Westchester Triathlon

I had a very difficult training week leading up to today’s Westchester Triathlon (WT). Actually, it is hard to say it was difficult, since I hardly did any training at all. I had a slow Active Recovery run on Monday and a mellow bike ride on Tuesday, but on Wednesday I completely fell apart. I started out to run 6 miles, but barely made it a half mile, before I turned around and went home. My legs were slow, dull and achy.

I took off Thursday and Friday. On Saturday I rode 10 miles followed by a 2 mile run just to make sure I still knew how to do both. I felt completely rusty and unprepared for the Westchester Triathlon. Several times during the week, I dreamt that I was walking to the swim start and realized I didn’t have my goggles. As I started back to my car to get them, I also realized that I didn’t have my bike or my sneakers. Leading up to this race, I felt unprepared on both the conscience and subconscious levels.

The WT is the first official Olympic distance triathlon that I have done. My only previous attempt at this distance was the 2003 NYC Triathlon, which was turned into a Duathlon due to polluted water. Since the distance is much shorter than I am accustomed, so I decided to go as fast as I could for the duration of the race.

The swim was a dry start. I found this inconvenient, because it didn’t allow me to piss in the water while waiting for the gun to go off. Since I was already a bit chilly, I decided to pee in my wetsuit despite standing on the beach. The warmth of it being transferred into my legs as it traveled down to my ankles struck me as the ultimate application of the Conservation of Energy Theory.

Other than swimming about 30 yards earlier in the morning, the start of the race would be the first time I swam in over 3 weeks. Fortunately, I remembered how to crawl and felt good once I got underway. I am sure I didn’t swim in the straightest of lines to the turnaround buoy, but it seemed as though I arrived to it soon enough. The turnaround was the furthest point from shore. The water at this location had a substantial amount of chop. This race is a very popular Team in Training race and a lot of first timers do it. When I hit the chop, I could imagine a fair amount of these first timers developing a case of anxiety.

Heading back to shore, it seemed I kept veering off course. Eventually, I got onto someone’s toes and settled into a smooth steady stroke back to the beach. I just started to get into a good rhythm when the swim portion was over. My approximate time in the water for the .9 mile swim was 17:30.

Unfortunately, when I exited the water, I noticed that my HR monitor was no longer picking up my HR. I had to stop and reset my watch, which meant that I would not have a personal measurement for my race duration.

The bike started easy enough and I quickly got up to pace. I maintained a 91% average heart rate throughout the bike and passed many other riders. I think for the entire 24 miles, I may have only been passed by two other athletes. The first twelve miles of the ride saw you ascend several inclines. The second half was a gradual decline back to the Transition area.

During the return to Transition, I spent large portions of time where I didn’t see any other riders. This was disconcerting as I began to think I was heading in the wrong direction. This feeling reached a peak when I saw a rider headed in the opposite direction of me. I thought for sure he was another racer who had to turn around because he went the wrong way. I resisted the urge to slow down or turn around and soon enough I saw some course markings. I finally caught up to another bunch of riders as I got within a mile of transition.

I didn’t know how I would do on the run. I feared that my legs would break down within the first 5K. When I started out my HR was high, but my pace felt slow. I didn’t see the 1 mile marker, so I had no idea how I was doing until mile 2. Surprisingly, I was running sub 8’s and my legs were beginning to settle into a comfortable stride. I survived in good form past the first 3 miles and managed to pick up some speed as I approached mile 4.

It was at this point that I heard someone coming up from behind me. I decided to try to make it difficult for him to pass. He kept pressing, but I kept a step ahead of him. I masked my breathing to make it appear as though I were running effortlessly. In a way that I was running effortless, but my HR was running around 93%. In a longer course, I would have let this person pass me, but I wanted to see how long I could keep him at bay.

After running stride for stride with this fellow Age Grouper for over half a mile, I asked him if we were going to keep this up for the next 2.2 miles. He was game for the competition and we each pushed each other for the next two miles. I wish I could say I out kicked him to the finish, but he got a few steps ahead of me and was able to pull ahead as the race turned onto uneven surface through grass, dirt and gravel.

When the run was over, my watch told me it took 45:12 complete the10k. This was the fastest I’ve run (7:16 pace) in quite some time and gave me hopes that the speed hasn’t completely left my legs. Now I just have to see if I can run this speed for anything over 11 miles. Perhaps I can still have a decent marathon.

For the record, I did the race in 2:14:44 and came in 95th overall.

Possible Return to Health

So I ran approximately 13.3 miles today in 1:44:42. This elapsed time included all water and fuel breaks. Other than those stops, I ran it at a consistent pace. If you take away the 160 seconds I dallied at the water fountain, my average pace for the day was 7:40 or a 7:52 overall pace with the stops.

My legs felt pretty good until I got to around mile 11. By then I started to feel some fatigue, but I was able to maintain my pace and keep from slowing down. So even though I didn’t feel like I had more than 13 miles in me, at least I didn’t have to slow down to complete them. I didn’t pay much attention to my HR and instead just ran where I felt comfortable. This turned out to be a 157/170 HR for the day. Another good sign is that my legs are not sore at all.

My lungs didn’t have that asthma feeling, but I did sense some burning down my trachea during the few times I started to breathe heavy. Perhaps I am starting to get better.

Not much else to write about the run, other that it was a perfect day outside with clear sky, cool breezes and low humidity. A few times the sun was in front of me and the wind blowing from behind. Other times, the sun was behind me, but I had the wind blowing against me. I started to wonder which condition made it easier or harder to run. When the wind was from behind, I got the push, but I started to feel my body overheating. When the wind was in front, I kept cool, but I had to contend against the force pushing against me. I guess it depends on whether or not you handle the heat well. I don’t think I do, since when it is warm or humid, my HR is always elevated.

Ironman Arizona vs. Ironman Lake Placid - A Comparison

I was recently asked by email what I thought of Ironman Arizona and specifically how it compares to Ironman Lake Placid. I spent a fair amount of time writing my thoughts on the matter so I figured I may as well share them here. If not for the email, I probably would never have given it much thought. I figure I may as well put them here for posterity. Who knows, maybe someone will come across them and find it helpful. So without further ado, here is my email response:

Dear Stacy -

IMAZ and IMLP have nothing in comparison other than the total distances of the swim, bike and run legs are the same. I will give you my recollections of the course, but keep in mind that the 2005 IMAZ was unusually windy; very windy in fact. IMAZ has little humidity; IMLP can have lots of it.

For IMAZ the morning in transition area will be completely dark. Bring a flashlight or you won't see anything by your bike or bags. IMLP will be bright enough for you to see without the aid of a flashlight.

The Swim -

The IMLP swim is much easier and faster. As you know Mirror Lake is crystal clear, calm and has a very convenient underwater buoy line for you to follow the entire distance.

IMAZ has the Tempe Town Lake, which the locals affectionately call the Tempe Town Ditch. It is murky brown from stirred up sediment and visibility is less than the length of your arm. If it is windy, the water can have a fair amount of chop. Sighting was more difficult. It is a single loop swim and the turn around can cost you time if you are not careful to swim towards the buoys accurately. The water didn't have a foul taste or bad odor. I really didn’t mind it. You do swim directly into the rising sun so sighting forward could be difficult.

The Bike -

I haven't been following the news on the plans for the IMAZ race course for 2006, but I understand it is to be significantly different from 2005. This year it was a 3 loop course, with a final shorter 4th loop to T2. For some reason, many people screwed up on the 4th loop (especially pros) and they were DQ'ed or had to head back from the run to complete the bike. No good scenery to speak of and almost completely flat. The city loop made you go through narrow sections where it was impossible to pass and you could easily find yourself drafting.

Because the course was stretched out into the desert, spectators were sparse once you left the city. The wind pushed you for half the bike and slowed you for the other half.

IMLP is hilly. It has many more spectators. You only have 1 chance for Bike special needs. If the IMAZ course remains the same, you will have several chances to get it.

I had a very fast bike split for IMAZ and beat my IMLP time by 20 minutes

The Run –

Both feature a two loop course. This is where the comparison ends. IMAZ was windy, dry and very dusty. You crossed a bridge over the Salt River and the wind wanted to knock you down and blow away your hat. Other sections the wind would want to fill your lungs with dirt and sand. The course had one respite through a nature preserve, which was sort of scenic and pleasant. Truth be told, I just wanted to survive and couldn’t have cared less about the scenery. There were a few short climbs along dusty trails that sucked.

IMLP is much hillier. It had many more spectators lined throughout. I probably would have done better at IMAZ if it weren’t for the wind and dust – again it was uncharacteristically windy according to the locals. The run was tough. My lungs hurt from the dust. My run at IMAZ was about 16 minutes slower.


Other General Comments –

IMAZ lacked the energy that surrounds Lake Placid. That could have been due to a combination of several factors:

It was in the middle of the spring instead of summer
It was warmer with little outdoor shade so maybe people stayed indoors.
It was the first time the race was held.

Training for IMAZ saw me spend a lot of time riding and running indoors. You are competing against all the local Southerners and Californians who have great year round weather. It will be tough to acclimate to IMAZ conditions training in NY.

I am not doing IMAZ again. That is mainly because I am trying to qualify for Kona and I am better off taking the shot for it at a race where I can prepare outdoors. It is too early in the year being on the East Coast to be competitive for me.

I had no trouble recovering after IMAZ and trained very well for Eagleman and IMLP. However, I am still not fully recovered from IMLP. I think that is more a result of having put out a much better race than I did at IMAZ. All I can say is that right now, I am glad I am not doing another Ironman. No way I felt like training for another such as Florida. This feeling may keep me from signing up for IMFL for next year. I’ve already signed up for IMLP 2006. Maybe its just that 2 IMs is enough for one year.

IMAZ wasn’t the greatest race around, but I didn’t hate it. The conditions made it unique and I am glad I did it. It wouldn’t be my first choice for my next Ironman though.

I am not sure if you saw my blog posting about IMAZ, but if you are interested, here is the link: http://runnyc.blogspot.com/2005/04/ironman-arizona.html


Well, thats all I have to say about that. I hope I answered your question. Let me know if you sign up.

Best regards,

Charles

Carnival at my Door

The Carnival of Runners stops on my doorstep this evening and I will endeavor to do it justice. Speaking of justice and matter of law, it is primary night in NY and I am pondering how to describe the differences between Republicans and Democrats to my 8 year old daughter. I suppose the difference is one of philosophy and as distinct in opinion as to whether or not you believe in the POSE method of running. It strikes me that POSE running would be the Democratic point of view.

It also strikes me that many of us have found running to be difficult as of late. Yours truly could barely manage to complete the NYRR 18 miler this past Saturday. Chelle describes her recent 10 mile run as a exhausting and sun scorched, ten-mile ordeal.

Jeanne discovers she is not dying, but has a torn meniscus and will keep running despite the issue. Brooklyn reiterates the theme for this post and describes his own suffering while the rest of New York was slugging it out in Central Park.

Zeke may have been the smartest of all, who took it easy while many athletes slogged it out at Ironman Wisconsin. You can read more about the brutal conditions of that race here and here.

I suppose there is something in each of us that keeps us coming back for more, despite it being tough or scary and making you sick.

Survival Skills

If I learned one thing from Ironman racing, it is how to survive a race. I’ve learned how to overcome pain, fatigue and a desire to quit and make it to the finish line. Today’s NYRR 18 miler caused me to dig deep and force myself to the end. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the desire to bail out on a race as much as I did today.

I am only mildly satisfied, that I pushed onto the finish. I don’t have that large sense of accomplishment as I have in past races, when I persevered through the final mile. I suspect that if I let myself quit I would be sitting here now with a big sense of failure. However, with this completion, all I really have is the feeling “I am glad that is over” and the bewilderment over why running seems to be so hard for me lately.

I just haven’t been feeling right. My legs feel as though they are completely worn out and over trained, despite several weeks of easy workouts or days off. I could tell as soon as I started to run today that I would not be able to run with a decent pace. It is as if all Fast Twitch muscle fiber has left my body. By the time I finished, my legs were sore, my toenails were bleeding and I just felt like going home.

I started out at a moderate pace for the first 8 miles, varying between 8’s to 7:45’s. Miles 9, 10 and 11 were 7:38, 7:31, 7:42 respectively and pretty much the beginning of the end. From that point forward, the fastest I could muster was an 8:29 and that was on mile 12. Sometime after mile 12, I took a page from the Ironman marathon playbook and walked through a water station. I was pretty much content to pack it in and walk back across the transverse to the baggage area. Somehow, I managed to start running again and headed south to 72nd street.

Once I crossed the 72nd Street Transverse, I knew I would finish the race, if only because I had to head to the finish in order to claim my belongings. I no longer had a cutoff that would take me back to the finish without having to complete the course. Someone during these last few miles overheard me saying to myself “I can’t do this anymore” and offered me encouragement by saying “That yes I can”. It was little solace. I knew I would get to the end. What I really meant by that saying was I can’t be running as this slow lethargic pace any longer. I need to figure out what is wrong with me.

My one consolation for the day is the fact that I am not doing the SOS Triathlon tomorrow. With how I ran today, I think it is questionable as to whether or not I would be able to complete it. Fortunately, I had to cancel this year’s entry into SOS because of a family engagement.

Besides my one walking water break, I made several other pit stops along the way. Twice to urinate in the bushes and once to chat with a friend that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I couldn’t have cared less about the couple of minutes I spent speaking to him or the numerous runners that passed me while I lollygagged. It was the most pleasant part of the race for me, especially when he said that after doing IMLP, all I should be doing right now is lying around and eating Twinkies. Maybe he is right.


Workout Stats:


NYRR ING Marathon Tune-Up Stats

Does the Absence of Anything Prove Nothing?

So I went to a pulmonologist today to see what has been bugging my lungs. My Oxygen levels were normal, my lungs sounded clear and the x-ray showed no signs of Lung Cancer, Asbestosis or other malady. I guess it could all be in my head. Which begs the question; does the absence of anything prove nothing?

I suppose your lungs are like an empty cup. You look inside it and do not see anything. This however does not mean “nothing”, as the cup certainly contains air. Maybe my lungs contain something that just can’t be seen.

Actually, the doc did state that the problem could be as a result of inhaling refluxed acid from my stomach during training, racing, sleeping or some other such time. It’s possible. It is not as catchy sounding as Asbestosis, for which I am profoundly grateful. Now if it was inhaled battery acid, that would be much more traumatic and worthy of the thoughts of impending death flowing through my mind.

So for now I will try to push the thoughts of dying a slow death of asphyxiation from my mind until I am so consumed with thoughts of lung trouble that I return to a doctor for another chest x ray. I wonder if the old saw about the patient that complained to his doctor of a pain when he moved a certain way, that he should refrain from moving in such a way applies to my condition. Hey Doc, it bothers me when I breathe. I guess it depends on whether your doctor is named Kevorkian.

Hoffman Island

After years of dreaming about going to this small island, just shy of 1 mile off the coast of Staten Island, I set out on my expedition to swim to it with two other swimmers and 7 kayakers. My friends Cristian and Michael were my swim mates and my kayaking crew was led by the indefatigable Tim.

Tim and I have been planning a kayaker escorted swim to Hoffman Island for the better part of a year. At first, we were planning a winter expedition, where rumor has it that seals sunbath on the island’s rocky shores. However, foul winter weather and spring and summer race commitments prevented us from pursuing an attempt until yesterday. The journey was arranged on the spur of a moment, prompted by an email from me asking Tim if he was ready to go.

The tides dictated that we make a 3pm start from Staten Island to catch the water during slack tide. This would give us plenty of time to reach the island, explore and start back home in time for the incoming tide. Mother Nature blessed us with a perfect day. The sky was crystal clear, the water calm and a northerly wind that was no more than breezy.

Someone raised the question as to whether or not we should inform the lifeguards manning the beach that we were going to be swimming straight out into the open water. My response was a definitive no, as we can only be told not to go. It is far better to plead ignorance, than to have positive confirmation that something should not be done. My logic was irrefutable so we hit the surf and started out for Hoffman. I was told later on that we stirred up quite the frenzy with the lifeguards. They were whistling furiously at us and two set out to catch us; one swimming and the other on a long board. Tim waited for us to be well out into the open water, before turning back and letting the lifeguards know that we were expert swimmers; channel swimmers, which in fact was not so far from the truth for some of us.

The swim to the island was very pleasant. I quickly settled into a smooth steady stroke and kept next to Cristian for most of the way. I kept the kayaks in view to my right and trusted them to guide me. Occasionally I would look up to see how much distance remained. I was satisfied to see the island approaching steadily. Eventually, the remains of an old pier started to take shape. We swam into the piers by making a right turn, followed by a quick left turn to the shore.

We landed on a very small beach made of rocks and seashells which led up to a large stone wall. In the past a dock would allow passengers who arrived by boat to disembark. It was apparent that the dock and pier were reduced to pilings long ago. The kayakers beached their crafts and we all scaled up the rocks to summit the islands retaining wall.

Signs were posted on the island that this was a sanctuary for Herons and serious penalties would be imposed for disturbing them. You could see the Herons flying throughout the island and I was able to see numerous nests. We elected not to venture into the middle of the island. I think this was partly because we didn’t want to bother the Heron nests and the vegetation was so thick, that you couldn’t help scratch your legs or getting nasty brambles stuck all over you. If I go again, I will ask a kayaker to bring long pants, so I could have some protection if I venture into the island.

Our exploration consisted of walking on top of the retaining wall that formed the perimeter of the island. We were treated to fantastic views of the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, Coney Island, Staten Island, Swinburne Island and Sandy Hook. Occasionally we would stumble upon artifacts from when the island was inhabited. Bits of broken bottles, electrical feeder cables, large anchor chains and lots of bricks and concrete that undoubtedly formed the islands buildings.

Eventually, we circumnavigated the island and we arrived back at our landing point. The tide had seriously started its evening push in and the kayaks could be seen bobbing in the low surf. Fortunately, a couple of people remained behind with the boats or else the kayaks could have drifted off.

The swim to the island took about 25 minutes. It looked as though the swim back would be more difficult, since the wind started to kick up and the water appeared very choppy. It was starting to get late in the day, so we didn’t waste anymore time to get moving. The kayakers still had to paddle back up the Hudson to the Downtown Boathouse. It was harder to sight the land on the return trip, since the chop was moving into our faces. I just concentrated on keeping a kayak to my right to guide me home.

Despite the slightly rougher water, the trip back seemed to pass a little more quickly. In fact, the return time was exactly the same as the outbound trip and according to my heart rate monitor, was an easier swim. The water did settle down once we passed the half way point and I am sure the incoming tide made the swim less taxing.

When I landed on the beach, I was greeted by several young children who were filled with all sorts of questions about where I came from. I explained that I just returned from the island out in the distance and they looked at me with utter amazement. I was struck by how something as a 1 mile swim to an island is something that I wouldn’t hesitate to do, but for more others, the thought of doing something “so extreme” is unfathomable. I can’t imagine I am the first person to swim to the island, but I am sure for everyone on the beach, such a thing is unheard of.

Tim and his fellow kayakers beached their boats and allowed Cristian, Mike and I to gather our dry items, water bottles and to say our goodbyes. Everyone felt it was a great adventure and were eager to try something like this again. Tim and I at some point will arrange for a time for the longer swim to Swinburne Island. Swinburne is 1.8 miles away from Staten Island and appears to be the more interesting of the two islands. Swinburne Island still has some buildings on it, perhaps one of them is the crematorium that was used to incinerated the remains of those unfortunate immigrants that died of disease they carried from their homeland.

You can see all of the pictures of our adventure here:

share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8EcNm7Ru0asPu


Here is some information regarding Hoffman and Swinburne Islands:

http://biotech.law.lsu.edu/cphl/history/books/nyhom/ch1-art6.pdf

Cristian (red suit) and I with our fantastic Kayaker crew.


Hoffman and Swinburn Islands