The two highlights of my travel to Michigan happen to coincide with my very arrival at Chicago’s Midway airport. First, I bumped into Karen Smyers, who is one of the coolest triathletes on the circuit. She’s got great stories, and is not afraid to chew the fat as much as I tend to do! Next up on my highlight reel was that my newly formed “twosome” demanded that we rent the Ford Flex, a car I thoroughly enjoying driving. Boom: travel was easy-breezy.

I took a little dip in Lake Michigan on Thursday night, and with the warm and choppy swim gained confirmation that we would not be having a wetsuit swim on Saturday. Post-swim, Mark and Julie treated me to a healthy dose of Italian food, in honor of what happened to be National Lasagna Day. (Highlight #3?)

Race day greeted us with a few gnarly thunderstorms passing their way across Lake Michigan. The water was calm as it could be, but the skies were angry. Mark and I spent a bit too much time analyzing the radar, and we consequently proved that we learned very little from the Meteorology courses we both happened to take in college. Despite our thoughtful predictions, there was no rain/ lightning delay in store for us. (This is only worth mentioning in an effort to foreshadow my untimely arrival to the swim start.)

Rather than sit around in the pouring rain and face the (imminent delay!), I opted for a later departure than originally planned. I arrived at the race site about half an hour after I had planned to do. (Not liking where this is going.)

Leaving transition, I was hopeful that the warm-up jog en route to the swim start would be quick and painless. I had just enough time to cover the mile+ at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, I made a wrong turn or two, and somehow I ended up back on the beach with way too much running still in front of me. I finally made my way to the start, where I proceeded to struggle to get my wet and sandy body into my blueseventy PZ3: not an easy task. The only true casualty here was that I gave myself zero opportunity to warm up, and even less of a chance to find a good starting position on the line. With two strikes like that against me, I stood little chance of showcasing what I believe to be a vastly improved swim game.

Exiting the water, I faced a substantial gap to the leading few. It turned out that there were quite a few cyclists up the road, and with quite a nice gap. I was unsure of how my body would respond to the truly high-end effort I would need to put out, but when Eric Bean passed me about five minutes into the ride, I decided it was time to find out. He set a nice tempo for a couple miles, and I allowed myself the luxury of following his lead as we gunned down the first chase group. Passing the group of four or so, I took the reigns, and urged Eric to drop the hammer with me so we could dispatch the now followers we had picked up.

After a few miles, we managed to spit out a few of the hangers-on, but still had a bit more company than I would have liked. I found myself on the front again, pushing a solid pace to try to break the group apart. I realize it’s probably smarter to stay at a steady effort, to ride with the established bunch, and to steadily pick away at the ride. I also realize this would have probably suited my run legs a bit better. However, my goal was not to sit in; my goal was to catch the leading group of five.

Several miles later, I made a break on the group, and managed to put a gap between us. I could finally see the leaders – when on long stretches of road – and my confidence was climbing. I knew I just needed to make a bit of contact with the leaders before the closing miles of the bike.

With a few miles to go, after not gaining any more time to the leaders, Eric closed up the gap again. We entered transition together, and left for the run in fourth and fifth place. (The front group lost two athletes: one to a puncture, and one to a penalty.)

I immediately found my stride, so I set out to chase down the leading trio. My effort felt strong, and my pace felt quick. I was absolutely certain my mile splits were going to reflect the solid effort I was putting out. As I glanced to my watch, I was sure there would be a string of 5:40 miles. Shockingly, my perceived pace was no nearly close enough to my actual pace. I was seeing way too many 5:50 and 6:00 miles. Soon enough they had turned to 6:05 and 6:10 miles, and I had actually picked up the pace. How was that possible? I was running as hard as I could, yet my opening miles on par with the opening miles of an IM marathon. Shocking!

I had been on top of my hydration and nutrition since the very outset, so I knew I was not bonking. I could only conclude that my hot pace on the bike had taken away the speed from my run legs. In other words: I had ridden too hard! Crap. Readjust the mindset, and keep on plugging – that would be my plan. I kept on plugging, and despite the loaded quads (something I was suddenly very aware of), I pushed the pace harder and harder to the finish. Around ten miles in, I was overtaken by a runner who relegated me to fifth. Residing in the last money spot is an uncomfortable yet motivating place to be. I could feel – hear, sense, see, smell – the sixth place man coming, so I dug a bit deeper, and grunted a bit louder. I don’t think the final miles were very pretty, but fortunately, I was racing for fifth rather than the ever-elusive style points.

I crossed the line a minute or two under four hours, sore, happy, and satisfied. And thanks to my good friends at Boulder County Communications, I crossed the line to my favorite Aerosmith/ Run-DMC song, thank you very much. (I hope these guys are working in Kona!)

Looking back at the race, I am quite pleased with the result. I entered the race with a few performance goals in mind. I managed to realize a few of them, while I came up short on a few more. I got a huge boost to the fitness – one that can only come from a race-day effort. And along the way, I got to have a lot of laughs with Mark, Julie, and Karen, as well as many others here and there. However, with the athlete’s critical eye, I can also clearly see that a few key mistakes on my part may have cost me a bit more overall success. Living and learning is the name of the game, even at this stage of the match!

Showing up in Coeur d’Alene for an Ironman at the end of June has become very familiar territory for me. I know when to travel, where to stay, how to spend my final days of preparation: everything. It’s as much of a home course race for me as any Ironman could be, and for that – and many other reasons – CdA is my favorite Ironman outside of Kona.

I’ve learned the course inside and out, and I’ve tackled the race with just about every strategic swim-bike-run combination. I’ve swum fast; I’ve swum terribly slow; I’ve set bike course records; I’ve blown sky high at mile 50; I’ve run my marathon PR; and I’ve been forced to a staggering walk, only to rebound to a strong finish. I’ve seen a few highs and a few lows, and they periodically come within the same race.

This year, however, was a unique race for me. I planned my 2010 season around an early Ironman in St. George. My training was spot-on from February 1 to April 1. My strength was building day-to-day, and my confidence was rising equally well. I was on the path to confidently crush the inaugural Utah course. And then I got injured.

Every dark cloud has a sliver lining, and in the case of this setback, my bright side was the addition of CdA to the schedule. And the change in schedules gave me loads of comfort. However, the down side – as is always the case with injuries – was time off in a key training block.

My rationale for mentioning this rocky start to my race season is that I hope to express how very pleased I am – more than I normally would be, even – to be back in the mix at such a competitive Ironman. I truly feel that finishing third on Sunday was every bit a victory for me, and one that I am very proud to have notched.

Facing Lake Coeur d’Alene at 6:10AM, swinging the arms, watching the sun come up, I had a sense of excited calm come over me. I knew that I was ready to race, and I was fired up to do so, yet I knew I needed to keep control over my emotions for the next several hours. I tried not to get too amped up, and I dove in for a warm-up swim. I made my way back to the beach to join my fellow competitors at 6:22. We gathered at the water’s edge, and I found myself sandwiched between Luke Bell and Tom Evans: two guys who normally put two to four minutes on me in a 2.4-mile swim. Heck, Evans has gapped me by over six minutes before. Tom joked about sitting on my feet, and I joked about sitting on his. Neither seemed a likely outcome.

52 minutes later, I exited the water feeling fresh and comfortable. I had managed to take control of what seemed to be a low-effort swim, yet somehow I touched ground in front of Evans and Bell. Either my swimming has found its way back to a high level, or Tom and Luke felt sorry for me and gave me the gift of an early confidence boost.

Luke and I got onto the bikes first, with a staggering six-minute deficit to Andy Potts. How on Earth did he get that much time on us?! We lead the chase out to the first turnaround, but did so cautiously, hoping that Potts’ inexperience at the Ironman distance would force him to ride way too hard. We were the veterans, and we were intent to pace this challenging bike course appropriately. The gamble was on: who knew the best way to get to T2?

At about mile 8, I took position at the front of the pack. Realizing that Luke was not going to launch an early attack on the lead, I settled into the train-conductor’s position of our little pack of six. Not too much later, Courtney Ogden and Matty White of Australia both came barreling past our group. Grabbing firmly a hold of my emotions and competitive drive, I did what came quite unnaturally to me: I watched them ride away. My plan was to evenly pace this ride, and it became clear that Bell, Evans, and the others had the same plan.

By mile 25, we were all caught up by a hard charging Chris “Big Sexy” McDonald and Matt Lieto. Seeing their gaps at the early turnaround, I knew they had put forth a good effort to catch us by that point. It was nice to have their company, as each of them took willing turns at the front of our chase pack. Later in the first lap, most everyone seemed content to leave me in the pacesetter’s role. I admit that I was more comfortable in front as well, knowing that control over my effort was more firmly in my own hands.

Finishing loop one, and heading out to tackle the hills again, I felt that my race was going exactly according to plan. I did not feel that I had done any hard riding yet, and with the challenging back half of the bike ride ahead of me, I was very eager to drop the hammer. Nearing the 75-mile mark, a noticeable change in pace – and effort – struck me hard. I pushed the pedals, but they stopped wanting to move the bike forward. My speed dropped, my watts dropped, and my spirit followed suit. Lieto took charge at the front, and Bell followed suit. Additionally, Big Sexy and Evans seemed to sniff weakness, so they took off in pursuit of Matt and Luke. They happily left me for dead.

I came to terms with what was happening, and I dealt with the problem the best I could: calories, calories, calories. Covering the next eight or nine miles was a bit challenging: I briefly started to feel sorry for myself, but then the chocolate boost kicked in, followed closely by a steady dose of Pre Race and EFS. My mental game was back, and the legs were coming around as well.

Mile 85 came, and some anger arrived with it. I felt used and abused by the others, but the tables were turning. Heading into mile 90, I had a head full of steam, and I was determined to return to my pre-race plan of pushing hard to the finish. The headwinds helped me get going, and the sight of Evans, McDonald and Lieto fueled my charge. I tried to pass by them without so much as a glance or a how-do-you-do? I tried to break the elastic before it had a chance to take hold, but these guys were strong and they were every bit as determined as I was. Our train now included Courtney Ogden, who must have lost contact with his early riding buddies.

We came back to town, facing a six minute deficit to Luke Bell (who had absolutely crushed the final 35 miles!), and about ten to Andy (who was clearly executing a smart and strong race). Out onto the run, I felt incredible. My bike pacing plan had paid off, or so it seemed, and I was easily able to transition to my running legs.

Within the first mile, I found myself in a comfortable rhythm. I was in fourth place, and the day seemed to be going exactly according to plan. Looking back at my mile splits after the fact, I may have taken out that first half marathon a bit too hot. It felt comfortable, but I don’t believe I respected the toll it was taking on my legs.

I have always felt that one of my greatest assets in Ironman racing is my back-end marathon strength. I love the mental aspect of that portion of the race, and the physical part is normally pretty solid for me. However, this time around, I found myself in uncharted territory. I had not done nearly as much run training in the weeks leading into the race as I normally would do, and I felt that my legs might have been a bit soft and underprepared. Nonetheless, I knew my mental game would still be there to help me through.

At mile 14 I managed to take a firm grasp on second place. I was not making up too much time on Potts anymore, but I was holding steady in my position. I kept plugging away, knowing the meat of the marathon was still in front of me. Luke and Courtney were both running strong enough behind me that I had ample reason to keep an honest effort going.

By mile 18, things started to get a little shaky. My mind was prepared for the muscular pains that come deep into the game; however, I was not anticipating the total breakdown I was about to experience. Fairly abruptly, every part of my body from the belly button down began to ache: joints, muscles, tendons, bones, everything. I was hurting in a very new manner. And I was in trouble!

Within the ensuing two miles, I tried every mental and nutritional trick I could think of to push through the discomfort. I knew I could do it, but my knees had a different plan. My knees? Am I that guy who complains about his knees?! The line from a famous commencement speech rattled in my brain: “Be kind to you knees; you’ll miss them when they’re gone.” I missed them already. Get me to the finish, ASAP.

Mile 20 in CdA treats you to a nice, little up hill (not so bad), and the complementary down hill (very bad). Courtney rolled by me just as I hoisted the white flag. Darn it. Courtney was racing such a bloody consistent marathon, and he glided by with exactly the poise I hoped to have in my final 10k. Well done, my friend.

I wobbled down the hill, chugged through a couple more miles, then somehow found a new rhythm of running. My paces did not tick back down to where I wanted it, but I did manage to do what I no longer considered shuffling for the final 3 miles of the day. Running scared is never fun, but I did my best to enjoy myself, while periodically peeking over my shoulder for what I feared would be Luke’s return.

Cresting the final hill, and making the final turn, I made my way down Sherman Avenue, which is quickly becoming one of triathlon’s greatest finish straights. I grabbed an American flag from my kind home stay, Ann; and I galloped to the carpet, where – who wouldn’t? – I cut a quick rug.

Nearly duplicating my finish time from at least two of my past CdA races, I proved that I am nothing if not consistent. I soaked in some incredible crowd energy, and I congratulated the deserving champion on his well executed race. And I hobbled myself over to a chair.

Three days after the race, I’m finally able to move about in a normal fashion. The swelling is gone, or nearly gone, and the temporary tattoos and body markings are all but a tan-lined memory. I am reflecting on my finish, and more appropriately, the path I took to get there. I went to Coeur d’Alene to bring home another Ironman title and a Kona slot; however, I also went there to get myself back in the game, after a rocky start to the season. Obviously I did not accomplish all of the goals, but as far as far as I’m concerned, I realized the most important one: I’m back!

After two races in March, both of which ended with sub-par results, I found myself facing an injury – the first I have suffered in my pro career. In April, I tended to the injury – a sacroiliac joint problem resulting from misplaced bike cleats – and resumed training with new goals and a new focus.

My first race back after the injury was to be Revolution 3’s main event at Quassy in Middlebury, CT: a half distance triathlon over one of the toughest courses around, with some of the toughest competition around. Never one to skirt the issue, I figured the best way to test myself was to race the best guys on the best course. As expected, Rev 3 did not disappoint.

Rev 3 is staged at an amusement park, which is great fun for those athletes who wish to entertain their families while they are out entertaining themselves over an extremely challenging course. Amanda and I were both a touch apprehensive returning to this race, with vastly different preparation than we had last year. With her just returning to the races after overcoming a bout of overtraining, her confidence did not fly as high as it did last year when she notched a solid fifth place finish. With my training being geared toward Ironman Coeur d’Alene in three weeks’ time, I knew my high end speed would not be quite as stout as it was last year, when my early season focus was set purely on the 70.3 distance. Nonetheless, we were both very drawn by the challenge we faced.

Race day dawned without the predicted rainfall, but with a heavy dose of humidity in its place. 95% was the reading we saw on WeatherBug, and it felt every bit that high, as we loaded ourselves – and our friend Richie – into our super cool rental car. We showed up quite early for the race, and were rewarded with ample time to set up our transition and to warm up.

My swim started very well, as I found myself sitting a few spots back of the leaders. Knowing that it would be a challenge to hold the feet of the very frontrunners, I settled in a few rows back. As we neared the first turn (at approximately 600 meters), I knew things were about to get interesting. The buoys lend opportunity for surges and shuffles and breaks and collisions. They are were the boys are separated from the men. And that first turn buoy was were the men flutter kicked out of sight, and I found myself heading up the pack of boys in chase.

I don’t blame Viktor for causing the split, but it was totally his fault. (Maybe that means I do blame him?)

Rounding turn number two, I took charge of my posse, and pulled our solid group to shore. Somehow – perhaps it was because I lead the swim charge – I got left behind in transition. My bluseventy PZ3 did not want to come off, and my helmet did not want to go on. I can only attribute my slow transition to being a touch rusty with the lack of spring racing in my body. Either way, my swim cohorts were gone.

I jumped on board my Airfoil and set about to reeling in my old crew. My cycling has felt very strong in training, and with my new found use of a Power Tap I now know a touch more about pacing more appropriately. My goal was to negative split the ride, knowing it would really help me tackle the run hills later. As I zoomed through the opening miles, I quickly came to the conclusion that the only thing cooler than the whoosh-whoosh sound of a disc wheel is the wicked air-slicing moan of a Zipp 1080 front wheel. Damn.

The first 24.8 miles went by quite smoothly. There were sections of drizzle, there were sections of wet road, but for the most part, it was quite a pleasant ride. I was gradually bringing back some of the guys up the road, when I heard the ill-fated noise we all hate to hear: pssssss. There you are. No longer would I hear the whoosh-whoosh or the moan. I was on the side of the road with a Pit Stop in my hands. Lucky for me, tech support showed up almost immediately after I stopped. They watched me shoot in the Pit Stop, and they watched at it deflated faster than seemed naturally possible. I guess the hole was too big to be sealed.

Plan B was to swap wheels – no more whoosh-whoosh – which we executed fairly quickly. Soon enough I was climbing back up the long hill in pursuit of the others. (In training we wait for one another when we flat. I’m just pointing that out.)

Ten miles down the road, after I had gotten accustomed to my silent rear wheel, tech support showed up again. This time they waved me over and asked me if I wanted to replace the wheel again. And in a split-second decision, I stopped. Not too smart. As great as Zipp wheels are, I tend to think that forward progress will still tend to outweigh the aero advantages they offer on the side of the road. Correct me if I’m wrong, as I know these things are amazing, but standing still for too long just doesn’t seem to be wise, when compared to the alternative. Next time I have a functioning wheel, please remind me to keep pedaling.

Finishing up the bike ride – after one more stop to reopen my brakes! – I found myself well, well removed from contention. I did my best to shake a mental leg and move, but the motivation was lagging a bit. I pushed as hard as I could to finish, knowing there was still a half marathon awaiting me.

It was quite a relief to be off the bike, which is something I rarely find myself saying. I was out on the run course in record time: too bad this transition time doesn’t really matter anymore!

My first two miles were easy and comfortable. I had nobody to race, so the pain and discomfort that sometimes accompanies the opening miles were absent. I have to admit that I struggled for a couple miles to find the reason to push myself. I was going to finish, of course, but did I have to run hard? Was the training effect going to be more if I pushed the miles harder? I waffled a bit, and started settling into a comfortable pace, intent to enjoy the beautiful run course.

By the time I reached mile 5, I managed to bump into some motivation. I can’t really say where it came from, but suddenly I decided I needed to race that final 8 miles. A lot can happen in 8 miles, even if I was two miles behind!

My pace went from cruise to push, and my attitude went from fun to compete. I was pleased with the transition, and from that point onward, I really made an effort to catch as many runners as I could. It was really too bad I did not stumble upon the motivation a bit sooner, because by the time I crossed the finish line in 11th – one spot out of the money – I was just over a minute down from 10th (with only another minute to 9th).

The are many positives that come from finishing a race on a high note, which is exactly what I did. I went to Quassy to test my body after its return from injury, to gain a significant training boost that comes only from racing, to compete against some great athletes, to support a wonderful race production company, and to have a bit of fun along the way. Sure, it would have been nice to mix it up with that front bunch of contenders, but I’m pretty sure they will all be around this summer and fall, when the other races present themselves.

As for the positives that came from the race, like I said, there are many. One at the top of the list was this little reward that I found waiting for me at Friendly’s post-race. And I got to share it with my sweetheart.

Despite my ample breadth of experience as a pro triathlete, I find myself facing a brand new challenge this week. The challenge today is coming to terms with the fact that I will not be toeing the line at Saturday’s inaugural Ironman St. George. While I officially withdrew from the race ten days ago, it has been hard for me to come right out of the blue and say it: “I won’t be racing St. George.” But today is the day I want to share with those who have been so kindly supporting me that I have changed directions.

To some this may not seem like much of a challenge: On a weekly basis, athletes change race plans and race schedules and race goals. Some athletes change their race plans within the very race. And others see no issue or difficulty in jumping ship from one planned event to another. But for me – after making it more than one decade without backing out of a commitment – I am forced to make a significant change of plans.

Sparing the details for another post, I will sum things up by saying that I suffered a setback in my training, and I have yet to regain 100% strength. One thing that I have told myself year after year is that I will never start an Ironman – or any other triathlon – without being 100% ready to race. I have seen too many athletes enter races with niggles or injuries or small aches and pains. Additionally, I know very well how capable the Ironman distance is of picking apart an athlete, and exposing his every weakness or flaw. I have promised myself that without being 100% healthy to tackle the challenges of the day, I would not put myself out there.

I am very disappointed to be missing this event, as I had been very drawn to the challenging race, the fairness of the course, and the beauty of Southwestern Utah. My fondness for inaugural events, my connection with others of the athletes tacking IMSTG, and my desire to really knock one out of the park will definitely make it hard to miss Saturday’s race. However, I’ll be with you all in spirit.

My best to all of you on race day; make the most of the challenge; and, without a doubt, go out there and get race that thing for those who cannot be there with you!

And I’ll see you all in Coeur d’Alene…

Many of you have probably heard about this already; in fact, many of you have tweeted about it already. For those of you who have not – and for those of you who do not believe it – the rumors are now confirmed: Team Trakkers has challenged the Trek/Kswiss team to a duel at Rev 3 Knoxville.  And they have stepped up and accepted our dare!

2010 is shaping up to be the year of the team in the sport of triathlon, and Team Trakkers will not be outdone.  While gathering for our Pro Team launch this past weekend in Austin, Texas, our competitive spirits – and the Shiner Bock – got the best of us, and we threw down the Five-Thousand-Dollar Challenge.

Our beer-and-pizza happy hour on Friday night served multiple purposes: we were there to meet one another; we were there to meet with our sponsors; we were there to talk about the season; we were there to meet the public; and, of course, we were there to have some fun.

Somewhere along the way, we got caught up in a little trash talk, and while managing to accomplish all of the above, we also got ourselves signed up for a bit of a schoolyard brawl on May 9^th.

But before any of these antics got underway, Dede Griesbauer, Richie Cunningham, Brian Fleischmann, Amanda Lovato, Jacqui Gordon, Carole Sharpless, and I all went through the rigors of a full-blown Liz Kreutz photo session.  Kreutz – the photographer who chronicled Lance Armstrong’s Comeback 2.0 last year – directed and managed our shoot, while making sure that each and every one of us had top-quality images for our websites and our Trakkers promos.  Liz is a true professional, and being the subject of her photos is a fun and smoothly run experience.

No team camp would be complete without a few training sessions, and for good measure, we were sure to throw in a few swim, bike, runs. Friday morning got under way with a nice dip in 68-degree spring fed Barton Springs Pool.  Even with the upcoming races for three of our teammates, the tone of the workout was lighthearted.  We rewarded ourselves with a post-swim coffee and breakfast over at Austin Java Co., one of the locals’ favorite spots.

The next morning, we donned our green kits once again to lead a group ride through the hills of Austin. Each team member, and a few lucky extras, got to test out the Trakkers devices, which meant proving to everyone who watched the playback just how fast (or slow!) we rode the course.  Everyone agreed that Trakkers is going to change the way we view our sport—big time!

Saturday afternoon gave us the opportunity to slow it down a bit, and to showcase our generous Team Sponsors: Saucony, First Endurance and Kestrel.  At our Expo, Carrie Bartlett showed off the 2010 Saucony line, while allowing folks to test out the shoes; Robert Kunz handed out samples of EFS and Ultragen, while answering anyone’s nutrition-related questions; and four fully decked Kestrel Airfoils were on display for all to see.

As the expo closed out, our team gathered for one more group session: a short run around Town Lake.  Testing out our new green race kits, we jogged about, while Jay Prasuhn of Lava Magazine willingly followed behind with his camera.  Naturally our conversation turned back to the challenge we had laid out before us.

Challenges are what triathlon is all about.  Sometimes it’s a challenge to finish a tough day; sometimes it’s a challenge to beat your neighbor; and sometimes it’s the challenge of setting a new PR.  But in almost all cases, those challenges are all worthwhile because of the people we get to share them with. And in this particular case, Trakkers Pro Team is excited to share a season of challenges with one another, with our Amateur Team, and with all of our supporters and sponsors.  And we really look forward to kicking the pants off the Trek/ KSwiss team next month!

Challenge Rules:

Two Teams compete.

Top two men finishers count; top one female counts (per team).

Cross Country scoring: overall place counted as points, lowest point total wins.

Winning team gets $5000 from Trakkers, to be spilt amongst team members competing.

Friday April 9

8:30 AM Group Swim at Barton Springs – Knock the dust off your wetsuit and come take a swim with some of the best in the sport. (Meet at Barton Springs, bring cash for entry!)

6:00-8:00PM, Happy hour for ALL to attend – Come meet the Trakkers Pro Team, drink beer, eat catered food, kick back and listen to some live music! (Meet at J & A’s.)

Pro Team includes Michael Lovato, Amanda Lovato, Richie Cunningham, Dede Griesbauer, Brian Fleischmann, Mary Beth Ellis, Jacqui Gordon, and Carole Sharpless.

Saturday April 10

8:30 AM Group ride from J & A’s – 30 Mile Hilly Loop, presented by First Endurance ANYONE welcome – Free First Endurance product provided pre- and post-ride.
First Endurance nutrition talk immediately following the ride: learn the ins and outs of fueling and recovery. Breakfast tacos & coffee compliments of First Endurance.

12:00 PM- 4:00 PM – Trakkers Pro Team & Jack & Adam’s Season Kick-Off

Catered food from Whole Foods – fruit, sandwiches, and more, compliments of Team Trakkers and J & A’s.

Trakkers device test run and demo set to view at J & A’s.
High Five Events, Rev 3 Events, Trakkers, Saucony, First Endurance, and more will be on site with product samples and displays.

Lots of Free stuff to be given away!

4:30 PM Group Run from J & A’s – Take a jog around Town Lake. 4 and 7 mile loops available. – Pros split off for photos on Auditorium Shores

Sunday April 11

8:00AM Optional Capitol 10,000 event.
8:00AM -12:00PM Pro athletes receive Retul Bike Fits with Zane Castro
12:00: Trakkers product talk and wrap-up.

So far 2010 has been an outstanding year.  My beautiful and talented wife started out the season with a victory at one of the coolest races on the planet: Pucon 70.3; we have settled back into our spring and winter life down here in Austin, Texas – and our friends have embraced our return; and the training has been going very well for both of us.   On top of that, we have partnered up with a few new sponsors this year, and I can absolutely say that we have the best support in the industry.  The products and companies we are working with are the best; and the relationships we have been able to form are truly amazing.  We are very pleased to be working with each one of these folks!

And last, but not least, we have formed an incredible team of athletes this year: Team Trakkers.  Together with Saucony, Kestrel and First Endurance, Trakkers has assembled a group of pros who will be contending for wins and podiums at every distance from Ironman down to Olympic and sprint.  Our age groupers (36 of them!) are fast, insightful, inspiring, fun, dedicated, and committed to our sport.  We are a fun bunch, and we plan to demonstrate that Triathlon can thrive with top quality support of the professional athletes, as well as a true dedication to the inspirational stories of our amateur athletes.

Stay tuned to this blog, to twitter, and to all of your favorite industry websites for updates on how our Trakkers Team is bringing it in 2010!

And don’t worry, I won’t let another four months go by…

For just a minute, think what it might be like to sign up for a 10K road race knowing you were going to have to run it with a long tube threaded up your nose, down your throat, and into your stomach. (Yes, a tube reaching from the nostril to the stomach.) Then, just for kicks, imagine doing the race with your spouse tethered to you via that very “nose leash,” running alongside you for the entire event: stride for stride, occasionally bumping you, and only inches away. And if you are really imaginative, pretend that you are doing this on Halloween day, and that everyone who sees you with the medical tape splashed across your face, tube in nose, and large contraption attached to you tells you that you have a really great costume. If you are anything like me, you are thinking that this is ridiculous, and that there is pretty much no chance in hell you are going to try it. If you are Amanda, you sign up willingly, all in the name of science.

Yesterday, while I was running alongside Amanda at the Eerie Erie 10K outside of Boulder, I had a lot of time to think about how tough my wife is. I was imagining how painful it must be to run pretty well flat out with a tube in the throat. A tube in the throat. It’s one thing to have the damn probe going up the nose, but when oxygen is at a premium, like when you’re running a hard 10k, over hills, at altitude, breathing is kind of important. It’s not that the tube went down her trachea, but it’s only just next door. Breathing hard is a challenging enough task, but try doing it with an unwanted intruder in your throat.

It’s not that I am seeing my wife’s toughness for the first time; it’s quite the contrary, in fact. I have watched her steely gaze hone in on a prey, chase it down, and fight to be the first across the line. I have watched her face a winning day with the exact same grace she possesses on a losing day. I have watched her walk more than her fair share of Ironman marathons. Post-race, I have watched her remove bloody shoes from her bloody feet without so much as a flinch. And I have seen her sit through a flu that nearly killed me, without uttering a single solitary complaint. On top of that I have seen her suffer through some incredibly challenging workouts; I have seen her sweat, bleed, cough, snot, and occasionally fart her way through a nasty treadmill session, all the while unintentionally scaring off her health club neighbors with her grunts. On one particularly impressive occasion, she actually sat through a family barbeque, trudged through a four-hour bike ride, and endeavored to get in a swim workout, all while suffering from a highly painful appendicitis. She may have half-heartedly attempted to spit out a portion of something resembling a complaint, when she asked me to take her to the doctor’s office to find out why her abdomen was aching so badly. Surgery was her reward for that.

In my ten years of living with, laughing with and loving this woman, I have often marveled at her toughness. She must have been raised right, because she clearly learned long ago that complaining does not get her anywhere in this world. What has always worked for her is figuring out the path to take, and then being tough enough to get the job done, no matter the task at hand.

But let’s turn back to the probe.

Yesterday’s test was ordered by her team of GI docs. Yes, the same GI docs who managed to talk her into jamming an even thicker probe up her nose and down her throat a few weeks ago to see if her esophagus had good motility. While they fed her applesauce and saline (delicious), they monitored how efficiently or inefficiently her esophagus moves food down to her stomach. After telling her this would not hurt, the docs accidentally jammed the tube into Amanda’s trachea. (It turns out threading a probe down the throat is a lot like running internally routed cables inside a bike frame that has no guides: it’s blind luck!) And after cutting off her air supply for a brief moment, the docs backed out the probe and tried again. I think I took this worse than Amanda did, and I was comfortably seated across from her in the waiting chair. While this was very traumatic to Amanda, she sat calmly through the entire procedure, anxious to find a solution to the problems that have been plaguing her.

But again, let’s return to yesterday’s probe.

Amanda has been experiencing some troublesome GI-related problems in her racing. They are not the lower-GI type of problems that send us to the porto-potty; but rather they are the type that affect her upper GI (from mouth to stomach). She has finally gotten to the point where her conservative GI doc has offered one more test before clearing her for a potential surgical fix. That final test is what lead to the tube in throat trick.

The idea was that Amanda would race with a device that could measure the pH of her reflux. This would determine if the hiatal hernia was, in fact, the cause of her woes; or if we’d been barking up the wrong tree. Our very helpful team of docs devised a plan to test her symptoms while in a race setting, thus the probe and its handy (bulky!) recording device. After a warm-up jog with the hefty and awkward measuring device strapped under her arm, Amanda and I decided to see if I could carry the contraption for her. It would be just like running with Luna on a leash; I only need one arm to run, right? We figured out that I could stay close enough to Amanda that I would not impede her progress, and she’d be able to push herself to the desired intensity, with the added benefit of using both arms.

We covered the opening mile in 5:35.

I did my best not to nudge her; I did my best not to yank the probe out of her nose. I did my best to keep from tripping and taking her down. She just did her best to run a race; and she did so with her characteristic steely gaze, with labored breathing, and with the determination and the toughness that epitomize Amanda.

After 6.2 miles, Amanda crossed the finish line as the first female, fifth overall, with a new course record, and with a smile on her face. And a tube up her nose. And for that, amongst many other reasons, I tell you that Amanda is tough as hell.

To look at my finish time from Saturday’s race, the natural assessment would be that something went disastrously wrong: that I belly-flopped on the Big Day; that I somehow managed to mess up my pacing, my strategy, or my nutrition; or that I executed a badly run race.  The finish time was my slowest ever; the marathon was my longest yet; and the drop from 9th place in 2008 to 538th place this year was the farthest I’ve ever fallen.  This was my worst Ironman ever; however, I executed an OK race.   So what went wrong?

My season focus had been squarely set on this race.  There was no doubt about it: throughout the year everything I aimed for was to help me prepare for my ascent up the ranks in Kona.  My three ninth-place finishes proved to me that I know how to race in Hawaii; but this year was the year I upped the ante.  I was going for the podium.

My race season was strong: I competed frequently, I trained hard, and I recovered well.  I made my way to autumn with a hunger and a freshness I had not had in past years.  My assault on the Hawaii Ironman seemed to go perfectly from February to August.  I was on track and my confidence was sky high.

At the start of September my fitness was better than it had ever been when starting my IM training build. I was faster, fitter, and fresher than I had ever been.  But then I got greedy.  To look back now at the path I followed, and the choices I made, it seems obvious that I was going too far.  However, my plan was to try something new to achieve a new result, so I kept on pushing.  I was on fire in training, and I was getting hotter by the day.  And then I got a bit greedier still.  I wanted more.  Logically, if I could take an even better swim, bike, and run into the biggest race of the year, I would swim, bike and run faster than I ever had.

Midway through September, I hit my first speed bump of the entire 2009 season.  I hit the wall.  I got angry.  I got tired.  I lost my momentum.  So I took a short break to try and rebound.  After the rest, I got back on track and proceeded to follow the track laid out before me.  Mentally, I was right back where I needed to be.

In the days leading into the race, I truly believed I had dodged the bullet.  The concerns and worries I had midway through September (that I had cooked myself too much) were gone from my mind. My taper sessions were spot-on, and I was attending to every detail.  The support I got from Amanda while in Kona was incredible: she did everything possible to ensure that I was ready on race day.  I felt great and I was ready to race.

My track record in the Kona swim is not too good.  As has happened in the past, I was dropped from the group and I exited the water over two minutes down from the main contenders.  But many other top athletes were still close, so I set out to join a good group for the bike ride.  My training this year has allowed me to handle a very hard first hour of riding, with the ability to settle in and recover once I have bridged up.  I have done this multiple times in my 70.3 racing this season, and I was very comfortable with the method.   Within the first eight miles, I did everything I could to ride my way up to a competitive bunch up the road.  With company on the Queen K, the miles go by much more smoothly.   Sadly, my legs did not respond to my efforts.  I pushed the pedals, but they felt squishy and unresponsive.  My initial assessment was that I would come around later in the ride.    I kept after the pace, and I pushed and pushed, disregarding the fact that my effort was not lining up at all with my speed.

At least I had good equipment!

At one point–approximately fifteen miles into the ride–I found myself around  last year’s 4th, 5th, and 6th place finishers. Two of us took control at the front of our mini-group, and we encouraged one another to ride hard enough to bridge the gap.  But I could not shake the feeling that my effort was not at all in line with my pace; I was working way harder than I should have been to see those numbers.  But I put this out of my mind, and I rode as well as I could.  And all along the way, I was tending to an absolutely perfect hydration and nutritional plan.  My consumption was right on; but it did not make my legs feel any better.  Execution has let me down in the past, and I was intent not to let that happen this time around.

Somewhere between Kawaihae and Hawi, I realized I was dragging a long line of guys up the hill.  I figured that was a good sign, even if I was losing ground to the others up the road.  I kept pushing, and I hoped that I’d be strong enough to handle the infamous Hawi winds.  Finally, I did have a brief glimpse of strength as I closed in on the turnaround in Hawi. As I pedaled toward the turn, the seemingly ever-present headwinds in that segment were mild or nonexistent.

Approaching the turn in Hawi, I saw that I was way behind the leaders.  There were also a lot more guys ahead of me than there typically are, which was a testament to the great field we had assembled.  I did what came naturally, which was to shake it off. I knew I could ride that last 50 miles pretty hard, and I’d do my best to keep myself in the game.

On my way back home I started to feel worse and worse about the effort I was having to put into the ride.  I had felt that way once before, in 2004, when I was giving everything I had to ride fast, but nothing was working.  My hydration and nutritional plans seemed to be working, as I was alert, present and peeing.  However, the mental toll the subpar ride was taking on my spirits was hard to ignore.

I managed to suffer through all the sections of the race I normally find extra challenging; however, I was finding it hard to tackle the sections I normally crush.  Right now it is difficult to describe how frustrating this was, but I am well aware that many of you reading have experienced this sensation before.   Some days you have it, and some days you do not.  By my nature, I do not give up, and I continued expecting things would come around.

Finishing the bike ride, I was faced with a larger deficit than normal, but I am fairly comfortable with facing long odds in T2.  I know this race very well, and I know my competitors equally well.  The top step of the podium is won by the athlete who is strongest, smartest, and toughest; whereas many of the other top spots are won by those who win the war of attrition.  I normally hold up pretty well in that regard.   So I started the run with every intention of running my way to the top twenty or beyond.

Early in the run, all signs pointed to another strong marathon.  I was hydrated, I was coherent, and I was freshly motivated.  The splits I received were bad, but undeterred, I was ready to turn things around.  Miles one and two were quick and comfortable.  Mile three was moderate.  But by mile four I found myself facing a challenge I had never had before: mentally I was drained.  Looking back I can now see that I had used nearly every ounce of motivation in me, nearly every mental trick I had, and nearly every race tactic to merely survive the bike ride.  I had drained the pot, and I still had over two hours of running ahead of me.  I looked to my deepest reserves to see if I could race this race with a depleted supply of physical and mental energy.   My initial answer was that yes, I could.

By mile six I realized that I was wrong.  I was running down Ali’i; I was getting incredible support from my friends, my family, and other spectators along the road; but I was dreading the task at hand.  I was empty.

I used the cheers and screams and shouts for another four miles.  I knew they would carry me to the top of Palani.  Crowd support in Kona is unreal.  However, I realized that I could not finish a race on external motivation alone.  And my internal drive was gone.

I crested the hill and turned onto the Queen K.  Ironically, just at the point where I normally begin to reel in the competition and unload a full-fledged attack, I opted to walk and jog my way to the finish.  I was not prepared to give up, but I was finally giving in to the fact that my body and mind did not have what I needed to keep racing, and I would need to cruise my way to the finish.

Shortly thereafter, from the side of the road, Amanda reminded me how much I love this race, and she told me to find the joy and fun in being out there.  It was a great thing to hear, as I suddenly realized that throughout the draining and powerless bike ride, I had not only sapped my mojo, but I had not enjoyed any part of the race (something that is very uncharacteristic of me).  I started the next fifteen miles with the goal of figuring out a way to enjoy my 10th finish in Kona, and finally, after a few miles, I managed to realize that goal.

Looking back at the whole 2009 Kona experience, I can see many errors in my ways.  I can see that I did not really need to change everything to achieve goal to finish top-three.  I can see clearly that I already knew how to prepare for this event, and that rewriting the book was unnecessary.  However, I can also say that I have no regrets about how I approached the year. I changed things up, I raced hard, and I went for it.  Along the way, I had a great season of racing, and I gave it an honest go in Hawaii.  It just so happened that my body needed to race this event on a different day.

And it is safe to say that I will be back next year with sound preparation and a fresh pot of mental energy, and I will have another honest go at the podium.  Without question or doubt, I will be back.

Topic of the blog: Put the same thing in, get the same thing out.

What does that mean?  Well, in this case, it means that I am mixing things up a bit this year, with the plan of mixing things up differently in October.  I have been very happy with my consecutive top-ten finishes in Hawaii; however, my aim is to finish higher.  I have, therefore, changed what I am putting in, so I can change what I am getting out.

This year I chose not to race an Ironman in the spring/ early summer.  I chose to train differently, under the guidance of Cliff English.  And I chose to get faster and more competitive at the 70.3 distance.  And finally, I chose to do a training camp in Kona.

Skipping over the details of my first few choices, I will now jump to my final choice listed here: the camp.  To sum things up, I had an incredibly productive time on the Big Island; I trained long, hard hours alone, and I pushed myself on the race course in a way I not previously done in training.  I feel that the time spent this August will lay a great foundation for my Ironman build next month, as well as for my race in October.

Details and photos found their way to my Twitter account, and various stories and recaps may surface in my now weekly blogs.   Let’s see if I can do it!

We’ve moved my blog over here, and with the relocation I have decided that I’m going to make weekly updates. This is my “new site” resolution. Let’s see if it sticks.

Topic of the blog: Put the same thing in, get the same thing out.

What does that mean? Well, in this case, it means that I am mixing things up a bit this year, with the plan of mixing things up differently in October. I have been very happy with my consecutive top-ten finishes in Hawaii; however, my aim is to finish higher. I have, therefore, changed what I am putting in, so I can change what I am getting out.

This year I chose not to race an Ironman in the spring/ early summer. I chose to train differently, under the guidance of Cliff English. And I chose to get faster and more competitive at the 70.3 distance. And finally, I chose to do a training camp in Kona.

Skipping over the details of my first few choices, I will now jump to my final choice listed here: the camp. To sum things up, I had an incredibly productive time on the Big Island; I trained long, hard hours alone, and I pushed myself on the race course in a way I not previously done in training. I feel that the time spent this August will lay a great foundation for my Ironman build next month, as well as for my race in October.

Details and photos found their way to my Twitter account, and various stories and recaps may surface in my now weekly blogs. Let’s see if I can do it!

Checkout my latest race report from Ironman Rhode Island 70.3 here:

http://www.michaellovato.com/2009-race-results/ironman-703-rhode-island/