Tri RobbyB Tri :: T-Minus

What?! Where?! What am I supposed to be doing today? Bike? Run? Swim? Let's go! You're late!

That was my body's response to waking up this morning at 5, a full hour before any alarm bells. For once, I didn't have anywhere to be at 5. So, I peed and went back to sleep, with different sections of me race running through my head: easy on the bike, pedal circles, keep moving, and that oh-so-special finish line. At 6, I finally got up and picked up Sheila and her friend Judy for breakfast.

They'd never heard of Mickey's Dairy Bar. I don't think they'll forget it. I warned them of the portion size, but that didn't faze them. Somehow, "Pancakes a half-inch think and as big as your head" didn't sink in. Two plates each of eggs & French Toast later (I went with strawberry pancakes. So good.), we made our way to the Gatorade Swim. It seemed they renamed Lake Monona to Gatorade. I just about hit the bottom swimming with breakfast sitting low in the belly. I tasted those strawberry pancakes at a couple of different spots around the loop. Ford is STILL sponsoring Ironman. Just in case you didn't know that, because I forgot. But, between the floating Ford sign and the two signs hanging off the Monona Terrace, reminded me.

I spent part of the day relaxing, helping at work for a couple of hours, then off to the carbo-loading dinner. Lots of people there. They introduced the youngest and oldest age groupers. The youngest male, 20, got into Ironman after he got cut from his college swim team (Miami of Ohio) for not having enough endurance. "I want to stick it to them," he said, along with a prediction of a 49-minute swim split. The oldest female, 62, had the quote of the night. Mike Reilly asked how sweet it would be to pass another female on the course, knowing she's the oldest. Her reply: "I like it much better when I pass younger men." Local legend, Mark Johnson, a member of the Miracle on Ice hockey team spoke. He and his son are racing for the first time. There were lots of questions about drafting after. Some people are really splitting hairs. None of which are competing for Kona slots, that much was obvious. Just drop back; it's that simple folks. Jimmy was doing his best to keep his patience.

The orange quarter moon was drifting low in the sky as I walked home. It's 73 degrees as type this shortly after 9 PM. That's the normal high for this time of year. The prediction for Sunday is now up to 89 with a southerly breeze between 8 & 14 mph.

My mind is solid. I will drink. I will eat. I will move forward, steady and slow. I will finish. Bring it on.

T-Minus 1 day...

I was away from Madison for work on Wednesday. It was a good thing, too. Because I would've pressed my face against the window (I can see the finish line from our office) leaving nose prints as they set up the bleachers. I would not have gotten any work done. It's official: Ford does indeed sponsor Ironman North America Events.

The morning dawned poorly. The sun was obscured by low clouds, and the lake was angry. Choppy waves proved to be an obvious impediment for the gaggle of swimmers daring the morning swim. The cool wind brought enough bite to pause and ponder the forecasted high of 88 on Sunday. How could it get so hot in only three days? Only in Wisconsin.

I biked a portion of the run course, just to make sure it was still there. (It is.) But now, mile markers were painted, and aide stations were marked as well. Like Sesame Street, the letters F, G, C, W and Gu sponsor each aide station.

The morning at work was crazy. I think my head exploded twice. Add to that a call from our construction guys working near the run course, wondering if the course has changed in the last day. Run Course change! Zoinks! I find nothing on the website, but the traffic control plan (PDF) conflicts. Which one is correct? I'll have to look deeper into that.

At lunch today, I registered. It was very smooth with no waiting, and very friendly volunteers leading the way. I thanked each and everyone as I moved from station to station. It was surreal to see my name below large-type 336. And then, the bracelet. The silver, iridescent rainbow identifier that all the athletes wear. Gulp! This is really happening!

There's a reverence I have for Ironman. Sure, the branding helps, but the elusiveness entering, and let alone finishing, an M-dot race makes it special. The bracelet represents membership to an elite, if not idiotic, club. Right or wrong, I respected those bracelets and held those athletes with high regard. I'm honored and psyched to wear the silver. I will toe the line with the best, have fun, and see what comes.

After finishing with registration, I track down an IMNA official about the run course. She has no idea of a course change. More info will be announced at the dinner & meeting. I rush home to check out the sweet schwag bag. Talk about a disappointment. The best thing I got was a bib belt from some insurance company. And that wasn't even in the bag; I put it there after I picked it off of their table. I've got enough paper to start my own forest. Sheesh.

The sun struggled to come out over lunch, but more clouds rolled in and may bring some rain. Tonight, I have a short run. I'll set out my bags and start to pile which stuff goes where. I meet friends for breakfast and a swim tomorrow morning.

Until this morning, I was calm and relatively connected. This morning's workload rattled me. I haven't sat still since. Now, I'm pumped, nervous, and anxious all at the same time.

T-Minus 2 days...

This morning, I woke up with the anxiousness of a two-year old at Christmas, rushing to the window to see if anything changed out front. You see, I live two blocks from the Monona Terrace, home of the Ironman Village. They shut down my street during race day. The shuttle out to the bike course is a block away. The finish line is two blocks away. I can see the swim course out the kitchen window. I can see the start (and end) of the bike course on John Nolen Drive out of the same window. We live practically on top of the central nervous system of IM WI. As such, I can only contain my excitement so much.

I was up with the sun this morning for an easy, hour-long ride. On my way back, I skipped the road leading directly to my apartment, opting to go around the block to see if the famed M-dot has arrived on the Monona Terrace. Alas, it has not. I was hoping for a little something. Not even the banners on the light poles were up. I mean, don't they know we're only five days out!?! How could they be so blase about this? Didn't I pay an arm and a leg to be inundated with that damn M-dot? What gives?

I've seen hints of the dot. The bike course has signs requesting that fans do not use paint on the roads. Just this morning, there are more signs warning of the street closures. Last week, the paper listed them all on a full-page ad. There are hints of other athletes, too. (The fuel belts are a dead giveaway.) I'm sure that tomorrow will open the flood gates. Athletes and M-dots alike. Stay tuned.

T-Minus 4+ days...

It's Monday. The Labor Day weekend is coming to a close. Summer is unofficially over. The Monona Terrace flashed "Welcome Ironman Wisconsin 2005" on its marquee. There's less than six days on the countdown clock. It's finally time for Ironman Wisconsin to begin.

A moment of clarity came last week when I realized that it's not a question of my ability to finish, but rather at what time. There are two things that can prevent me from finishing: a bike crash, or a body crash. I can control the latter; it just takes a significant amount of mental fortitude.

It will be very easy for me to push the bike too fast, feeling too strong, and not leave anything for the run. Doing so will turn the run into a walk, and while I can accept that, I do not want it to. What would be the point of running all those miles if I can't actually run in the race? I've come too far in my running, and overcome some serious obstacles to walk for 26 miles. Besides, a seven hour walk sounds really, really boring. I must be diligent on the bike to eat, drink, and relax. I can do it; I just have to remind myself.

My body is getting restless. I catch myself with my leg bouncing, my arms twitching, my fingers tapping. I've stayed in most of the weekend, and drank plenty of water. I've fallen back on sage advice from swimming as a kid for a taper: Rest, Relax, Stay out of the Sun. Another five days of really easy workouts, and then one really long training day.

T-Minus 5 days...

THUNK!

THUNK!

My bike shoes lock in the pedals and the cool morning bites my exposed skin. I pull onto John Nolen Lake Shore path and settle into my aero bars.

Splash! Splash! Splash! Three fish jump in unison in the lake, coordinated enough to make me think they're wishing me well on my morning ride. I passed early morning runners, fewer than during the week -- must be the holiday weekend. Saturdays are a good reason to sleep in.

But not for me. Mornings are my time. A co-worker commented that finding time to train for a marathon was hard in his life, let alone finding time for three sports. I told him it's all about 5 AM. I continue east on McCoy Road, my shadow growing in front of me. It' hard to believe that's me. I see my two legs imitating a set of pistons, cranking on the pedals as I settle into a nice pace. The wind whistles through me ears, but it's silent. There's no one around. For two hours, it's me and my bike. Just the way I like it.

T-Minus 7 days...

I walk to work each morning with a well known secret. I know that in a week, the same streets I use to get to work will be teeming with fit triathletes. The unsuspecting throng of 8 to 5ers continue their zombie walks into work. They think next week will be like this week, only one day shorter. But I know a secret. I know that men with shaved legs and women cut with furious muscles will descend on downtown Madison like they own the place.

The throng will munch on their donuts and stare at all the fit folks. The streets will go through their own makeover. Banners will go up on the light poles, bleachers will be erected, buoys placed in the lake. The throng will forget last year and ask, "What's going on?" Meanwhile, a little village forms at the Monona Terrace. Tents will showcase the latest advancements in Ford vehicles, the latest in carbon fiber, and even set up an "endless pool." More than 2,000 fit folks eagerly stop at all the tents in the village, taking a keen interest in foreign words like gel, salt tablets, hyponatremia, bricks, PRs, GTG vs. USAT. They make new friends and reacquaint with old ones. As Sunday draws near, there's something growing behind their eyes: Fear. Fear of my secret. For no matter how many times you've done it, it is never easy.

I too fear the secret. The secret is Ironman.

With each passing day, my fear grows. After each workout, I overcome the fear, increasing my confidence. I rode the loop of the bike course one final time last Saturday. I was fearful of my knee, of the gravel on the roads, of the hills. Lots of doubt raced through my head. With each passing mile, my knee strengthened, the gravel was packed and the hills climbed. Fear? What Fear?

T-Minus 10 days...

The live video feed from IM Canada is showing all the finishers from today's race. I've been watching for the past hour. The announcer works feverishly to announce each and every name of the successful racers. Some cross with their hands raised. Some cross with their hands clutching their kids, husbands, wives, dads, and moms. Some cross and immediately put their hands on their knees. Some cross and immediately collapse. Some cross and congratulate a new friend met on the course. All cross the line. All finish. All are Ironman.

In only two weeks, I aim to cross that same line. (A photo of it is atop the workouts section of RobbyB.com.) When things got tough training out on the course, I have closed my eyes, imagined that line and everyone along the finishing chute. Then, the hills don't seem so big anymore, the miles aren't as long, the legs flow freely.

It's all about that line. My hands will be raised, my smile proud, and my body tired. I will get there.

I will.

T-minus 13 days...

I watched the sun rise from Lake Monona this morning. Not from the shore, but actually in the lake. Forty others swam in the lake with me. The sun sparkled a deep red as it cleared the trees and quickly dove behind the low morning clouds. It was the same as when you open your eyes to wake up, but then hit the snooze and quickly pull the covers over your eyes. It didn't want to be up either.

About halfway through the swim, I stopped in the water to wave to Kris. (You can see our apartment window from the water.) There was no response, so I knew she was probably still in bed. I thought, "That'd be nice; to be back in bed. But this isn't so bad. Would I really want be somewhere else?" I smiled to myself. Deep down I knew the answer: If I have to be up, it might as well be right where I am, swimming the same course I will be attacking with 2,000 others in two and a half weeks. It's going to be fun.

T-Minus 18 days...

The small birch tree rustles in the wind above me. Gentle waves crash into the rocky shoreline. In three weeks, where I sit, watching boats play on Lake Monona, there will be a large, Civil War era cannon. The dock that extends from the shore will hold the national anthem singer and guest starter for the fourth annual Ironman Wisconsin triathlon. The wall behind me will be teeming with family, friends and curious onlookers. Triathletes will bid nervous good-byes, which returned by encouragement of strength, speed, luck, some through tears. They will make their way out to Lake Monona, ready to begin a day that will change the rest of their lives.

If they survive the day, they will reach a level of accomplishment that very few will ever know. They will be Ironmen. If they fail to reach the finish line, they will have been defeated by one of the toughest individual endurance events. But that won't stop them, they will strive to get to that finish line another day.

In three weeks, I will be attempting to join this exclusive company. I will say my own nervous good-byes, and wade into water to start my version of a 140.6 mile journey with 2,000 other people.

I've done all that I can up to this point. Though the last three weeks didn't go as planned, I can do nothing at this point to make up for it. The next three weeks will be spent resting tired muscles. I will continue to prepare my mind, crossing the finish line over and over again, and then one more time to be sure. "What the mind perceives, the body achieves."

T-Minus 21 days...

Each day dawns later, signaling the dwindling days of summer. Getting up at "o-dark thirty" is getting more literal every day. Wednesday morning brought a touch of fall chill as we walked to Law Park, ready to meet the others wiggling into their wetsuits. The water was calm, but glowed fiery red as the pale blue sky faded to light orange and bright red. My strokes seemed extra smooth, as I attempted to keep things long and strong. "Hold back. You'll need the energy for later in the day." It's my new mantra that, looking back, wasn't present in Racine, where the heat required the slower pace, only I didn't oblige. I've come to the realization that a five minute advantage on the swim takes more than five minutes of energy from the bike and run. It's a diminishing return to push the swim.

I made it to the turn around point (one-quarter of the 2.4 mi swim course) in 15 minutes, slower than previous workouts. To get back to Law Park, you have to fight a small current in the lake, usually adding a minute to a split. On Wednesday, I went one minute faster. Turns out, starting easy is beneficial on the swim, too. Maybe building up each discipline will be a smart strategy.

The same sun set the same scintillating red, only now I was in Indiana. The Cattail Trail moved silently under my feet as the setting sun scorched the humid night as I made my way back to the University Inn. In West Lafayette to demonstrate a traffic software package, I ran to the Purdue campus and back. I was very fortunate not to have packed any Badger gear for my run. The Purdue football practice was just ending as I made my way through campus. Although tempting, I bit my tongue from shouting "Go Badgers!" as Coach Joe Tiller walked passed. He did not look happy, nor did any of the lineman that were following close behind.

Although I saw it in different locations, the sun rose and set on another day on my road to Ironman. T-Minus 23 days...

Iontophoresis is the method of using electrical current to administer drugs to the patient. From all of my research, that's the best definition I could come up with to explain the procedure succinctly. I've been through three treatments thus far. There are two pads with metal connections on the outside. One has a gauze-like pad into which the medication is applied. It is then applied directly atop to the affected area. The other is black and has a identical metal connection. This is placed on a "meaty" area of the body, usually the calf muscle for my knee. Two wires connected to a control box are then connected to the pads. The control box is literally "dialed-in" to the dosage being applied and the amperage between the two diodes. The higher the amperage, the faster the treatment is, but the burning/itching feeling is more intense. It takes me twenty minutes to go through a full dose. It takes all I can not to scratch the pads. Once the time is up, the pads are removed and I'm on my way.

A full course of treatment is 5-6 applications, with symptom relief usually felt in 3-4 applications. Because my discomfort was relatively minor, I think two treatments worked for me. The third today should help as I prepare to bike some more this week based on Sunday's successful ride.

My anxiety of the tendonitis and the ever present doubt was reduced somewhat by two realizations on Saturday's run. The first was finishing the near three-hour run. I can actually run. Doing so after a 112-mile bike is another thing, but at least I can run decently. The final forty-three minutes (miles 14-18) went by very fast. From those that have done marathons, I hear it's the next three miles: 19, 20, and 21 that are the most mentally challenging. My hope is that because there will be so many more miles behind me (132 vs. 18), that my mental state will be one of joy, rather than pain.

The second realization was when Kris (my IronSherpa) stated, "I think you're underestimating...your fitness level." She didn't know it at that time, but that simple comment made my day, week, and pretty much my whole training effort. Although, I'm sure there'll be days when I doubt it, I really am ready. I just have to go prove it. I don't know what will be tougher, the mental or the physical demands of the day.

T-Minus 26 days...

Good news from the Doctor's office. Dr. Timmerman, himself an Ironman Wisconsin veteran, was kind enough to fit me in today. He and some residents did some extensive poking and prodding - all welcome - to my knee. His verdict: slight patellar tendonitis. It's not significant enough to hinder my training, but I will tone the bike mileage down as a result. There's to be no standing while pedaling, and I must spin in the highest gear up hillls to keep the pressure down on my knee. I also got some stretches for the IT band, which will hopefully loosen my knee up, and even a strap to put on my knee to relieve some pressure. On Wednesday, I have an appointment for iontophoresis to administer some anti-inflammatory medication. And after all that, there's still even more adjustments & treatments available. He went so far as to give me his e-mail address so I can let him know how things are going. How cool is that?

Here's a snippet of our conversation About the bike mileage:

Me: So what about biking? I'd hate to rest a week, and ride hard on a week off. I'd like to get in 150 to 180 miles for the next two weeks.

Dr. T: (surprisingly shocked) Total for the two weeks?

Me: Ummm...

Dr. T: You don't need to do that. I'm doing sixty this week and forty the week following.

Me: So I guess I'll take it easy then.

T-Minus 33 Days.

Saturday started with a big blow to the gut. I've been very careful about my training and not over extending myself and wearing me down. Something must have caugt up with me, because I think tendonitis has developed in my left knee. Oddly enough, it's only when I bike and not run. Everything I read talks about this as a running injury. (Jumper's Knee?) As a result, I didn't go on my 112-mile bike ride on Saturday. It was very defeating to come home after a few minutes, bike fully stocked of Gatorade, GU, fig bars, and water without breaking a sweat. I fully sulked in bed the rest of the morning, icing my knee a couple of times and delaying getting ready until the last minute.

I was buoyed by the fact that it doesn't hurt to run, and therefore was on schedule for my long run Sunday. It was hot, and I was coming from Chicago in the morning, so that meant a late afternoon start. Good because it mimics what time I will be running; bad because it's so damn hot. Without Kris to sherpa water & Gatorade for me, I needed a plan. I stuffed money into my fully stocked fuel belt with three Gatorades (left over from Saturday) and a water, three GUs, and some endurolyte caps. Along the way I stopped at Walgreens on State Street, and Open Pantry on University, both of which happened to be perfectly situated for refilling my water bottles. I also was testing out my new plan for running: intervals of fifteen minutes of running, with five minutes walking. Everything worked out very well. I was quite pleased, finishing one loop of the course in 2:16:30.

A happy moment came near the end of the run. I was dragging, pushing myself to the imaginary finish line that matches the real one in September. I run past Fire Station No. 1. Out front, one of Madison's finest was sitting on a chair, cuddling with a new born baby, while his wife sat next to him. As I looked over, he looked up, beaming with pride as his daughter fidgeted happily in his lap. Made me feel good, too.

T-Minus 38 anxious days...

I'm still dealing with the darkness of the morning at 5 AM. Actually it was more like 5:30 before I got up. (Snooze is a very powerful button.) It was still dark. The thick air was damp from the overnight rain. Sidewalks and roadways were damp and puddles lingered in the humid air. Immediately I was sweating. Within the first few miles the shirt was soaked and clinging to my body like a wet t-shirt contest, except I wasn't going to win.

On the Lakeshore path leading to the Union Terrace, I passed an obviously anorexic woman. She was laboring on her walk, carrying bags that dwarfed her already miniscule frame. I probably stared a bit too long as I passed. My mind was centered on how she would react if I asked her to seek help. Would I contribute to her disease being a stranger and saying she has a problem? Does she realize she is sick? Would it shock her enough into seeking treatment if a passing stranger suggested that doing so would help? I couldn't get it out of my head all day. My hope is that she does have a support system that does care about her and wants her to get better. I know from what I've done this past year that only she can make the change. No one can do it for her. I can't help. And that's what makes it so difficult to see.

The day ended perfectly celebrating Kris' birthday at Restaurant Magnus. A table for two outside in the perfect summer night was reserved just for us. She had the Calamari Steak, and I had the Diablo Steak. Both were quite tasty, filled with adventurous flavor. We topped those off with Key Lime Pie (her) and homemade Strawberry Ice Cream (me). According to their website, it's impossible to eat a dinner "without eating organic or locally grown food." According to me, it is impossible to eat dinner "without enjoying their food immensely."

The city was still as I walked to Law Park. Some state employees were mindlessly arriving at work, getting there early in order to get out even earlier. Deliveries were being made, and I had my wetsuit slung over my shoulders as I walked along in my sandals and tri-specific racing shorts. I wore nothing else but my goggles on my forehead. It was serene. I rode the elevator down with a couple looking to get to the lake, curious about my attire. I found three others preparing to swim, doing their imitation of an inchworm putting their wetsuits on. I ventured up, made small talk, and got to swimming. Before I dove in, the same red orb was just shining through the thin clouds as it arced skyward. It made it that more rewarding.

The swim was uneventful; relaxing and challenging at the same time. It felt nice to get rid of the black line on the bottom, but the semi-green expanse isn't too exciting for the eyes, either. I didn't see nary a fish swim by, though sometimes I think I do. Toward the end, my left elbow flashed some pains, but nothing to worry about.

The bike & run brick planned for this evening started and ended on a different note. The sky had clouded over, and every other cloud seemed to leak some rain. Not enough to connect the dots, but enough to dampen the spirits. Immediately, I noticed that my left knee gave some feedback on the downward portion of my pedaling motion. Thinking it wasn't warmed up, I continued until it was too much. At that point, I was a half-hour away, and cover the same distance to return home. I scratched the run, and elected to ice and elevate and rest for the big ride planned for Saturday. No other activity reproduces the same pain. Troublesome, but at this point, I'm not too worried.

Mentally, I'm still enjoying things. Rather than be excited that I didn't have to work hard tonight, I felt downtrodden that I had to pack it in. I still feel confident in my ability to finish, and even worked up a back up plan for finishing the marathon with a respectable time. T-Minus 38 days and counting.

As I alluded to in last week's summary, I am at the beginning of the end of my training. For me and for you, I hope to document my last weeks of training, and include all the range of emotions as I prep for The Big Day. I don't think they'll all be this long, though. All will be categorized under "T-Minus."

Today was exactly 40 days before September 11. It also started three weeks of lots of time swimming, biking and running. I hope to average about 15 hours each week working out. Two emphasizing the bike, one on the run. Swimming will occur in Lake Monona, getting used to long, continuous swims, the lake and my wetsuit. I woke up this morning at 5 AM to darkness. Just a month ago, the sun had been up for nearly 20 minutes. Now, it hadn't broken the horizon. As a result, I was treated to a giant orange glow about twenty minutes into my ride.

When I started, mid-week rides pushed 45 minutes and went around Lake Monona. Soon, I needed a longer ride, and I pushed it to an hour around the Capitol City Trail. Lately, I've pushed it even more, and now I close in on two hours a ride, following the Ironman bike course to the loop portion that starts in Verona. I call it the Ironlink. On the Ironlink, there's one hill that takes some effort. At the crest, there's a mailbox post made from PVC pipe, connected and painted to green to represent a cactus. As such, I've name the hill "Cactus Hill." Every time I reach the top of Cactus Hill, I wish that I had a camera to capture the view. In it, quintessential Wisconsin is captured. Green rolling hills, large farms, and bypasses around small cities. Today it held up to the expectations, with patches of morning fog trapped in the valleys swallowing up the farms in the nooks and crannies of the driftless hills.

The run tonight wasn't so serene. In an effort to stay cool and get errands done, I quick ran to Qdoba and got dinner. In a sincere lack of judgment, I ordered a burrito and swallowed it whole. I then got the errands done and made it home to get ready to run. Unfortunately, the burrito hadn't settled, nor did the weather. It was still near 90°F and sticky. The tummy wasn't too happy with my speed, so I made do and was out when the sun set.

So that marks t-minus 40 days. Up and down with the sun.