After spending the last couple of weeks working out and walking around the house (to my wife's dismay) in my Vibram Five Finger KSOs, I decided it was time to take them out for a run. I know too many runners that have converted paritally or wholly to these new kicks for me to ignore the benefits that they might bring. So on the bandwagon I jump!
I like my KSOs because they are the least weird-looking of the Vibram FF lineup; they offer full foot coverage and have a non-descript black mesh upper. From a distance it looks like I'm running in low cut black socks. The single velcro strap cleverly wraps around the back of the heel to ensure a snug fit. They are perfect for functional strength training (read: TRX) and from what many claim, are an end-all to running pain. That, however, has yet to be seen.
Vibram suggests running 10% of your normal mileage the first time out. This was my lunchtime 3 mile run, so I was slated for a .3 mile initiation. I stretched my calves while my Garmin searched for a satellite, and soon as link was established, I started the stopwatch and headed down the paved path.
The first thing I noticed was that even though I was concentrating on mid foot striking, the learning curve was shallow, and my body took over, placing my feet beneath me and allowing the natural shock absorbing function of my legs to kick in.
Once my stride was adjusted, I became very aware of the road surface. As cliche as it sounds, I felt very connected to the asphalt with every step I took. I'll put it this way: if my motion control running shoes were 2.5 inch knobby mountain bike tires, these KSOs were 700x23cm road racing slicks. I felt as if I could accelerate or cut on demand, but like tires, these KSOs are only part of the equation, and my chassis is not tuned for optimal performance. Yet. I eeked out a mere .5 mile out and .5 mile back and felt like I could go more. But good judgement prevailed and I called it a day. I've had too many friends that knocked out 5+ miles on their first outing and ended up paying dearly in the weeks to follow.
Overall, I enjoyed the experience and look forward to building up miles and my legs along the way. I am excited to find out for myself if the barefoot running movement is all it's cracked up to be. Then again, I'm not really running barefoot; I have $85 gloves on my feet.
Ahhh, I finally got my man-car back! Now that I am a family man, I decided I needed a bigger vehicle in which to hall all our baby gear in addition to all the swim-bike-run-ski-etc junk that we already cart around. What better vehicle to choose than the venerable Toyota 4Runner! I had one in the past, and I remember all the good times that truck brought me. After scouring the internet for a couple of months, I finally found one. Below is a brief account of how it all went down:
After a couple of months of looking for a 4Runner, I found a nice certified 2008 SR5 at Maita that was listed on Auto Trader. There was no picture up yet, but after inquiring on line, I received a quick response from Mehdi, the internet manager. He told me the vehicle was being prepared, and photos would be up soon. Later that afternoon, as promised, the pictures were up, and I figured that I better jump on it now that the entire internet community can see how sweet this ride is.
We agreed on the final selling price, then Mehdi helped me apply for a loan, appraise my trade in, and find me financing all via email and phone. This saved A LOT of time. The next morning, I headed up from the Bay Area with my wife and newborn. We arrived at the dealership just before noon, and I called to let Mehdi know we were there. As soon as I stepped out of my car, the feeding frenzy began as no less than 3 salesmen approached me. I said, I'm here to see Mehdi, and they all dispersed.
Mehdi came out and showed me the vehicle, which was super clean except for some dings in the interior ceiling, and a musty-but-just-detailed smell. Everything checked out so I requested a test drive. He let me install the infant car seat, then let us take off down the freeway on our own as he appraised my old car. Very cool, as it made for a low pressure test drive that really let me concentrate on the vehicle.
We got back to the lot and started the final process. Mehdi had good news: my old car appraised at $700 more than the Auto Trader value. More good news, they were able to stretch my loan a little to get my monthly payments down. Even more good news, they got me another 1% less on my interest rate. He showed me the printout of the total price of the car, down payment, etc. When I was comfortable with the numbers, he sent us in to see the sales manager Mario, who had all of our papwork typed up and ready for my signatures.
Mario was a nice guy who was sympathetic to the fact that we had an infant in the room, and didn't want to keep us too long. He offered to sell us 3 additional items at this point: Extended warranty, Car alarm, and Gap coverage.
I passed on the extended warranty because I got the Certified warranty, and because it's a Toyota. I don't like the fact that they install the KARR alarm on all vehicles and just disable it (as opposed to removing it) if you opt not to purchase it. Gap is always a good idea. Mario got me the alarm and gap for a "discounted" price, so I went for those two. We drove off satisfied with the 4Runner, the process, and the people we dealt with.
The moral of the story is to know exactly what you are looking for and take advantage of Internet car shopping! Deal with fleet or internet managers only, and get all the paperwork, loan info, and other details out of the way before you even set foot on the lot. The whole process only took about 2.5 hours.
Ahhh I was so glad to be off of that saddle and sitting on a folding chair if only for a moment. I unbuckled my bike shoes and slipped into my running shoes, fearing the onset of another cramp. The cramp never came, and I threw on my race belt and visor, and shuffled out of the tent and into the afternoon sunlight.
As I exited the Run Out area, I felt relatively strong and was running a 9 minute mile past all the spectators and best of all, my family and support crew. I trotted into town knowing that my pace would slow down, so I was ready to accept a 10 minute mile or so. Minutes later, I looked down at my Garmin wrist watch which indicated I was cruising at a 10:30 pace. What? Ok that's cool, I thought, I just have to keep it under 11. As I exited town and headed through frat house row, I looked again, and my Garmin read 11:30/mile. Oh man! Ok that's cool, I thought once again, I just have to keep it under 12. I played this game until my pace settled into a blistering 12 - 12:15 mile.
My strategy was simple: run to every water stop, then walk while hydrating and eating. I'm proud to say that I stuck to that plan with the exception walking part of same hill where I cramped on my bike. I crested that hill and headed to the turnaround point, which had a beautiful view of the lake. The sun was still up, and the road was well populated with runners and walkers moving at various speeds. As I headed back to town, I realized that the bottles in my fuel belt had rarely been touched and that I was lugging at least a pound of stuff around my waist. I was taking in PowerBar drink and cola at the water stops, with the occasional pretzel thrown in for substance.
At the halfway point, I tore off my fuel belt and tucked it into my special needs bag with the intention of retrieving it later. Needless to say, that's the last I saw of it. I ran down the main strip one more time and hit the turnaround there. I stopped to greet Alex and my mom, get some hugs and some energy to finish the second half of the marathon. Somewhere along the run back out, I started thinking about my father. I actually had a conversation with him, which resulted in me getting choked up, literally, enough so that I couldn't breathe. I told him to quit fooling around, and he told me to quit crying and get this thing done. I sucked it up, and continued on.
The sun was starting to drop, and at around mile 18, I made a friend as we came out of the water stop together. He was a Bostonian, a little older than me, and we shuffled along at the same pace. His name was Angelos, and we pushed each other mile after mile, never letting the other give up. The temptation to walk was strong, but he kept me honest. At one point, with about 7 miles left to go, I was so exhausted that I told him to go on ahead of me. The sun had fallen, and I was ready to join the walking dead on their way back to the city lights. He wouldn't have it. He said, "I already blew my time. We're going to finish this together. Come on let's go!". I ran beside him as we continued our crusade. I told him that he was a machine and that I was impressed by his tenacity. His response was "It hurts like hell, but I just run through the pain." And I knew that's exactly what I needed to do.
Less than three miles from the finish, we ran past fraternity row for one last time, glow sticks in hand. The roads twisted through the dark town as I struggled to stay on his tail. Two turns to go, and I hear my name being called by Sedonia and her parents! I get some hugs, and they charge Angelos with the responsibility of getting me across the finish line safely. We can hear the music, the crowds, and Mike Reilly, the "voice of Ironman". We make the final left turn onto Sherman avenue, and I was blown away by the spectacle that awaited us at the finish line. I told Angelos to go through first, but he insisted that I go ahead of him because I earned it (as if he didn't)! People were rooting for us every step of the way, screaming, shouting, and high-fiving!
The runner in front of me was zig-zagging through the gallery, getting high fives on each side. I zigged to the left and lo and behold, there was mom, Alex, and Phil in the grandstands, banging on the boards, reaching out to me! A few more steps, and I would be in place to do my thing. I've been through enough races and watched enough Ironman live feeds to know where the cameras would be, so I timed my victory actions carefully. After all, I had all day to think about it.
As soon as the light hit me, I kissed my fists and sent them pointing to the sky for my dad. Then I cradled my arms and rocked and invisible baby for Sophia, who had yet to be born. Then as I crossed the line, I performed a pose that is dear to me and the 2011 Ironteam; a really bad bodybuilding pose consisting of a bicep flex with the opposite arm pointing skyward. It has become my signature pose somehow. After that, I was all smiles as a volunteer grabbed me, wrapped me in a space blanket, placed a bottle of water in my hand, and threw a medal around my neck. I turned around to congratulate Angelos and thank him for pulling me through. He accepted no credit, and went on his way. Moments later, the same volunteer took everything but my medal and placed me in front of the Ironman finisher backdrop for my photo. Then she gave me everything back and pointed walked me to the finishers area, pointing to the massage tent and boxes of pizza, and congratulating me once more.
I was in shock as I stumbled towards the massage tent, but I could not remove the smile from my face. I went to the next available table and struggled to get onto it. The masseuse asked where I was sore. You can imagine what my response was. So he proceeded to work on every limb and told me to hydrate and take it easy for a few days. I left the tent, and bypassed all the boxes of pizza. I just was not hungry. I walked outside the finishers area to meet up with the family and take our post race group picture. We then headed back to the hotel where I took an ice bath, then crashed out.
I can't thank my ironwifey with child for her support during yet another iron training season. Big thanks to my mother and nephew enough for being out there to support me along with the spirit of my dad. I also could not have done it without IronPhil, who helped me with all my gear and even drew an ice bath for me! All of my Ironteammates' support also played a key part in my success here. I would definitely recommend this M-Dot race to anyone. But which M-Dot will be my next?
As I exited the bike transition area, I was still a bit wobbly from the swim. Iron Phil was shouting to me from the sideline as he snapped photos, and I happily waved before mounting my trusty steed. It felt good to be spinning away in a low gear, delighting in the fact that I was out of that freezing lake. I reached into my frame mounted bento bag for a gel snack, as I have done dozens of times before, but my equilibrium was still a bit off, and the task was shakier than usual. I managed to pop a few gel blasts in my mouth, and washed it down with my Powerbar Perform/Carbo Pro cocktail.
The downtown streets were lined with cheering spectators, and that really got me fired up to crank! But alas, I knew I had to pace myself, so I resisted the temptation to blow through. As I got further from town, the cheers were fewer, but hearty nonetheless. People in front of their houses, at bus stops, outside convenience stores, etc. were rooting on every bike that rolled past them. There was even a live band in front of one of the high schools! I kept thinking "what a great bike course, it's so chill and laid back!" Then I realized I spoke too soon.
The course quickly went from suburban to rural, and lo and behold, the climbing began. Granted, I have been through a few tough centuries, and riding regularly in the SF East Bay yields some decent elevation, so 4000 total feet of climbing didn't seem too intimidating on paper. Well, I quickly realized I was not riding on paper. The sun was out and the weather warmed up fairly rapidly. I was still wearing my black arm warmers but I pulled over to take off my vest. The first substantial climb was English Point, which was a low gear grunter that didn't really last that long. After that was a nice downhill followed immediately by another short climb. It went on like this for a long time, never really allowing me to get into a groove. But the roads were well paved, and the scenery was beautiful. I felt very much alive as I rode with, passed, and got passed by all of my fellow competitors.
I cleared the first round of hills and headed back into town from Hayden Lake. I knew I had to do it all over again, but I didn't dwell on the fact, I just tried to remember certain landmarks. I pulled back into town and the cheering crowds re-energized me. From there the bike course runs parallel to the marathon course, but goes out a little further along Lake CDA. I was only at mile 56 or so, and didn't realize how warm and dehydrated I was. I turned a corner and started up a short hill when it hit me - hamstring cramp!
My right leg almost seized but I caught it in time to straighten it out, shout "Slowing!" and pulled to the right. I successfully dismounted though in my head I was convinced that I would not be able to clip out gracefully. I stood next to my bike, right leg stretched out, bent at the waist. I couldn't believe it, I NEVER cramp on the bike. I remember what Coach Simon told me last year when I cramped - drink more than you think you have to. I popped a theralyte tablet, and sucked water out of my Speedfil system. Then I grabbed my bottle of Ironman/CarboPro and gulped it down. At this point, doubt crept into my mind. Would I finish the bike? If I did, would the cramp haunt me during the run? Could I finish this thing? Would I have travelled all this way to be an Ironman, or just a really fit tourist? Aaaargh.
As I was doing my best to handle the situation, I noticed two ladies that were on the hill cheering people on. They noticed me too, and walked in my direction. They approached and asked what was wrong. I explained my situation and they promptly went to work massaging my thigh. They asked what else they can do for me, and I let them know that they were already doing enough. No this was not a page out of Penthouse Forums, but it was certainly nothing I've ever experienced before. I'm telling you that support at Ironman races is amazing.
When they were done, I just let out a big sigh and said "oh man, this is tough". Then one of the ladies spotted the sticker on my bike. It was a photo of my father that read "This one's for you, Pa". She pointed it at it and told me flat out "Well there's your reason right there. You can do this." They wished me well and went on their merry way. She was right, and I knew it. This one was for Pa. I was not about to let him down. Another guy pulled up and asked me how I was doing. We chatted for a while and he gave me lots of words of encouragement. After 20 minutes or so, my cramp subsided and I began my walk up the hill. I was feeling good, so I mounted my bike and spun lightly till I got to the peak. I crested the hill then popped into high gear until I hit the special needs section at mile 60.
The volunteers had my special needs bag ready for me as I rounded the turnaround point. I refilled my bottle, ate my Pringles, and reapplied my chamois butter. I headed back to town then back out to the hills. I rode conservatively and hydrated judiciously, taking the water and Powerbar drinks at each water stop. My diligence in hydration inevitably led to several pit stops, as I am not very keen about peeing myself on the bike. Yet.
The hills at CDA were not one-punch knockouts like some of the monster climbs that you experience in the Bay Area. Rather, they are like quick, sharp jabs and body blows that wear you down over time. The day grew long, the sun shifted, and riders were already talking about cutoff times. I was fairly confident that I would make all the bike cutoffs, but I didn't want to leave anything to chance. I pressed on, encouraging and be encouraged by many riders that were heading back to town for the dismount. I was chatting with a fellow TNTer from another state as we made the final turnaround and headed back to transition.
I dismounted and handed my bike to an enthusiastic volunteer. Everyone in the area congratulated me and cheered me on. Another volunteer handed me my bag, and I headed into the changing tent for the final chapter of the day: the marathon.
I was having issues sleeping for the past few days, and even though I hit the sack early Saturday night, I never got the passed out, drooling, snoring rest that I needed. I woke up Sunday morning feeling a bit groggy, but ready to go nonetheless. I ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and put on my race gear. I used the same Ironteam tri top that I wore last year at Vineman, and a new pair of CEP compression tri shorts. I grabbed my special needs bags, and headed out the door. It was almost 5AM, and the sun was already up to greet us. Mom and Alex picked up Phil and I and headed down to City Park.
We found street parking close to the transition area. The good thing about CDA is that you can hang out downtown and spectate while enjoying all the restaurants and bars that are open during the race. And that's exactly what my crew did. We walked towards the beach and approached the body marking volunteers. I got marked up and proceeded into the secured transition area to check on the bags I left the night before. The area was bustling with nervous excitement as thousands of athletes meandered through. My emotions ran the gamut from excited to worried to nervous to confident and back again. But underneath it all, I knew I had a mission to accomplish, and focused on the task at hand. I remained calm, I breathed deeply when needed, and I reminded myself that no matter what, I will finish this.
After taking some photos with family and friends, I entered my zone and faded back into the transition area. After a trip to the porta potty to lighten the load, I slipped into my wetsuit and handed my morning clothes bag to a volunteer. By this time the sun was out and felt good on my face. By this time the pros were already in the water, and I joined the mass of neoprene covered humanity as we made our way to the beach.
It took a while to actually reach the starting point as we were being funneled through an inflatable arch and over a timing chip matt. I got to the sand and moved to a spot where I was lined up with all the buoys heading out to the lake. I stayed towards the back and chatted with a couple of anxious athletes as the voice of Ironman blared over the PA system. I adjusted the chin strap on my neoprene squid lid, positioned my goggles, and waited for the start.
The famous Ironman cannon went off, and thousands of pink and green caps rolled into the water. I watched the crowd thrash about in front of me as I slowly made my way to the water. After a few steps in, I dove in and started stroking. The water was the smoothest that it has been all week, and didn't seem as cold as it did during practice. I found myself in a good place despite being kicked in the chest, elbow on my back, and smacked in my head. I looked around and was in a strange kind of nirvana as we all propelled ourselves forward in the water. Some people were motoring while others were struggling. Swimmers came from out of nowhere and ran me over as they swam perpendicular to me, fighting to get to my left side. I turned to see that they were scrambling for the buoy so that they had something to hang on to and rest on. Support kayaks were paddling in for others to grab. Not me, I told myself. I won't be brought in on the shrimp boat. I have a mission to accomplish.
I had an issue with sighting last year, so this year I worked on it and stayed as tight to the buoys as I could. I was literally banging my elbow on them as I passed. The buoys heading out away from the shore never seemed to end. I kept looking for the big red left turn buoy, but it was a long time coming. We were pretty much spread out at this point, so I had ample space to work with. Or so I thought. Things can change in an instant out there, and all of a sudden, I was getting kicked in the chest by a breast-stroker. Oh well, I circumnavigated and motored on. I made the left turn at the buoy and was rocking and rolling as I swam parallel to the waves. I got a little dizzy, and welcomed the next left turn that brought us back to the shore.
The buoys that we followed back to shore seemed to come a little faster. I could hear the blare of the megaphone and the roar of the crowd. I could see the big inflatable arch from a distance, and worked a little harder to get there. I finally hit the dirt, and popped up to run through the arch. Or wobble through it, really. I checked the clock and high fived a few volunteers before I flopped back into the water for the second loop. The buoys came even slower this time around. The water was a bit choppier, and I got a little dizzier. But no matter what, I wasn't going to stop, even with my bum shoulder acting up.
At some point before the turnaround buoy, I was cruising along and rolled to my right side to breathe. Out of nowhere, a big ol' mitt came down on my right goggle. BAM! I was in shock, thinking that I lost my goggle, or water was going into my eyes, but I was fine. I found the guy that smacked me, but he was gone before I could return the favor. Then I notice I was at the last left turn buoy before the home stretch. I put a little more effort into my stroke in order to get out of the water quicker but the temperature of the water and the rolling waves did their best to counter all the energy I was expending.
I neared the shore and heard the crowd and loudspeakers once more. This time I would get out and stay out! I pulled hard until once again I was scooping dirt, then I popped up in victory and wobbled forward. A volunteer caught me and helped get the zipper on my wetsuit going. I ran through the arches and glanced at the clock - 1 hour 48 minutes - ugh, but whatever, I was out of the water! I ran along the beach trying to remove my wetsuit sleeves. I got the right one off, but the left got snagged on my watch. As I tried to pull it off, I turned to the left to wave at my friend Liz who was taking pictures. Then I ran forward and spun to the right to face mom, who called my name for a picture. I kept spinning, and fell on my ass, landing up against the spectator barrier. People were reaching over trying to help me up as I laughed deliriously at myself. I made it to the wetsuit strippers who tore my suit off and handed it to me as a volunteer shoved my swim to bike bag in my arms.
WIth my hands full, I ran into the changing tent and sat on a plastic folding chair. A volunteer grabbed everything I was holding and asked how I was doing. I was cold and dizzy, and my coordination was shot. As I toweled the sand off my feet, he had my socks ready to go and I shoved my feet into them. As I fasted the straps on my bike shoes, he placed my helmet on my head and put my vest on for me. He attached my race belt to my waist, and held my bike gloves open as I shoved my hands in them, even though I had to remove one to apply my chamois butter. He wished me well and sent me outside for sunscreen.
I exited the tent to find a line of volunteers, mostly if not all women, holding up hands full of sunscreen. I ran up to them and two ladies instantly began to smear sunscreen on all my exposed parts, and some not so exposed parts. After they got my face, I was on my way to get my bike. A quick stop for water and electrolytes, and into the bike rack area I went. My bike was easy to find, it was at the end of a rack, right next to a BBQ pit. I rolled it out the bike out arch, and mounted for quick little 112 mile tour.
My CDA buddies and I agreed to go for a practice swim at 8AM, so Phil and I got up and headed down to the beach. We met up with the usual suspects and I stared out into the water. It was windy and the lake was choppy, and from the looks of the others getting out of the water, pretty chilly to boot. Louis donned his panda suit for inspiration.
I pulled on my wetsuit and decided to wear my neoprene "squid lid" to cover my ears and keep my head insulated under my swim cap. This always adds a layer of security to my cold open water experiences. I crept down the concrete stairs and launched myself into the frigid waters. It was pretty cold, but not the coldest that I had ever swam in. I took a few strokes, then adjusted my goggles. I swam out to the end of the practice lane, avoiding oncoming swimmers, then turned around and headed back. I just wanted to get an idea of the water temperature, and amount of choppiness that I would have to deal with on race day. I got out of the water, pulled off my wetsuit, then dressed and headed back to the hotel.
We got back to the room before 10AM. I showered then hit the sack for a nap. But I couldn't fall asleep. The insomnia that haunted me the night before carried into the next day. I just couldn't relax. I don't know if it was pre-race jitters, or leftover caffeine, or what. Either way, I just lay there and pretended to sleep, but I wasn't fooling anyone, not even myself.
After that whole episode, we got up and met with my mom and nephew for lunch. I had a modest grilled chicken wrap while everyone else indulged in richer choices at the Mexican grill. Following lunch, Phil and I loaded up the jeep and headed down to the transition area to drop off my bike and gear.
I've never seen anything like the rows and rows of gear bags lined up in the transition area. This made the bike rack area cleaner since the only equipment allowed there is your bike - I lucked out and got an end spot with a BBQ pit next to it! There were changing tents at the end of the rows of bags- one for men, and one for women. There were so many bags and they all had to be placed in the right are and in the right position. Volunteers were on hand to help with this.
After dropping off all my gear, I ran into a bunch of friends from the Bay Area. Bill S, Kevin M, Ray L, and others were here to race and become an Ironman (again, for some). We met up with Mom and Alex once more and headed to dinner at Angelo's, a little Italian joint just outside of downtown. It just dawned on my now, as I am writing this, that the name of the restaurant will bear some significance later on in this story. It tooks us almost an hour to get our food, and I was starving, not a good feeling to have the night before an Ironman. I finally got my tried-and-true spaghetti and meatballs. Mom tried to feed me polenta and calamari but I had to decline. I couldn't risk the squid taking revenge on me halfway through the bike!
After dinner, we headed back to the room so that I could do my final prep, relax, meditate a little, and finally hit the sack. Again, I couldn't fall asleep, and I felt myself laboring to doze off. It never happened. Dawn had arrived.
