Inaugural Ironman Jax 2026 Race Report: aka "Intermittently Shitting the Bed since 2011. Follow Me for More Tips"

"It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me"

It's been a minute since I've regaled the inter webs by spamming Facespace and Instatok with intricacies and travails of my desire to play stupid games and win stupid prizes, but after three sub-par performances in a row, I figured it was time to unload some mental baggage.  To borrow from my old friend Frank Costanza, "I've got a lot of problems with myself, and now you're gonna hear about it!"

The Setup:

My last great Ironman was November 2023 at Ironman Florida.  In 2024, I had a great season of 70.3s leading into Kona (which you can read about it in my last post).  2025 was mostly awesome.  I raced six 70.3s and was top 5 in all but one (including my first AG win).  In September, I went into Ironman Chattanooga with lifetime best fitness and ended tingling all over and lying in a pile of my own puke on the side of the road (Easy ladies, I'm married).  A big DNF reality check brought the stark reminder that no matter how much I prepare, the best laid plans often don't work in a sport with so many "unknown unknowns".

Last year, Ironman Jacksonville was announced as a new race. A new North American race within driving distance!!! Sign me up!!! Time to get some of that Chatty redemption and maybe nab a podium and Kona Slot in the process.

The early months of 2025 have been quite busy with work, life, kids activities, and training.  I was so busy that months flew by, and before I knew it I was staring down the barrel of race day.  In truth, this was a gift as I only had time to check boxes and not ruminate in my typical head case fashion.  I was able to string together 6 consecutive weeks averaging over 17 hours a week and stay injury free.  I was swimming better than years, bike power and corresponding HR were at levels I've never seen, and my run started to wake up about a month out (after a slow bounce back from the Houston Marathon).  My dress rehearsal 15 days out went flawlessly...4:05 on the bike at 255 watts and less than 130 HR....right into 10 hilly miles off the bike under 7:30 pace with HR locked below 145.  I was ready...or so I thought.

Race Week/Morning

In the days leading up to race, I did my best not to sabotage myself though the mind started playing tricks on me as per usual.  "You are getting fat", "You are getting out of shape", "You haven't trained enough", "Are you really going to do this again", "Father time is undefeated, and you are old".  As the hours draw near to an Ironman I have a transcendental experience where I slowly begin to realize the enormity of what I am going to put myself through.  It happens every time.  With each passing day I find myself questioning all of my life choices.  As I write this, I have taken this pattern as a given, but that ignores I have agency in this process.  *Note to Self- Be grateful in the lead up...not just race Day*

I did my damndest to block out the noise.  I did not restrict eating (or so I thought), and consumed more electrolytes in my fluids.  In the 72 hours prior to race day I was dropping PH 1000 tabs in water bottles.  Nothing crazy, but one or two a day.  My goal was to avoid the hyponatremia that snakebit me in Chattanooga.  It was lovely to spend some time with mom, dad, Jeanna, and Shay, and meet up with teammates those last few days.  

The day before the race, I did brunch of Blueberry Pancakes and Blueberry Cornbread and then wrapped up the day with half a pizza.  I was in bed by 8:30 hoping for a relatively calm night.  By pre-race standards, sleep was better than average.  I rarely sleep the night before a race.  I slept until about 10:30.  From 11-2, I woke up once an hour and from 2-4, I woke up every 30 minutes.  I had some night sweats which is typical the night before a race.  At 4:00 a.m., I was up and ready to prepare for the long day.  Pre-race breakfast was old reliable, 3 packs of instant oatmeal and applesauce (120 g carbs) while sipping on a bottle of PH1000 leading up to swim start.  I did forget my typical Celsius, Diet Coke combo which resulted in a bit of a caffeine headache, but otherwise did not have any major impact.  I sucked down a Maurten160 gel 30 minutes out from race start.

Race morning was otherwise calm.  Transition setup went smoothly and I was able to navigate the split transition pretty easily.  I enjoyed moments with Teammates/Friends Dwayne, Johnny, and Melissa.  We were even graced by the presence of playful dolphins swimming in the St. John's river no doubt curious about all the commotion.  I took it as a good omen.

Swim/T1

For once I was excited to swim.  I have been consistently hitting the water 3-4x/week and have found a nice groove in the water.  I attribute it to going back to wearing swedish goggles.  Like He-Man channeling the magical powers of Castle Greyskull, I slipped those babies on and "I have the power".

The swim was billed as a fast downriver swim with outgoing tide.  This turned out to be patently false for those of us in the early corrals.  After the race, I came to find out that 7:30-8:00 is actually called "slack" and the tide doesn't go out until after 8.  This made for an honest swim.  As my splits were ticking off slowly, I actually got excited.  No current is good for me! I would be putting extra time into the other athletes!  What I didn't realize is that folks that started the swim had a huge tidal benefit and the fastest swims were from people that sent off between 8:00-8:10.  I wouldn't have done anything differently, but it was interesting to know.  This creates a weird swim dynamic where folks in the 60-90 minute corrals are getting a much bigger boost.

I was proud of my swim and felt strong the whole way.  Honestly, it would end up being the only bright spot of the day.  I left 3 minutes after the first athletes, and felt I was blasting past the rest as I made my way to the front. I had clean lines and was dialed in.  If I left when the tide was stronger, I feel confident I would have been top 10 overall.  Oh well!  Still proud to have actually done enough swim work to capitalize on my oft underutilized and dormant skill set. 

Coming out of the water, the transition is quite long.  You run up a false flat, hang a left, and run down a sidewalk for about a half mile.  At this point, I'm feeling good.  Crowds are hype, people everywhere, beautiful morning, big energy, nice steady run, taking my time, trying not to spike the heart rate.  My plan for was execute as steadily as possible.  My training, fitness, and experience gave me a strong indication that workmanlike day would get me a KQ so my mantra was "don't be spectacular, be good".  I was trying to take the pressure off of myself.  I saw my buddy Jeff Fejfar in T1, had a couple cups of water, and actually remembered to take off my swim skin (unlike Chattanooga).  I was ready to showcase what I could do on the bike.  LFG

Bike/T2

"Ground Control to Major Tom, Your Circuit's Dead, There is Something Wrong"

I set out on the bike and immediately tried to jump on my fueling plan.  I onboarded 610 grams of carbs and 3000 mg of Electrolyte.  Plan was to hit 120g/hour and space out the electrolytes during the course of the ride.  Drink to thirst, and listen to my body when it wanted water.  I anticipated a bike split between 4:35-4:45.  I was going to race the first half closer to 130 bpm and the second half closer to 140 bpm.  Based on my training this should have put me somewhere between 240-255 watts which my training said should have been well within my wheelhouse.  I factored heat coming up with these calculations.  In my dress rehearsal I did 3x60 min at 280 watts (at 130 bpm) so I felt 240 in the heat was a good target.

Usually in early miles I'm having to hold myself back to stay under 250 watts.  Immediately 250 felt like a stretch and my heart rate was lagging closer to 130 despite high RPE.  It didn't take long to realize that 135 HR was equating to wattage in the low 200s.  By mile 30, I was struggling to hit 200 watts and could not get my heartrate out of the low 120s.  It was so early, my mind was reeling. I was fucked and getting fuckder (yes I'm making this a new word).  I could not make sense of it.  I was trying to problem solve on the fly.  Am I sick? Are my brakes rubbing? WTH is going on? I'm retiring, time to focus on my kids athletics...not a great line of thinking with 110 miles to go.

I wanted to quit at mile 30.  I got off my bike at the aid station, and was looking to hit the eject button.  It was cowardly, but I was waiting for one of the volunteers to ask if I needed medical rather than just asking for it.  After a few minutes, I talked myself into one more aid station.  Mile 60ish, same exact thing.  Got off the bike with intentions to quit.  A few more minutes contemplating whether I am tough enough to be this dumb.  Ultimately decided to get to T2 before pulling the plug...but I was certain a finish was not in the cards.

The last half of the ride I could not hold 190 watts and I was trying...hard.  It is the weakest I've ever been on the bike.  For frame of reference, my recovery rides are typically at 190 watts.  At mile 55 I could not contemplate pushing pedals for another 55 miles.  My heart at times was under 120 bpm and I wasn't sweating that much.  I don't think I was able to work hard enough to sweat my butt off.  I felt so empty despite sticking to my nutrition plan.  I have done more than 20 Ironmans and this is unequivocally the most I've ever suffered on the bike.  There was no joy, no gratitude.  I've never wanted to quit so badly.  I was wobbly, couldn't hold aero.  Everything was bad and getting worse.

At Mile 95, my teammate Sam Stopyra-Glover (5th place OA female) blew by me (also winning the women's race).  She was kind enough to check on me, and I told her I was super ultra mega effed and pulling the plug.  Sam did her best to rally me and implored me to finish.  She kindly asked me to stick it out and finish because this was her first ironman.  Expert level guilt tripping... A woman after my mother's own heart.  She told me she sucks at running (Note- she doesn't), and we talked about her running 9 minute miles off the bike.  I told her I would give my best, and try to pace her to those 9 minute miles.  Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for me, she is too badass, dropped me and I never caught up (although it was great to watch her succeed from behind).    The last 15 miles took 15 millenia, and I limped into to T2 feeling like I couldn't keep my bike upright.  Despite my promise to Sam, I was going to medical and quitting.  

I arrived to T2 35-40 minutes slower than planned.  I was totally demoralized.  I told my dad the day was over and walked into the medical tent.  The kind medical volunteers took my vitals and let me gather myself for 10 minutes.  Despite how I felt, vitals were normal.  Nothing was overtly wrong.  Medical told me if we went any further with medical interventions they had to DNF me.  I started thinking, and a combination of factors overwhelmed my desire to quit.  The magic elixir of Chatty's DNF, the support of Jeanna/Shay and my parents, and my teammates left me feeling I could not stomach watching everyone else finish, so despite my better judgment, I said fuck it and ran out of T2 knowing full well I was in for a rough ride.

RUN

I made my way out of transition, and took my time easing into a trot to the first aid station.  I was going to access my inner William Wallace and salvage what I could with the panache of a stubborn man being disemboweled for his cause. If that meant a 6 hour marathon so be it...."FREEDOMMMMMMM".  

At the first aid station, I loaded up my ice bandana and ice hat, chugged three cups of coke and set out with the false confidence of a man fueled only by high fructose corn syrup and caffeine.  I don't know if it was the coke  or the last gasps of my ego, but I was "somewhat" revived for 10 miles.  

For most of those miles I was serviceable.  I was running 815 pace but was stopping at the aid stations for ice and as much coke as I could get down.  I think I even snuck one mile under 8 minutes (HEY GURL HEY).  After mile 10 all bets were pretty much off.  The emperor really had no clothes.

On each of the loops I was able to see my family and each time I tried to express my gratitude.  I was able to walk/run to mile 15-16, and then it was mostly walking.  I didn't run a step between miles 20-24.  I was a shell of myself, but got to chat with some really nice people.  I talked for several miles with a gentleman who had almost been killed in a head on car accident and had lost more than 100 pounds leading into this Ironman. Now that's real inspiration!!!

Although the run was awful (and almost as long as the bike!), it was not nearly as bad to deal with mentally. I think because my goal shifted so drastically from sub 9 to surviving to the finish chute, all other pressures and expectations faded away.

Several of my favorite moments of the day happened on the run: 1) cheering on and being cheered on by Sam, Adrienne, and Melissa, 2) Stopping and sharing a moment with Jeanna on the pedestrian bridge, 3) hugging mom and dad and telling them how grateful we are to all do this together, 4) having Johnny come out a half mile and jog me into the finish nearly two hours after he had already finished, and 5) having Sam greet Adrienne and I in the finish chute (more than an hour after her finish)...This team is incredible.  These teammates are incredible.

Final Thoughts
I have no answers as to what happened.  This build was as
good if not better than my last in Chatty, and that was my best ever.  My dress rehearsal two weeks ago was incredible.  I did the work, I checked the boxes, I prepared to the best of my ability.  But that's the beautiful thing about Ironman.  Even when you do everything right, it can go horribly wrong.  It's a enigma wrapped in a conundrum.  I learn way more from the bad ones than the good ones and I will always believe that.  When you invest so much into something you want it to go well, and when it doesn't it can feel crushing....especially when your family, friends, and teammates sacrifice so much to help you achieve your goals. But there is so much beauty in that too.  This sport is a community, and success is virtually impossible without that community.  It is not lost on me that I am gifted with a body and mind capable of willing myself to extraordinary physical efforts, even when I think those efforts result in poor outcomes.  As I am further removed from the race, I try to focus on this, and not my profound disappointment with outcome.  Outcomes are great, but process is where the real marrow of growth is found.

I can't blame the heat and humidity.  My race went south far earlier than would have been the case if that was the culprit.  It was a factor, but not so oppressive that I couldn't have succeeded on a different day.   I simply felt more smoked than I have ever been before.   On a positive note, my bike setup must be fast because I still rode 5:07 at 40-50 watts lower than I was anticipating.  Also, our new Mauna are straight up fire.  It was comfortable and fast all day.  They are also really photogenic!

In looking at my Oura ring data, my HRV completely tanked in the three days leading up to the race.  I normally don't follow this closely, but in the past it has been an indicator before I get sick.  I find myself a bit sick today, but that may have been coming home to a sick daughter and not actually being sick in Florida.  It's hard to tell because of timing. My HRV on race day was the lowest of the year.  During my 18 hour weeks, it would be in the upper 40s to low 50s.  Race day was 23!  Something was clearly wrong, and my body justifiably put on the brakes.  

I went through so many emotions on Saturday.  On the bike, I gave up multiple times and was questioning my "why".  I was miserable, and that misery compounded my physical limitations.  Was my attitude bad because of the body? or, did my body create the bad attitude?  I'm not sure I'll ever know.

I am looking at possible causes.  One obvious blind spot is fueling during my big blocks, and carbo loading during race week.  This is something I struggle with due to my body dysmorphia and fear of getting fat during taper.  I know this is objectively crazy, and sounds crazy to those that know me, but I want to pull back the curtain on the dark corners of my mind during taper.  We are also going to work in high volume rest weeks during my blocks so my body is not quite as shocked during taper.  My consistency can be both a gift and a curse.  When you constantly fly close to the sun, occasionally you are gonna get a little melty. Hopefully between those two things, I will be back better than ever.

As for race schedule, I still plan on doing Happy Valley in a few weeks and then Maine at the end of the summer.  I am not going to do Ironman Ottawa.  I am kicking around the idea of a fall Ironman.  Maybe Wisconsin or Chattanooga.  Like a moth to a flame, Chattanooga always seems to beckon me back.  There will be no Kona this year, but the plus is I will get to run Kate's second marathon with her in her new hometown of Chicago which is the same day!

As always, thanks for taking the time to read.  If you have any thoughts, ideas, or suggestions as to how my day unfolded, I am always happy to hear.  I love to share what I learn and learn from others. Please feel free to share with anyone. I'll see you on a race course soon!

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.