Watching the pro men go off is always exciting and you can feel the energy in the air with all the fans.  There are thousands of people lined up on the flood wall near Dig Me Beach.  It's an unbelievable sight!  Unfortunately, a 7:10 start meant a lot of standing around in a corral.  Fortunately, my family found a good spot on the flood wall ,and I was able to spend time with them pre-race.  I also found teammates and ex-teammates in the corral and was able to kill time with friendly banter.  I sipped on a bottle of Maurten 320 during this period and consumed about 2/3 of a bottle (55C).  The time passed quickly, and before I knew it we were being shuffled into the water for about 5 minutes of treading water before the gun went off.

Swim- 57:48

My biggest worry going into the swim was whether the bandages on my foot would hold up.  If not, I knew I would have to stop in medical in T1 to tend my foot before jamming it in my bike shoes. I was a bit concerned of the prospect of having sugar water and urine flowing into an open wound for five hours. Unfortunately, the bandages lasted less than 100 yards before I felt them slide off and could feel water flowing through the gash in my foot. 

The swim strategy was find feet, and take it easy.  The waved start made it much less violent and hectic than 2018, and it didn't take long to find clean water.  In the lead up to the race, every ocean swim was super slow and I did not anticipate having a very fast swim.  It felt like I was passing people the whole way, but I had no sense of where I was within the AG field.  There was someone drafting me the entire swim leg and tapped my feet on every stroke.  This was annoying, but it's the nature of the beast in these events.  Given how relaxed the effort was, I was pleasantly surprised that I was seven minutes faster than the practice swim earlier in the week.  57 minutes is super slow for me, but I achieved the mission of not burning any matches and keeping relaxed.  In particular, I tried to enjoy the sea life swimming below me.  How many people get to compete in a world championship in an aquarium?  

There were jellyfish in the shallows as we came into T1 and I got stung on my right elbow/forearm. I've been stung before, but this one hurt!!! My arm was barking at me well into the bike.  I know that I was going to have to stop in medical to get my foot bandaged which meant that my transition times would be quite slow, but it was smart to keep my foot as safe as possible given what I was about to do to it (and the rest of my body).  A wonderful volunteer helped me dress my foot as well as we could.  Ultimately, its pretty tough to bandage a soaking wet, sandy foot.  We did the best we could and I put on a sock to try and keep everything in place.  The rest of T1 was slow though uneventful.  I opted to put my bike shoes on at my rig and ran to the mount line in my bike shoes.  I am not coordinated for flying mounts!

Bike: 4:55:40, Avg HR 136, Avg Power 230 (hot garbage)

Given my weight and bike training, I anticipated a bike split in the 4:40s.  I rode 4:53 in 2018 and am much lighter and more fit this year.  The game plan was to ride conservatively by heartrate with a target of 135 and cap of 140.  This should have put me somewhere in the 250-260 range, but the power was simply not matching up with the heartrate.  I kind of forgot how sneaky hard the Kona bike course is.  There is a significant amount of overall elevation gain, and the first miles up Palani and on the Kuakini Highway are kind of tough with an elevated HR coming out of the water.  Once you get out on the Queen K, the mental aspect comes into play.  The majority of the bike course is like riding on a foreign planet.  There is hilly road as far as the eye can see flanked by black lava rock on both sides of the course.  It is desolate, and the only people are either at the aid stations or a few specific resorts and small towns.  It is mostly you against yourself and the elements.  I forgot how far 112 miles feels when you are doing an out and back on Mars.  

Blessedly, the day started out overcast and cool, but as soon as I made the turn at Kawaihae towards Hawi the clouds parted and the winds picked up.  It started getting really hot and it was roasting at the turn at Hawi.  The fastest and most fun part of the course is typically the descent from Hawi, but this was mooted by the cross/headwind and heat that increased significantly.  I got the sense that many people over biked the early miles when it was cool because I felt  I was moving through the field well on the back half of the bike course (despite not feeling or moving particularly fast),.  However, I was pretty uncomfortable, and didn't  feel as good as expected given my taper.  In hindsight, I think my HR was artificially high because I was getting sick.  In the days following the race, I developed a nasty chest infection and I'm quite sick as I type this.  The danger of getting really skinny and fit is that your immune system is constantly compromised.  As has been said before, there is a thin line between fit and f*cked!

Typically I am ready to get off the bike at about mile 90-100 in an Ironman, but in Kona I was ready to be done at 60-70...never a good sign.  The head wind was a silent beatdown, and I was getting up out of aero a lot to push more power on some of the rolling hills (also not a good sign).  By the time I was rolling back into town my mindset was poor and I was anticipating a very slow and painful run.  I am glad  I rode conservatively, because had I not, the run likely would have even gone worse. 

As far as nutrition and cooling, I had three bottles of NeverSecond C90 on board and 5 Neversecond C30 Gels.  I took all three bottles and 4 of the 5 gels.  This amounted to 430 grams of carbohydrate, plus a bottle of coke I took at one of the aid stations.  I added table salt to my C90 to account for the hot and humid conditions which was not noticeable from a taste standpoint.  I tried to get 45 oz of fluids per hour and I was guzzling water and dumping it over my head at each and every aid station.  I'm not positive, but think I was pretty close to the 45 oz target.  I peed twice on the bike but it wasn't until mile 80 which makes me wonder if I was slightly underhydrated.  It seems difficult that I could have consumed more fluids without feeling sloshy.

Overall, my bike performance was meh.  I was in the top third of bike splits for the AG which is good considering how flat I felt.  It gives me confidence that I have a much better day in me, and that my bike continues to be a huge strength.  Coming into T2, I knew I would have to get back to medical to re-dress my foot wound.  I had similar issues as T1 which made for a very slow transition.  The same lovely volunteer helped re-dress my foot and I headed out on the run with some negative thoughts bouncing around between my ears.

Run: 4:06:05, 9:18/mile

The run leg was a universe unto itself.  During the course of the run I experienced three different races within one!  As I ran onto the course, my mindset was poor, and I already decided it was going to be a long slow day.  As you can imagine, this is not a great attitude to carry into a 90 degree marathon in lava fields!  I knew my family was going to be at the run turn around at Ali'i which is about 3.5 miles into the course.  I decided I would run to my family, take a moment to appreciate them, take as much positive energy I could from them, and re-assess.  The interesting thing about the Kona run course is that you do the first 8 or so miles in town and you can harness the energy and excitement of fans for well over an hour.  The flip side is that this portion of the run is the most humid and can often feel hotter on Ali'i than on the Queen K.  For some reason, the air feels heavier on Ali'i, and I suspect its because there is less room for the wind to move freely like out on the highway.

Seeing my family was incredible.  I stopped and gave hugs and kisses to every single person.  I didn't care about my time.  I picked up and hugged my girls.  I just wanted to appreciate the people who got me here.  Unsurprisingly, this rejuvenated me, and I decided that I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't at least keep running until I got to the highway.  The thought process was there are few people out there, its quiet, and I can just enjoy a guilt free long walk without being surrounded by so many people.  With any luck, I would find a walking buddy and meet someone new!  The miles to the turn up to the highway were uneventful.  They were neither fast nor slow, but I kept running.  The biggest hill of the course is on Palani Drive which takes you up to the highway.  Palani is long and steep.  I knew Mom, Dad, and Jeanna were going to be at the top of Palani so I walked up the steep hill thinking I would show them my last jogging hurrah before I started a 16 mile walk home.

As I arrived at the top of the hill, my family was where I anticipated and started running again.  In that
moment, I decided to bag the walking plan and make the best of it.  I'm persistent, I can't help it!  I was going to run or collapse.  In a cruel twist, I almost immediately started experiencing debilitating hamstring and quadriceps cramps.  They were so severe it seems that the decision was being made for me.  My body was saying it was time to walk.  Oddly, I was okay with this.  I have done so much work on my mindset, attitude, and mental health that I have learned how to accept when I have given my best even if that "best" falls short of my goals.  Prior versions of me would have been negative and self abusive, but I was at peace.  I worked my ass off for two years, I did the best I could, and the reward was being on an island with 2500 of the fittest people on earth for a long albeit painful and beautiful walk in Hawaii.  There are worse things to experience in this life.

I slowed and walked the next 2-3 miles when a friend from back home (shout out Jimmy Sosinski) ran up behind me.  We chatted for a moment and I expressed I was having a rough day.  He generously gave me a tube of salt supplement and encouraged me to try and run with him.  I hit the salt stick and was able to start running again.  Within a few minutes I had gotten back up to pace and was running decently.  With each step, I was reducing the amount of time I was going to be out on course :)  I found a running buddy from Australia and we ran and talked up to the energy lab.  It made the miles click by so much faster.  As I ran further, my whole mindset began to change and I thought, "Holy Shit, I think I'm coming good, I am going to negative split this thing."  I started to get motivated and excited and I ran my strongest miles through the Energy Lab.  For the uninitiated, the Energy Lab is a research facility on the coast that utilizes the extremely hot conditions in the lava fields.  It is typically, the hottest, most brutal, and desolate miles of the run course and it comes at a difficult time (miles 14-19).  Lucky for me, clouds had returned and there was a stiff breeze.  That cooling wind felt so beautiful and I harnessed that energy to click off my proudest miles through the energy lab.  I was grateful in the lab in a way I was not able to in 2018.  As I exited the Energy Lab there is about 7 miles to go, and I thought, "I can do anything for 7 miles!".

This is about the time the wheels fell off again.  The cramping resumed, except it was significantly worse than before.  My hamstrings were seizing with seemingly every step.  It took everything I had to keep moving forward.  My goals became more and more micro.  Run for 5 minutes, run for 3 minutes, run for 1 minute, run to that pole, run to that street sign.  I used every mental trick in my arsenal to keep moving forward.  Dad was with me the whole way on the Queen K trying to encourage me to break 10 hours.  I was on pace, but the walking in the last 10K crushed that dream.  Again, I was able to keep perspective and instead of hating myself, I was just grateful to be in such a special place.  As I approached town a rain storm hit.  You could see that it was pouring in town, but the rain did not start falling on me until Mile 24.  Normally, rain on the Queen K would be a welcome relief, but due to the cramps I was walking ,and my heart rate was so low I actually started to get a bit cold.  There was a tent of fans around this time that were blasting Rage Against the Machine, it was such an awesome mental respite to walk up and hear one of my favorite psych up songs, "Killing in the Name Of"....another moment I felt immense gratitude.  Despite how terrible I felt, I felt the power of the song reinvigorating me.

As I approached Palani, my brother-in-law, Ricky, had run up to the corner to help guide me in.  He was doing everything he could to keep me moving.  I kept trying to run, but my left hamstring would not cooperate.  At one point it seized, and when I reached back I could feel a softball of knotted tissue in the center back of my leg.  The pain was exquisite.  Even still, I was so appreciative that he was there and I actually began to get tearful as I thanked him.  There were a few times on the run course that I started experiencing tingling in my extremities.  This happened in Kona and Cozumel in 2018, but I seemed to have gotten a hold of it since.  I am not sure what it is about Hawaii that causes this.  I have done many other extremely hot races, but Hawaii is really the only place this has happened.  Perhaps that is the one course where I absolutely need electrolyte supplementation.  

Much like 2018, I limped down Palani to Kuakini and then to Hualalai before making the final turn onto Ali'i.  My whole family was on Ali'i, and I stopped for hugs and kisses for every person.  I thanked everyone for being there to support me.  My dude Bryan Schleppy was watching the race from the balcony of a restaurant and shouted down.  Always great to see him!  One of the truly special people I have met through this sport.

I got through the finish line and went straight to medical.  They took such good care of me and gave me an IV to address the tingling and cramping.  Praise be for the IV because it has helped my recovery substantially.  My body feels pretty good with the exception of bloody and battered toes and the healing wound on my heel.  Currently I am down to 6 toenails...eeek.  I am toying with the idea of running the Richmond Marathon in a few weeks, but I need to recover from this sinus infection before making any decisions.

Final Thoughts

I am so thankful for the opportunity to test myself with the support of the most special people in my life.  I am thankful for my current teammates on TopGunz, and I am thankful for my former teammates on EMJ.  The Every Man Jack boys hyped me up out on the course and it was so appreciated.  I was thankful to race with Mike Consolini, Colin Cook, Matt Schuster, and Rich Uliana.  I was thankful for seeing so many friendly faces on course.  It was great to see David Morris and Conrad Sanders.  I was thankful to see Matt Davis healed from a terrible bike accident and crushing the run.  I was thankful for Jimmy Sosinski's kind words and base salts.  I was thankful to share the bike course with Jeff Scarella.  There are so many others I could mention, but the camaraderie of suffering is what makes this sport so special.  One of the beautiful side effects of having done this for so long is that I knew about 50 people out on the course.  What a gift to be among similarly unstable friends!

Of all the things I am most grateful for is without a doubt my wife and children.  Through their support none of this is possible.  The Iron life is hard on a family, and my girls love, support, inspire, and motivate me.  I don't have enough beautiful words to express how I feel about them.  I am thankful for mom, dad, Jeanna, Shay, Lummy, Jacko, Ricky and Bobby and all of my nephews.  As I said way back up at the top, I have more love and support than any one person deserves.

Kona is a special place.  I'm not a very woo woo person, but there is something special in the air and water on the big island that just feels different.  I love everything about Kona race week except large portions of the course...I guess that is kind of the point.  It's not supposed to be easy.  I am not sure if I will ever have the chance to go back, but if I am so fortunate, I know that I have a faster day in me and a sub 10 hour performance.  Only time will tell whether I have the will and opportunity to do so.

Lastly, I want to mention a special friend, Chris Berney, he experienced an unspeakable tragedy this year and his message to me after the race was one of the most heartfelt communications I've ever received.  He and I have been leaning on each other through a tough year and I am so grateful to have him in my life.

As always, thank you for reading my thoughts, thank you for following my journey.  I am always happy to answer any questions and talk tri, mental health, nutrition, etc.  

Prepare Until it's Mundane (and hope for a lil Doodle Power )

 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!