The Big Five-O (Marathons that is)

The Big Five-O (Marathons that is)

Many of the RAW tribe are probably tired of hearing that my first marathon (or official road race for that matter) was the 2004 Cowtown.  During the ten years that followed Cowtown 2004 I zigzagged across the U.S. running in spectacular locations doing routine and strange events.  In the early days I never imagined I would be running my 50^th marathon at the 2014 Cowtown.  There are a ton of fond memories and some I would just as soon forget.  Plenty of lessons learned and friendships made.  There are lots of stories to tell and I’ll try stay with the ones that impacted me the most.  You can find my running stories at my blog site:  http://troyscrazysideofrunning.blogspot.com/

When I was six I ran a 6-ish minute mile on a hilly out and back course.  My older three brothers were arguing over bragging rights.  They were all the fastest milers in the universe.  I didn’t even know what a mile was and I definitely wanted in on the action.   Of course I wasn’t invited to the mile challenge and in younger sibling fashion, I took off after the 3 big brothers.  Guess who didn’t finish last?

I never was much of a team sports kind of guy.  As an eleven year old malcontent I started playing soccer.  This sport I loved.  From age 11 to 48 I played soccer.  When I moved from LA to TX in 2001 I took a break from soccer.  When I resumed I started running to get back in shape.  What a horrific start (see the blog).  I kept at it knowing I needed to be ready for the upcoming season.  A half mile turned into 2, 2 into 5, 5 into 10, and then I was at 14.  It occurred to me that if someone can run 14 miles they can certainly run 26.2.  And so I ran the 2004 Cowtown.  Barney – this is what it means when my answer to, “What made you start running?” is, “It was accidental.”

I’ve never been much of a joiner, especially in 2004.  I did several solo runs by the club on Saturdays and Sundays but never ventured into the RAW club house.  Probably a good thing because in those days good beer consisted of Natural Light and Michelob Ultra.  I remember Fireman Ken and Henry sitting out front as I would run by.  It’s funny what you remember. 

My daughter asked me within minutes of finishing the 2004 Cowtown if I would run another marathon.  I replied with two words: “F… N.”  2004 Cowtown was a great and miserable experience all rolled up together.  I’ve come to realize that many running events are great and miserable.  Maybe it’s the extremes that are the real allure to running.  The 2004 Cowtown had no electrolytes on the course.  As I ran through one of the aid stations there were volunteers frantically mixing Gatorade.  Runners were dipping cups into the jugs as the volunteers were trying to stir.  A few years later I found out it was the RAW aid station and I believe the last time RAW has supported a Cowtown event. 

On the bus ride to the start for the 2006 Austin marathon I met a RAW member.  Mark convinced me to try the club out instead of just running by the club.  Austin was freezing cold.  Rumor was no one wanted to go outside to the start because of the suicide deer prowling the area.  Sure enough, the suicide deer took out several runners near the start.  Several overpasses were iced over.  At mile 10 I hit a slippery patch and fell on my hip and knee.  By the end of the race I had a 1 inch wide blood trail from the knee to my shoe and a nice collection of blood on my sock and shoe laces.  This is called “bad-ass” running.  I had several cheers of “Looking-Good” immediately followed by “Oh no – he’s hurt!”  For some perverted reason the “He’s Hurt” comments motivated me to keep running strong.  By mile 22 I hurt badly.  The hip was pounding, the quads were burning, and my stomach was upset.  On a long out and back just before the finish a race official looked me straight in the eye and said, “Pick your head up.”  I believe there is power in telling it like it is (see the blog on spectators).  I was down for the count and yet revived thanks to the honesty of a stranger.  I went on to finish the great and miserable experience in just under 3 hours (first time under 3:00).

Not long after Austin I joined RAW.  It’s been a great experience.  And while I might tell it like it is a little too often, I only do it out of love and respect for all you joggersJ.   My first event with RAW was Grasslands.  It’s the first time I meet K2 and all her frizzy hair.  To think she would later become Reverend K2 and marry off the Sweeties on a warm spring day.  I also remember Susan Barnett applying sunscreen to my neck and shoulders.  She said I didn’t need any on my neck because my hair was so long and lovely (well that’s how I remember it…). 

I know it’s a stretch but I like to think I’m responsible for introducing RAW to beer.  Weekend after weekend the RAW faithful did their very best to get me to drink water after a run (by water I mean the aforementioned Michelob Ultra, Bud Light, Natural Light, etc…).  There was even a throw down after the 2006 July 4^th cookout involving a taste test between the best “light beers”,  just ask K2 and BradJ  After a couple months of turning down RAW’s version of beer (aka water) I signed up for water duty.  In typical Wussie Judge style, this also included a chest full of craft and premium beers.  The rest of the story is - well history.

Lean Horse 2011 was my first 100 miler.  This trip is incredibly important to me personally.  I was at the end of my first marriage searching for meaning in life.  I can’t do the story justice in a single paragraph – you’ll just have to read the blog.   The event was dreadfully miserable for several hours.  Let it be known that if the Texas Gang had not been in SD that day I would have dropped well before mile 50 and never experienced a fantastically great day.   The challenge within was by far more difficult to accept and overcome than the physical challenge of the run.  I’m a better person for having survived the experience.  Lean Horse was a turning point in my life. 

IronMan AZ (IMAZ) is big on the list of marathons.  I started multisport because of a life change.  If I found myself saying “Hell No!” to something I had to do it.  IMAZ is the result of one to many Hell-No’sJ  (So is eating raw fish and taking dance lessons).  Prior to IMAZ 2011 I had been stalking (well, more like being very aware) of Sweetie.  Our first date was the night before I left to volunteer at IMAZ 2011.  The swim start at IMAZ 2011 is thrilling and terrifying and all I needed to see to know IMAZ 2012 would be mine.  When I registered I didn’t have a bike, apparel, or wetsuit.  I had baggy swim trunks, leaky goggles, and feared the donning of the all too revealing multisport attire.  I’d rather have manly parts hang out from under my running shorts.  In March I started biking and swimming in earnest.  Over the course of the next 7 months I managed to work up to 3 mile swims and 100 mile bike rides.  IMAZ 2012 training is unreal.  For a 100 mile run event I might log 10-11 training hours in a peak week.  For IMAZ 2012 I logged an endless string of 16-18 hour training weeks.  Lucky for me Sweetie was there the entire way to support and encourage.  IMAZ 2012 goes smoothly and Sweetie says “yes” (It’s a great blog story).      

The 2014 Cowtown is reverential.  I appreciate all the good jobs and congrats from everyone on reaching the milestone.  The temperature really crept-up on me and several other runners.  By mile 20 I was pretty much done.  Ironically enough I found myself struggling to get through Trinity Park – just like 2004.  Not liking to be “chicked,” I did get irritated by the 4^th place female and her two pacers/mules.  For miles they discussed her desire to beat me to the finish.  In the end she did beat me to the finish line.  However, Karma is a Bitch.  My chip time was exactly 1 second faster!  I might dish it out before and after a race; but, I’ve learned to respect other runners during a race.  I have to say that the best parts of the day are Sweetie kisses before and after the race and the post-race gathering for beer and burgers at Rodeo Goat.    

I am frequently asked, “Which marathon do you recommend?”  That question is difficult to answer.  For road surfaces these are my top five:  Eugene, OR; NYC, NY; Steamtown, PA, Boston, MA; St. George, UT.  For trails my top 5:  Palo Duro, TX; Jemez, NM; Sylamore, AR, Chattanooga 3-Day, TN; and Catoctin, MD. 

10 Years and 50 Marathons/Ultras

Feb04 Cowtown (M)3:57	Mar04 Big D (M)  3:56	Dec04 White Rock (M) 3:14	Apr05 Boston (M) 3:15
Feb06 Austin (M) 2:57	Mar06 Grasslands (50M)7:57	Dec06 Tuscon(M) 3:15	Apr07 Triple Crown (M) 3:58
Apr07 Long Branch (M)3:26	May07 Capon Valley (50K) 5:01	Dec07 Baton Rouge (M) 3:13	Jan08 Callaway (M) 3:18
Feb08 Sylamore (50k) 5:12	Apr08 OK City (M) 3:02	Nov08 San Antonio (M) 2:59	Jan09 MS Blues (M) 3:08
Mar10 Gasparilla (M) 3:10	Apr09 Eisenhower (M) 3:13	May09 Brookings 3:29	Oct09 St. George (M) 2:48
Nov09 NY (M) 3:07	Dec09 Tashka (50k) 4:42	Oct10 Steamtown (M) 2:57	May11 Eugene (M) 2:57
May11 Jemez (50k) 8:27	Jun11 Bernhiem (M) 4:51	Jul11 Dawg Gone (50M) 9:52	Jul11 El Schorcho (50k) 4:41
Jul11 Catoctin (50K) 7:15	Aug11 Dahlgren (50k) 4:25	Aug11 Lean Horse 100 21:39	Oct11 NH (M) 3:16
Oct11 ME (M) 3:32	Oct11 Palo Duro (50k) 4:38	May12 Ft Collins (M) 3:19	May12 Wobegon (M) 5:35
Nov12 IMAZ 4:09	Dec12 Isle Du Bios (54k) 6:02	Feb13 PsychoWyco (50k) 5:55	Feb13 CrossTimber (M) 4:20
Mar13 Grasslands (M) 4:02	Apr13 HellsHills (50M) 8:52	May13 Pandora (M) 3:52	Jun13 WhisperPine (50k) 5:11
Jun13 Tarc (50M) 8:54	Jun13 SumSolstice (40M) 5:50	Aug13 VT100 22:55	Sep13 VIA (M) 3:11
Oct13 Palo Duro (50k) 4:38	Feb14 Cowtown (M) 3:14

  Events by year:

2004:  3                 2005:  1                 2006:  3                 2007:  4                 2008:  4                 2009:   6

2010:   2                2011:  11               2012:  4                 2013:   11              2014:  1  Done and 3 planned

Vermont 100

 

Vermont 100 mile endurance run

Sweetie, aka, Laura is quite the special gal. Her support during my period of crazy keeps me going through the tough training days and the heartbreaking race days. She is always there to let me know I’m ok, to pick me up from my low points, and celebrate our finish. Sweetie I love youJ

 

The Sweeties before the VT 100 race start. 

 

On the other hand, I have unwantingly come to accept my pesky little sister. Aka Anne (with an E). Anne refers to me as the big brother she never had and never really wanted. What can I say…. Without any apparent thought she held my feet, removed smelly wet rainbow toe socks, and helped clean my feet. I don’t believe an adoring little sister would ever do that for a big brother. Anne, I appreciate the support you gave me and Sweetie in Vermont. You’re an OK little sister – for a jogger that isJ

Chris, you rock! The Grand Slam is such an incredible journey and you are definitely going to kill it.

 

 Troy and Chris at the VT 100 start.  All fun now!

I learned to appreciate a few more things during this 100 mile event:

PAIN: Pain, it is a good thing. Pain is there to tell you when you have gone too far or done too much. Pain lets you know it is time to stop the nonsense. When you enter the period of crazy, like I seem to have done, you tell yourself pain has no business interfering with the plan. So when you are at mile 40 and the legs burn; the shoulders ache; the feet sting; and you have taken your last gasping breath of air; you tell pain to, “Go the Hell.” You persevere and keep taking one step after another. You celebrate each and every milestone you can imagine: reaching an aid station, running the first 10 yards of a hill, walking a hill without stopping, finding Sweetie for a kiss, drinking an ice cold coke, and being thankful you don’t have the Ultra-Lean yet. Pain can have her turn after you reach the 100 mile finish.  

 



On approach to mile 70 on a painful leg killing down hill.

Expanding on the period of crazy, one of the runners was participating in his 8^th Grand Slam. That’s four 100 mile runs (Western States, Vermont, Leadville, and Wasatch) between late June and early September. The dude was 62 years old. I think he is experiencing an exceptionally long period of crazy.

CRYING CHAIRS: What’s better – a long cry or several mini cries? At lean Horse in 2011 I spent roughly 2 hours in crying chairs. At the VT 100 I committed to myself that I would stay out of the crying chair. The Anne and Sweetie tag team enabled me to use the chair to my advantage. I’d flop into the chair as the tag team went into action bringing coke, water, and supplies. I stayed just long enough to drink a bottle of coke and get a quick rub down on the legs. I complained a few times about the never-ending hills but evidently my little sister lacks empathy and compassion. On one occasion she smiled sweetly, as only a little sister can do, and replied, “Vermont is no joke huh?” I think I understood the message. Quit whining and get your ass back on the trail. You will get no sympathy from me!

HORSES: VT 100 also includes an endurance race for horses. At the runner brief the race director says, “The horse will not run you over, but the rider might have a different idea.” I’m thinking someone in the past must have been trampled by a horse stampede. The experience is a little surreal when you hear a horse, I mean freight train, running at you from behind. My reaction was to get off the trail and hide behind a tree. My technique must have worked because I’m still alive.

VT 100 includes a horse endurance ride!

 

 

NAMES YOU LOVE AND HATE: One location on the course is known as Sound of Music Hill. Sure enough, we ran across a high meadow with grass blowing in the wind and surrounded by spectacular views of the VT Mountains. How could anyone not sing the Do-Re-Me tune while crossing this meadow? I came to realize that many of the uphills had sadistic street names. You just knew it was going to be bad when you read Hill Avenue or any other name with Mountain, Peak, Pain, or Agony in the title. Using the picture below (the left axis is 200 feet per line) can you guess how many times I regretted reading the street sign? If I told you there was a combined total of no more than 1 mile of flat running surface I would be lying.

 



WHATS TOUGHER: I get asked this question frequently: What’s harder, the 100 mile run or the Ironman? No offense to my Ironman friends, but the 100 mile run (and for some courses the 50 mile run) is a significantly more demanding event. That said, I also believe the training for a hundred mile event is significantly easier than the training for an Ironman. I can’t say I should be proud of the realization that I have it covered either way:)

TIMBER: If a tree falls in the VT Mountains do you hear it? Yes, especially when it falls on the 4x4 you are driving (Pictures to follow one day).

 VT 100 was number 9 of 11 for 2013. I finished 67^th in a field of 325. 200 completed the event with 97 beating the 24 hour buckle clock. I humbly accept the many chickings I received. Next up is the Allentown Marathon followed by Palo Duro.  

 

Troy and Chris - Buckle Winners!  Hey, where is the hair?

 

 

 

High Bucks-to-Mile = Low Runner-Return

High Bucks-to-Mile = Low Runner-Return 

Is it only me or do you also believe race entry fees increased without any real justification or benefit to the runner?  I recently ran in two events sponsored by Tejas Trails.  To be honest I think an early entry fee of $80/70/50 for a trail 50K/25K/10K is excessive (add another $20 for late entry fees).  If the fee covered some decent swag then maybe the millage would be justified.  Turns out I was wrong.

Maybe there are not any other fees?  Wrong.  In addition to the “Registration Fee” the Tejas Trails events also tacked on a few other fees.  When you arrive you get to pay the Private Owner’s daily use fee of $10/person – even if you are a spectator and not running.  You also get to buy your own food pre/post race.  Does anyone reading this really think a 10K trail run should cost $60 plus food?

Maybe the race aide stations will be every 2 miles?  Wrong.  You still need to carry your own hydration system.  While I’m at it, I’m growing very tired of hearing race directors for trail races state, “Aide stations are limited – after all it is a trail race and you should be self sufficient.”  Personally, that sentiment by trail running gray-hairs is bull shit.  Participation in trail running events over the past few years has soared.  Race directors need to recognize that many unprepared participants will attempt to complete the race and compensate with more frequently placed manned and unmanned aide stations.

The swag was really great?  Wrong.  Ill fitting cheap-o tech shirts with sponsor advertising all over the back.  There were nicer shirts for sale if you wanted one.  No finisher hat, shirt, mug, nothing.  Wait, I did get a generic finishers medal.  The same one that is handed out every year for every event distance.         

I bet the post race cookout and beer was fun?  Wrong.  Hungry-I hope you brought cash.  Thirsty- I hope you like BYOB (which I typically do anyway).  Ever do a Rock-N-Roll event?  How did you like buying the $5 cans of MichUltra (aka-water) when you finished?

At least some of the millage went to charity?  Wrong.  If it did, I was certainly not aware of the charity.

I understand that without race directors we would all be forced to find places to run on our own.  Imagine groups of people getting together to run on public and private lands all over the U.S. for a few bucks each.  In many ways race directors have a thankless job.  That said, there ought to be a bucks-to-mileage ratio of some sort.  As for me, I believe high dollar events should provide more runner amenities.  Too many times I find that as the fees go up the overall attention to the runner goes down.   I’ve done some recent non-Tejas events that cost a third to half less and been amazed by the attention the runners receive.  Pre-race meals, nice tech shirts, loot in the race pick-up bags, random door prizes, lots of portapotties, finisher apparel, post race meals, and beer. 

So how is it one organization/group is able to fully support their runners for 40 bucks while other organizers can’t seem to be minimally attentive for a 100 bucks?  When did running events become more about the take at the end of the day and less about the runner?  Why do I/we continue to support organizers that over-charge runners that participate in their events?   What is a fair price and why? 

It’s time to boycott organizers with a high bucks-to-mile ratio and a low runner return.

From Great, to Good, to Bad, to Horrible

Crazy Desert in San Angelo is a very fast trail course.  The local running club (San Angelo Road Lizards) do a good job with the event.

The weekend between Cross Timbers and Crazy Desert I started having IT Band issues with the left leg at the end of a long mileage weekend.  I finished the training run and the left leg was in poor condition.  The week before Crazy Desert I drastically cut back on the weekly mileage in an effort to rest the leg.  Crazy Desert 50K was the test.

I started out great!  At the half way point (about mile 16) I was running in first and was on my way to setting a new course record.  I was running comfortably with no issues whatsoever.  I had about a 1.5 mile lead on number 2 and 2 miles on number 3.   At mile 20 I checked by pace and was pleased to see I was still easily hitting 8 minute miles.

At mile 22 things dropped to good.  The temperature was in the low-80’s range and the 20-25 mph wind was relentless.  An occasional twinge along the IT Band had begun.  I was still running well, albeit a little slower. 

At mile 24 things dropped to bad.  I began having difficulty sustaining any run pace (even my old man shuffle) for more than a few minutes.  The IT Band pain was soaring.  I unsuccessfully tried mixing up the run/walk stride to compensate for the IT Band.  This only succeeded in wearing a half-dollar sized blister on the left foot and aggravating a very old and sometimes cranky groin injury. 

By mile 26 bad had become horrible.  I knew I would not complete the race.  I was unable to walk more than 50-100 yards without having to stop and attempt to rub down the left leg.  What I really needed was a little “Massage By ErinJ”  Still in first, when I reached mile 27 I sat down, called for the SAG wagon, ordered a beer and popped two painkillers.

I might have been able to walk out the final 4 miles.  It would have taken about 2 hours and I very likely would have trashed the leg and potentially initiated damage to other body parts.  I’ve run with severe pain before.  Somehow the body just knows when you can run in pain and when you are supposed to cease and desist all activity.  This was a cease and desist day.  In the end I worked in a solid long trail run and I’m still able to continue training for VT100.  Even though I know dropping out is the right call, every part of me is disappointed with a DNF while leading the race.

There’s always next year – right?    

What have you done for me now?

“He used to be a runner.  Now he is old, slow and fat.”  I think the sharp comment directed at me by a soon to be former trackie as I rounded the corner is mostly in jest with a pinch of reality.  Is it true that you are only as good as last week’s mileage total?  Why does our small band of runners consistently evaluate each other in terms of, “What have you done for me now?”

We all have running accomplishments.  We retell running exploits while sitting around the beer chest and crowding each other’s kitchens during parties devouring deserts.  Eventually the questions become, “How much did you run this week or what is your next event?”  A piercing reminder of that was before – not now.   

And so, it was during a break in training (some may say lapse in training) that I had to once again pull it together and muster the confidence to start anew.  I had to find the will to do what is natural – run.

I struggle with getting my mind right.  I feel the need to watch, “Cool Hand Luke,” right now.    The joy of running, without purpose, isn’t very joyful. 

The first thing I need to do is simple.  Just go run.  A few miles is better than no miles.  3 days per week is better than no days per week.  Every week in a month is better than no weeks a month…  

The second thing I need to do is painless.  Just commit to something - anything.  Pick an event and put down the money.  Here in lies my weakness.  I don’t “just commit.”  I go big.  For me, commitment is a toss-up between ambitious goal setting and complete stupidity.  This time around I went for complete stupidity.

The third thing I need to do will physically hurt.  Get serious about your commitment.  Money is involved.  Missing an event due to a self induced lack of training from an apathetic attitude isn’t going to happen.  Scott Hamilton once said, “The only disability in life is a bad attitude.”  It is time for me to choose my attitude.  It is time to run with a purpose.  It is time to embrace the pain (there will be pain) and joy (there will be joy) of another training cycle.

The fourth thing I need to do is mentally tough.  Accept the kind words and motivation from others along the way.  Return the favor.  What we do as a runner-in-training is a significant undertaking, both personally and for those nearby.         

It’s all paid in advance.  Now to implement my 2013 Plan of Complete Stupidity in order to accomplish my ridiculously ambitious 2014 goal.  The ultimate goal is to run my 50^th marathon/ultramarathon at the 2014 Cowtown Marathon at least one hour faster than my first marathon.  My first Marathon was at the 2004 Cowtown Marathon in just under 4 hours.

To meet the goal I need to complete a crazy number of events in 2013.  You are more than welcome to share some or all of the pain along the way (Psycho 50K, Cross Timbers Marathon, Crazy Desert Marathon, Grasslands Marathon, Hell’s Hills 50M, Pandora’s Box of Rocks Marathon, Whispering Pines 50K, Abilene Summer Solstice 6HR, Vermont 100M, Palo Duro 50K and one other TBD event). 

For 2013 I think I will have a response for, “What have you done for me now?”

A Man of Iron

A Man of Iron

My Sherpa-Sweetie is fabulous.  She is unbelievably supportive and gets most of the credit for my Ironman success.  Laura, I love you. 

Many more need to be thanked.  The RAW and Trackie families were always there to listen, support, and encourage.  I’m grateful and thankful to each of you. 

Life can be cruel and unmerciful...

Many of us, myself included, have made resolutions that were never fulfilled, simply ignored, or contained loopholes to numerous to give meaning to the desired change.  Why I chose to stick to a particular resolution some 18 months ago remains a mystery.  I suppose that deep down a meaningful desire for change had taken root.

I swore to myself that if I ever said, “Oh Hell No!” in response to an untried activity, I must accomplish the task.  I found myself eating sushi, taking dance lessons, and rather regretting my prior stupidity and enjoying new-found interests.  That was until I made the inevitable wrong response to the question, “Do you think you will do an Ironman?”  Did my soul have conviction?  Surely this warrants a free pass?  I chose to fulfill my commitment to a new life and commence the one year plus journey.

I didn’t swim.  I possessed no swim gear.  I didn’t bike.  I only had a rusted commuter bike with big fat rotting tires and a frozen chain.  I am a runner.  A rather cocky smartass runner.  As my co-Ironman Michelle says, “You are one cocky m-f’er!”

A kind soul – Dan, helped me with the selection and build of a bike.  Lady Gold-Digger is an engineering beauty.  After eight months of riding we have come to accept our love-hate relationship.  LA Fitness did all they could, but to this day I still hate swimming.  At the end of each swim event at every triathlon I have done (there were four) I shout, “I HATE SWIMMING!!!!”            

I need to move this story along.  My blog, http://www.troyscrazysideofrunning.blogspot.com/ has a couple of road to Ironman stories that are worth reading.  I’m moving the story line to Arizona!

Emotions and second guessing filled the week before AZ.  There was plenty of self doubt.  I trained to hard.  I didn’t train enough.  The swim is going to kill me.  The constant pedaling on the bike will trash the legs.  The run will be my downfall. 

On Friday I arrive at Ironman Central for registration and the commencement of long waiting lines for everything.  There is too much free time for more second guessing.  What have I done?  Look at the distance of the swim!  Oh no, there is a crack in the road my tire is bound to hit!  Honestly, between Sherpa-Sweetie and the volunteers, there is a bunch a reassuring going on.  The volunteers, to a person, were there to ensure success for all athletes.  It is amazing how well they provided one-on-one personal support for each encounter.        

The Friday night athlete dinner and briefing turned out to be a little bit terrifying for the virgin Ironman.  For some perverted reason, the race officials thought it would be fun to show the swim start over and over and over…..  Not something I wanted to revisit every 30 seconds.  For me, the swim represents 1.75 hours of terror.  Every second of swim video depicts a slug fest in the making.  More than once Sherpa-Sweetie senses my self doubt and turns to ask if I’m alright.  She knows why I’m so quiet.  For a year I’ve said I can do this.  All I have to do is, “Get out of the water.”

Saturday morning is the practice swim.  I’m consumed with fear and nervous energy.  Who am I to be swimming with all these other athletes?  Getting in the water is a little unnerving and not something I fully appreciated.  Imagine a herd of wilder beasts being chased by a pack of lions.  The lions have the herd pinned on a cliff above a river.  All of a sudden the beasts all start jumping from the cliff into the water.  If you fail to freely jump in, the mass behind you shoves you in.  This is exactly what occurred for the practice swim and race day.  The water is soooooooo cold (62-63 degrees).  Needles are being jabbed into every millimeter of exposed skin.  Within seconds I’m being pummeled by other swimmers.  Panic starts to set in and I have to force myself to get the arms swinging.  By-Run’s Lean Horse mantra sets in, “Keep moving – forward progress.”  Finally, I’m pulled from the water onto the exit stairs.  The next day’s morning swim is weighing heavily on my thoughts.  “Just get out of the water, hopefully at the swim exit.”

Next up is TriBike Transport.  These guys are everything they advertised.  They are located beside bike transition; and are helpful, friendly, responsive, timely…. the whole package.  Well worth the money spent to ship Lady Gold-Digger and a gear bag.  The bike is in great shape for Saturday’s 10-15 minute joy ride.  She’s a thoroughbred in need of an expert rider.  I’ll just have to do.   

Race day starts early.  4 a.m. came mighty fast.  Breakfast, final gear check, and head out to the transition area with my Sherpa-Sweetie.  There was a little extra planning I had to complete without Laura noticing.  You see, Ironman day was also our one year of dating anniversary and deserved special treatment.  I wrapped a ring in tissue, placed the ring in a plastic sleeve, duct taped the plastic, and slipped the package into my morning gear bag.  This is going to be a big day:)

Transition is wild!  People are going crazy everywhere.  I make my way to the run and bike gear bags.  Everything is where it should be.  I slid the package into a running shoe and headed for Lady Gold-Digger.  The bikes are jammed into racks like sardines in a can.  I stock my bike nutrition bag with shot blocks and peanut butter sandwiches, fill the bottles with coke and Ironman Perform, check the air pressure, and say goodbye to Lady Gold-Digger.  I walk around the transition area in circles for a few minutes trying to comprehend the chaos.  Sherpa-Sweetie calls out from the railing.  A friendly face and a calming presence!  Perfect! 

Soon enough Michelle, Jason, and the Drum Squad appear.  It’s good to see so many friendly’s.  So many hugs, kisses, pictures, hand slaps, and good wishes.  All the things you want to set you on your way.  The athlete crowd begins moving towards the water.  Fear seeps its way into the belly.  “Just get out of the water.” 

I’m glad I did the practice swim.  The second jump into the soooooo cold water goes well.  On the short swim to the start I’m pummeled by surrounding swimmers.  I stopped swimming and the pummeling gets worse.  And then, I’ve finally had enough.  My inner voice says, “Do not be a victim!”  “Dish it out!”  “Be aggressive!”  This turns out to be a significant turn of events.                                

Swimmers are bobbing all around me like apples at a Halloween party.  I know what everyone is doing.  We are all literally peeing in our pants (wetsuits).  It’s disgusting.  One of the worse sensations I can now remember is urine bubbles trickling out of my wetsuit around the neckline of my wetsuit.  Forget swim training, this is what it takes to become an Ironman:)

We’re off!  Complete and total mass chaos has ensued.  Within seconds I have been punched, kicked, swam over, grabbed, and rammed.  I haven’t even made it to the start line yet!   “Do not be a victim!”  I start swimming defensively.  Long reaches with the hands.  Searching for contact with the body parts of others.  This helps, but it’s not enough.  There are too many swim bullies in the water.   “Dish it out!”  “Be aggressive!”  Within a few minutes I begin to take a new tact to group swimming.  You grab my right foot more than once – expect the left foot in your face.  If I make contact with your torso, expect to be pushed to the side with an elbow.  Feel like holding an arm or leg, expect a few frog kicks.  When I did get hit in the face I found myself saying, “Damn, that was a good one!” 

As fate would have it, my swim time coincided with a large mass of swimmers.  For 2.4 miles I never had a clear swim lane.  Because of the tight swim pack I rarely had to spot and swam the straightest line ever.  I even swam head-on into 3 buoys.  I thought I had been dealt a bad hand, only to discover I was holding four aces.  With my first step on dry land I faced the crowd and proclaimed, “I HATE SWIMMING!!!!”  This brings a cheer:)  A few feet away Sherpa-Sweetie is on the rail with a pep-kiss for luck:)  On race morning I predicted 1:40-1:45 would be a great time for me and my 7 months of swim experience.  On race day, for no good reason whatsoever, I turned in a 1:28.  I am amazed and astonished at the result.

Swim to bike transition goes well.  There are great volunteers at the stripper station, with the gear bags, and with the bike!  I avoided the changing tent altogether by wearing my trisuit during the swim.  I put on my bike gear outside the tent and avoided the mass of male hormones inside.  A quick stop with the sunscreeners and off to find Lady Gold-Digger.  By the way, the sunscreen stop is also disgusting.  Volunteers with rubber gloves dip their hands into vats of sunscreen lotion and rub one athlete after another down.  Not something I would do any other day of the year:)  Forget bike training, this is what it takes to be an Ironman.

A volunteer brings Lady Gold-Digger to me.  I made it out of the water, now she’s ready to roll.  Sherpa-Sweetie is on the bike-shoot rail to cheer me on.  She is an amazing woman.  The first part of the bike is fast.  Flat and smooth roads combined with an adrenaline rush from the crowd sets me off on a 19-20 mph pace.  The pace slowly fades as the course makes its way out of town and onto the Bee Line Highway.  Initially it’s a low grade incline (false flat) into a slight head wind.  The incline slowly increases, as does the wind speed, and I slowly decrease to 14-15 mph.  Before the top of the hill I spot Michelle.  She’s having a tough go right now and makes an amazing recovery during the race.  Half of me wants to ride with her and the other half is saying it’s time to move on.  We talk for a few seconds and then I pull away.  Whatever bug she had I managed to have right now.  Believe me, it must have totally sucked to do an Ironman event, and makes her finish even more incredible. 

It’s a free ride at the turn on the first loop.  I love the downhill, tailwind, and smooth road.  In an instant I’m doing 32-34 mph and loving the bike!  On the approach for loop two the Drum Squad and my Sherpa-Sweetie are whooping it up!  What a rush!  Back to the Bee Line Highway, Part 2.  Something’s different this time.  I’m holding 18-20 mph?  Damn I’m better than I thought!  I make the turn on Loop 2 and ut-oh, something’s wrong.  I should be doing 33 mph but I’m only doing 23-24 mph.  Then it hits me, WIND SHIFT!  No wonder I made it up the hill so fast:)  That’s ok, I’d rather have a tailwind uphill any day!  On the approach for loop three the Drum Squad and my Sherpa-Sweetie are being persistent cheerleaders!  Still a rush!  Back to the Bee Line Highway, Part 3.  It’s a slower go this time and I’m ready for the bike event to be over.  About 95 miles in I suck down 20 ounces of cola (magic in a bottle) and endure the remaining 17 miles.  My goal heading into race day was for me and my 7 months of cycling experience to break 6 hours (2 hours per loop).  It was a close call, my actual race day performance was 6:00:48. 

Bike to run transition also goes well.  Terrific volunteers at every step.  The bacteria laden sunscreen tubs are still there and used for a second time.  The package was where I left it in my running shoe.  I placed it in my trisuit and headed down the path.  During a pep-kiss from Sherpa-Sweetie a nearby course official made a joking remark about receiving an unfair aid advantage:)  I feel good and have a positive outlook.  Off I go for the first of three loops.  The first mile went well, sub 8 minute mile, and then I settled into a comfortable 8:15ish mile pace.  By the end of loop one I was beginning to struggle.  Dehydration, the sun, and heat were gaining an advantage.  At the beginning of Loop 2 Sherpa-Sweetie gives me another pep-kiss.  She could since a change in attitude and asked how I was doing.  My response, “It’s getting really hard to do this.”  I started a slow run down the path and in a mile began to walk.  I commenced a rapid decline between miles 9-13.  Luckily, I have visited the “Land of Suckney” on more than one ultramarathon.  I knew I needed to treat the remainder of the run as though it were a 50 mile event (walk every up no matter how small).  I knew I needed cola.  I started with the cola, only I didn’t take in enough and I ended up run-walking each mile.  Finally I realized I needed a LARGE QUANTITY of the magic potion.  At mile 12 I stopped at the cola table and drank cup after cup after cup of cola.  I managed to run all the way to the mile 13 aid station.  I stopped at the cola table and drank cup after cup after cup of cola.  I had become a runner again!  Only slowing down to walk each aid station and two hills on the back side of the course. 

While on Loop 2 another twist of fate, a flashing, and a third disgusting practice occur.  Around mile 13 my Garmin died.  Initially I was pissed.  In retrospect the absence of a watch proved to be fortuitous.  I focused on effort based running, whatever the pace, and didn’t have to worry about hitting my mile splits.  Karma soon rewarded my change in attitude.  A couple feet in front of me a cheering squad decided their athlete needed positive reinforcement.  One of the gals decided to go topless (massive hooters) and jog 30-40 yards with her athlete.  If only I had remembered to wear my glasses:).  Ever wonder what happens to aid station sponges?  It’s disgusting!  Runner 1 grabs a sponge and rubs their self down (head, neck, face, pits, chest, crotch…) and tosses sponge on the ground.  Volunteer 1 places used sponge back into the issue can.  Volunteer 2 hands used sponge to Runner 2 and the cycle repeats.  In Arizona there are 8 run aid stations.  Each aid station is passed 3 times by 2900 athletes.  There are 50 sponges per issue bucket.  Care to guess how many athletes used the same sponge?  Forget run training, this is what it takes to be an Ironman.          

I was in grand form at the beginning of Loop 3.  Sherpa-Sweetie recognized the change right away.  She reads me like a well read novel.  I handed off the defunct Garmin and my visor, received another pep-kiss, and I’m on my last loop.  I ran a terrific Loop 3.  I stuck with the walk the aid stations, drink the magic potion, and walk the two hills on the back side.  I also quit using the recycled sponges:)  My post race review of the Facebook posts were fun to read.  The TX trackers had counted me out during Loop 2.  It was exciting to relive the experience through reading their change in attitude during the recovery:)  How awesome is it to find out folks were huddled in Joe and Evelyn’s bedroom to watch the race results on a computer monitor?  Or that many others are tracking you online and making commentary on how you are doing?  Some even refused to conduct all their bathroom business because they might miss the finish (a true fan:))

On the back side of Loop 3, By-Run and the Ninja leaped out from behind a cactus.  Like I had the excess energy to be scared:)  They ran with me for a short while, whooping and hollering the whole time!  It was fun to have the company while it lasted.  By-Run’s appearance also solved a problem I was having with delivery of the package.  I was worried I would not be able to reach her down finisher’s lane or that she might be in the bleachers.  I asked, and By-Run ensured, Sherpa-Sweetie would be properly positioned at the finish area.  Not an easy feat given Sherpa-Sweetie’s best efforts to ignore By-Run’s pleadings.  With the logistics solved, all I had left to do was enjoy the final few miles.

The final mile goes by in a flash.  Hand slapping, waving arms, and all smiles.  I stopped at the turn for finisher’s lane.  I took the package out of my trisuit (I only checked to make sure it was there a 1000 times on the run).  I had expertly sealed the package and could not remove the duct tape.  I had a course marshal remove the tape for me.  Then I started fumbling with the contents.  Unwrapping the package was proving to be a challenge as well.  I had a couple spectators help me with the wrapping.  They were very excited to see the contents.

I moved quickly down finisher’s lane.  I almost ran right by Sherpa-Sweetie and the Drum Squad.  Laura reached out and grabbed me before I missed her completely:)  I stopped and said, “Laura, there’s something I need you to do before I become an Ironman.”  I dropped to one knee and asked her to marry me.  How Laura was able to laugh, cry, drop to her knees, nod her head, and say yes all at once is impressive:)  Her happiness means everything to me.  I love us and I love you Laura:)  

After 11 hours and 51 minutes, amidst the crowd of screaming and shouting fans, I hear the words, “Troy Pruett – You…  Are…  An…  IRONMAN!!!!”     

You know, sometimes life can be pretty darn good.

How Difficult Can This Be?

Once upon a time there was this good-looking over-confident guy who thought he could run.  “How difficult can this (running) be?”  He quickly discovered the best that could be done was a few hundred measly meters.  The handsome gent hid away for several months, self confidence shattered.  Somewhere deep inside he found his heart and eventually mastered the marathon, the 50K, the 50 mile, and even the 100 mile.  Now what was this gorgeous man to do?

 

The man with lovely locks of hair thought he could do an Iron Man.  “Easy enough,” he says.  “After all, I am an accomplished endurance runner,” he comments with a smug tone.  “How difficult can this (Iron Man) be?  I’ve run 21 plus hours.  The Iron Man is only a 10-12 hour event – half the time.”  No one ever said this alluring gent had any brains.

 

One would think the tall and increasingly well tanned phenom, would have learned a lesson or two after many failed trail-and-error episodes of, “How difficult can this be,” statements.  You would think Mr. Beautiful’s every dream turns into a haunting nightmare of, “How difficult can this be,” replays.  One of these days the pretty-boy might learn his lesson. 

 

I’m sure this sweet man will never forget his first swim.  “How difficult can this be?”  He says, “It’s only 25 meters to the end and I am wearing the best form fitting swim attire on the market.  If you look good, you will swim good.  Why I bet I can swim a mile without any difficulty whatsoever.”  In yet another self confidence shattering attempt, the sleek man propelled himself to the far end of the pool and back.  After 50 meters he stood in the pool with his slim upper body flayed on the pool deck like a beached whale.  With his chin on his fury chest and his long arms dragging behind him, he slowly got out of the pool.  I thought I heard the self-defeated man say to himself, “How difficult can this be?”  What did the jack-wagon expect to happen? 

 

You would think the pulchritudinous (I had to look it up in Webster’s myself, it means physical comeliness) man would learn a lesson wouldn’t you?  Not a chance.  The resplendent man still regrets his first bike ride.  “How difficult can this be?”  He says, “I have consulted with experts, found the perfect machine, and emptied my bank account.  I have acquired stunning attire.  If I look good, I will ride far.  Why I bet I can ride 100 miles without any difficulty whatsoever.”  What followed was yet another self confidence shattering attempt.  The dazzling man barley fit his feet into the pedals, spun the wheels feverously for 5 miles, and disgracefully dismounted from the machine.  Turns out the exquisite man’s buns of steel were, quite sadly, not made of steel.  His delicate shoulders slumped.  As he loaded the machine into the car I thought I heard the dejected man say to himself, “How difficult can this be?”  What an idiot.

 

The fairy tale is not all bad.  The ravishing man has managed to make remarkable progress in a relatively short time span.  With a lot of heart and effort, sprinkled with the love a Sweetie, the statuesque man has managed to conquer the swim and be the master of his machine.  A 2 mile swim is becoming a matter of routine and a 100 mile ride is almost boring (well it is boring). 

 

How difficult can this be?   Plenty!