Get diggin'!

Everyone seems concerned whether or not this storm has broken any records, I couldn’t care less. Whether it’s 1″ or 24″, I still have to shovel, and shovel I did. Note from the author: we measured the snow here over 23″ and 48″ in some of the higher drifts. My commute home last night didn’t break and records either. It was slow, two and half hours, but I kept my sanity because we were moving. In case you’re wondering the PR for my commute is over four and a half hours… that’s for 26 miles. I could have literally run home faster that evening and I did lose my mind for a short period trapped in what I was certain was going to be my metal coffin. On a drive like that you do what you have to keep yourself entertained as evidence by the three plays I had written performing two of them using rudimentary sock puppets and my best british accents.

Incidentally what was left of my sanity was lost this past summer on a six-hour trainer ride in my basement.

Back to the snow. All told it took two of us shoveling for over four hours. An eight-hour work day was required to move most of the snow from off the driveway and into even larger visual obstructions on either side. We literally carved a space out for cards to pass through.

My car was buried (not a figurative statement) by the drifting snow it had covered the car almost completely. Which is a better fate than those unlucky souls caught on Lake Shore Drive for 12 hours last night. I would bet each one of those stuck motorists lost a tiny bit of sanity cooped up in those cars. It remains to be seen if any award-winning will result however.

Back to training, this is a triathlon blog after all, or at least that’s what the header claims.

Endurance training is not without its tertiary benefits however, my increased fitness allowed me to shovel like a machine without tiring. Shoveling is an aerobic workout, I was sweating like an easy run, mostly zone 1, but hit zone 2 when digging out a trench in the densest drift. I was supposed to run today, an hour running “hills” on the hamster wheel, but not surprisingly the gym was closed. I’m done with winter, I need spring.

I need summer. (Note to self: Remember that statement when your sweating your !@# off in the 90˚ heat)

Not to be as temperatures are supposed to drop below zero over the next 12 hours, the news has moved on from the rising snow to dropping mercury. I run in pretty cold weather (yes I know I have a cold) but subzero temperatures may even keep me inside. I need to kick this cold that long ago wore out its welcome. I’ve been breathing out of one nostril for the last few hours, eventually I’ll be back to two, that is until it clogs the other side and then I’m back to one. It’s like altitude training, without the benefits. I would ride the bike indoors but I killed myself on that last night in a vain attempt to prove I was better than the cold. I wasn’t and crashed and burned on the last set trying desperately to hold my LT for 5 minutes.

I just needed to keep repeating the mantra: It’s still January, it’s still January… then I remembered it was February and the realization that the season will be here in a blink of an eye, and the training and races will be coming at feverish pace.

I'm the guy in the foreground.

If there is any trouble with training this time of year is that there really isn’t anything to (READ: worth) write about. I work, train, sleep, and start all over again the next day. My minimal down time is spent watching the Bears (I don’t have time or interest to actually watch and other games) and working on my other hobby, home-brewing with my brother. To be honest brewing is a nice change from training for endurance sports, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t work. While it’s nice to always have a cold brew around, even better when you’ve given it your own little twist, but it’s still work. Work on top of real work, and a full training load. In full disclosure a lot credit needs to go to my brother for keeping things going, I must admit we have to split a lot of time between my workouts most weekends. But eight or nine batches in and we have veritable cornucopia of styles to fit most anyone’s taste. Unless you only drink light beer (READ: yellow water) in which case your out of luck, watch too many commercials, and asking for such swill might bring us to fisticuffs. (READ: I’m a little bit of a Beer Snob) But even brewing is taking some down time lately, brewing beer (home-brewing especially) takes patience. For example: At the moment our batch of American Wheat Ale is bottle conditioning while a Chocolate (mocha) Milk Stout sits…. aging in the secondary, there is no need to rush.

Which is I suppose, despite to the work involved is why I like brewing my brother, I spend hours (READ: too much time) alone. One of the things about getting a coach is group workouts go out the door. Workouts that used to be done with friends are now spent working on my own (deficiencies… Damn you PLANK!) trying to eeck a little more speed out each week. So brewing a new batch, while sipping your own cold beer is a nice change of pace. It’s slow, and I get to work with someone else and think about something other than what zone I am in. In case you interested home-brewing, while work, is all in zone 1.

I wish I could say there were something more interesting (READ: goofy) to write, but to be honest there really isn’t. I guess I can like this time of year to a fine beer aging in the secondary. Not much happening, a little bit of bubbling every day or so, but not a lot of real action (racing). I may look like beer and taste like beer yet I’m still not ready to drink. But soon enough I’ll be in the bottle, cap on building up pressure. Then, finally, after proper conditioning I will pop the cap and enjoy a tall golden glass of the 2011 racing season. So I wait, training (toiling), learing patience as I go, no need to rush lest I spoil the batch.

It also has nothing to do with triathlon…. Which is unfortunate.

That said, I’m not one to attempt great change or proclaim grand statements on December 31st at 11:59PM. I think if your going to make a change it can come at any point in the year if you truly want it bad enough. New Years Resolutions are a copout. It’s an easy time to make a resolution, but also a even easier time for your alcohol fueled resolutions to be easily forgotten until January 2nd. Then the easiest bit, simply discarded January 3rd. Retailers know this, all it takes is a quick look at the Sunday paper. I haven’t seen so many treadmills on sale since… well since last January 3rd.

NOTE: A few notes to those just starting out, and trying desperatley to keep with your fitness resolution.

• Make it easy at least at first…

1. … in pace (keep it slow to start).
2. … in your expectations. If your goal is a marathon put it off a year, wet your feet in something shorter while you build some strength and enduracnce. You’ll stay healthier longer because of it. Think lifestyle change, not run one marathon, then take 5 years off to recover from it.
3. … in time and time management. Keeping too rigorous a plan to begin with can often lead to getting discouraged early, then overuse injury, more missed workouts, then giving up.
4. … keep it FUN! This is supposed to be enjoyable (READ: not work) Most of us are not getting paid to do this.

• Run outside! Cold weather  running gear is a hell of a lot cheaper than any treadmill I saw for sale. Yes I know the cold hurts your delicate sensibilities. Sorry.. toughen up. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. (I know that goes against the prior point, but not everything should be easy)

(Off my soapbox now)

But I have to admit, I am more optimistic about 2011 than I have been in recent years for a number of reasons.

1. I’m healthy, no real nagging injuries and I’m not afraid to jinx it by writing it here. (knock-on wood)
2. More solid and focused base training is going well, and my fitness is improving with eyes solid spring. (being healthy helps)
3. This is the first off-season I’ve had a coach, so I feel someone other than myself, is invested in my progress.
4. Because of my coach I’m not blowing out every workout. I’m learning to go hard at the right times and easy when directed.
5. The key words in that last statement is “I’m learning…” I think from pros-to-joes endurance sports is a work in progress, never finished and never beyond repair or improvement.
6. Finally I’m taking more pleasure in the little things when training. Small bites. Gaining satisfaction from smaller gains as hey come, winter is long I want to race ready in May, not December.

I have some more news coming in the next week or so, so be sure to check back soon or use a news-reader and get updates sent to you in real time. It is 2011 after all, news readers are so 2007. Plus I promise a more ridiculous post as is accustomed here.

Does not = 5K!

I did have a decent race the other day, my only goal this fall was to improve my running and see my times drop at each 5K I entered. My speed has suffered greatly between my back injury and knee trouble over the course of the last year and half and I am finally feeling truly healthy again (knock on wood). My overall 5K time did in fact improve each race but I am far from where I would like to be, but am confident with a solid off-season base and some real speed work this spring I should see that continue.

The 2010 Naperville Turkey Trot was a in a word ENORMOUS! 7000 people…. I repeat 7000 people. I remember when that race was 2000 people and even that seemed like a lot. But I guess running has gained in popularity over the past few years and race directors are getting better at motivating the masses off their collective couches. It is only 3.1 miles after all, you could walk it in a negligible amount of time (and people did – that’s why there were 7000 entrants). At least I hope they were walking because they were still finishing as I was leaving, 50-plus minutes into the “race”. They continually announce that you can “Ask for another piece of pie today because you “ran” this 5K.”

Let’s get something straight: I hope our not predicating your mass consumption of all manner of the gelatinous and congealed food groups on a single 3.1 mile run (worse yet a walk). The numbers don’t add up. The amount of calories burned in a 5K can hardly cover an extra sliver of pumpkin pie much less your CostCo sized wedge lovingly smothered with whipped cream and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

The race was self seeded, by this I mean 6 minute mile runners and obviously those with mild senility to the front and all others work their way back accordingly. Needless to say there were a ton of people up at the front this time around and I wasn’t vain enough to think I should be at the lead edge, but many a grandpa was and they were immediately swallowed up my the hoard and spit out the back as the gun went off. I’m not sure if they were trampled, but I tried my hardest not to get any on my shoe.

Here’s a note: If your a passed by 500 hundred pimple faced teenagers who drop 5 minute miles with no warm up, holding a full conversation, running backwards, while juggling, chainsaws (okay – not chainsaws – but that would be cool) you seeded yourself too high! Get to the back back next time Mr.Gebrselassie.

I felt I was seeded appropriately yet still met with traffic in the first few seconds of the race, as evidence by the kid, (Read: teenager – you know your old when teens are now “kids” – let’s be fair and just call him “some punk”) who honestly took himself out by kicking my knee and going down face first. I move left to get around him and his friends and unfortunately for him he moved left as well (I say unfortunately for him because it was good for me to take out some of the competition early). I guess to run three wide with his buddies… in traffic, like no one else was there, aside from the 6500 people behind us. His back foot kicked my knee and he tripped, crashing face first into the pavement. He was OK (I told myself) I wasn’t going to stop and help him up, this is a race, plus when I looked back and saw the masses descending upon him. He was lost… Just let him go.

After that incident the streets started to open up faster guys cruising at the front and everyone else settling into a reasonable pace there after, if by reasonable you mean a minutes per mile faster than they can sustain over the next two miles. It is a 5K after all. It takes years to learn of training and discipline (Read: raw speed) to sustain your first mile speed over the entire course, much less run descending miles. I should figure it out around the time I should no longer seed myself at the front of the race (Read: blue-hair).

I did run a more reasonable race this time out as compared to the previous 5K were my first mile was nearly 30 seconds faster than the next two, and I actually was able to kick out the last portion of race this time as result. I made a mental note of that for the future… (and now the note is summarily forgotten – it’s 5K man just GO!) In the end I had shaved 30 or more seconds off my time from a month ago without any real speed work and my body is feeling better than ever. All signs were looking up, and then the cold struck hard the next morning and reminded me of the long slog till spring yet to come.

The the 5K season for me is over I think, maybe I’ll find another one, but I doubt I’ll be wearing shorts on race day, hopefully no rest-home escapees will be injured in the process.

He swims better than me

Why is that?

Why is it, and I don’t think I just speak for myself here, that swimming can sometimes be the red headed stepchild of triathlon?

I’m sure the reasons are legion, mostly because it’s not what gets most people into triathlon in the first place and they have to learn to swim if they ever want to finish. I’ll admit as well, I’m one of them. While I sur eI would have said I could swim pre-triathlon, from my current perspective I would label it as I could barely swim. I could survive, but not “really” swim. Perhaps it’s because of all three it takes time to learn, patience, focus and lots of practice. Everyone likes to ride a bike, and we all learned to run not long after we could walk. It’s natural, while swimming is a foreign matter to our normal state.

Oddly though I feel a sense of fulfillment from a long swim much more than I do from the other two. Certainly I like endorphins it brings on, many of us are addicted to that, but more than that I think it’s the mear act of breaking me out of my comfort zone. It’s part completing the task, part feeling the progress, bust mostly just fact that it doesn’t come easily (at all) to me that keeps me coming back. I like the fact that it difficult, even a short swim can be rough, if it were easy everybody would be doing it. It comes down to this: If I only ran, I’d be a runner. If only rode, I’d be a cyclist. Because I swim too, I’m a triathlete.

It’s a good thing the I got stuck in an extra 40 minutes of traffic on the way back from Madison this evening giving me some additional time to remember this past summer… and all the training, and the reasons I said no Ironman next year! Because the thought of signing up did cross my mind… if only for a moment.

You can’t help but want to sign up after spectating one of these things live, and of course forgetting all the training that comes with that commitment. You just see race day, one day is easy, months of preparation is long, hard, time consuming, and LONG! (did I say that already, either way it deserves to be mentioned twice?)! I had such a great experience in Canada, it would be an easy trap to fall into, but alas no.

Someone asked me if I was going to sign up for IMWI 2011 tomorrow, I said “No! Plus I’m headed home. Thinking I would be safe at home, far from Menona Terrace and the strange gravitational attraction Ironman Registration has on most warm-blooded triathletes. I thought I was safe until the response was how I could sign up online at noon. Thanks for putting that nugget in my head!

So I guess my Iron-Malaise is subsiding, being replaced with a tiny bit of Iron-Envy.

I think shorter and local are the name of the game next year as I promised myself all summer. That’ll also give me most of the next year to think about what Ironman I’ll race in 2012.

If you’ve got some less hastily taken pictures worth posting send’em to me.
And Congratulations to all the athletes on a job well done.

Worst sequel ever? Nah!

An Ironman is run on race day but an Ironman is made over the prior year. If you have just run an Ironman you’ve probably forgotten that you just read the previous sentence. If it’s been a few years since you ran an Ironman then your probably experiencing mild dislexia and can’t even read the previous three sentences. I’ve forgotten I wrote them them several times in the last five minutes. It is this collective amnesia that gets people to sign up year after year.

The mantra that “more is always better” is engrained in the fabric of our country. Exponential math is often used in place of addition here, if one is good two is four times as good, or so our the thinking goes. The truth is more is just well… more. Over the last 15 years Hollywood’s been milking this idea for all it’s worth. Even if a film does poorly at the box office some poor hack is tirelessly hammering away at its schlock filled follow-up days later. The turn around has gotten so fast they film them simultaneously now. (See: Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man’s Chest and At Worlds End) Sometimes good (Aliens) sometimes bad (Alien 3) sometimes really, really bad (Alien: Resurection), it’s the familiar that brings us back to the theater.

The sequel is a well documented and simple formula: pick up generally where you ended the last film, use the same cast of characters plus at least one new character (Think: Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2), a new story line similar to the first but generally in a new locale, then finally, and most importantly, a new and more difficult, both the internal conflict and external, conflict for the protagonist.

If these are the rules for which a sequel are framed, then Ironman Canada was definitely a sequel.

To be fair the jury is out on whether my first Ironman was a box office hit or not. The training was long, days were hard, the race was difficult, but I got through and lived to tell about it. Finishing truly is it’s own reward for such a long day. I had overcome my fears of the swim’s distance, rode hard, perhaps to hard, and when reduced walking late in the run, nearly broken, had to dig deep for a climactic finish. It was tough, but rewarding.

But coming into Ironman Canada I felt like I was picking up triathlon right after Ironman Wisconsin. True, I had raced a couple of times in-between but really quite sparingly. Plus my training had been in such fits and starts it hardly felt like I had raced at all in a couple years. So I was essentially picking up where I had left off in the prior film, errr… Ironman. As with any good film, all was well for our hero (in this case me – this is all in my head – get your own movie) in life after Ironman Wisconsin. Having competed his trials our hero had cooly rode his trusty steed off into the sunset, feeling no need for a encore performance the following year. Rather content with himself, his notion of training for shorter distances, for which he most certainly was better suited, was unfolding as planned.

Training going well the next season began. In a movie this is usually where fate steps in the set the hero on a new path. And as such a sudden snap, crackle, and pop of his vertebrae, our hero (me again) and the audience (also me – this is in my head remember) are reminded of his mortality. There would be no racing that year, or so it seemed. The downward spiral continues, the season falls into in peril, and then into an eventual and unavoidable stall. Dejected, depression sets in and our hero is left with the tattered ruins of his once proud life and turns to the bottle. (bing! – internal conflict) OK I didn’t become and alcoholic, but imagery of a broken athlete crawling into a bottle is a well used cinematic device.

A good movie would have woven this back story into the title sequence, taking the protagonist down a notch even before the movie really begins. This sets the audience up with the knowledge that he had been where they left him, on top of the world, but now on a comeback trail. Audiences love a comeback. (See: Rocky III, IV, V…) The movie would really begin with a melancholy scene involving the hero’s return home from physical therapy having won the tiny battle of his broken back, chunkily wearing a sad-looking brace, and gimping around the house from near constant pain in his butt.

I spent months in physical therapy to get back to “normal” only to do something foolish and run a marathon to prove I was fit (READ: an idiot). The only thing I proved was an efficient method of inducing months of knee pain and a quick trip, literally, back to the same physical therapist that had worked on my back a few months earlier. This would fall under the “more difficult external conflict” element of the sequel formula. Internally I was a mess too, this injury put my whole season in jeopardy, for the second year in row, and worse yet could keep me from making Canada’s starting line. (ding! – mounting doubt – internal conflict)

But like a good movie I overcame this obstacle in my first bought of therapy and started training in earnest again for Canada, my knee mostly in good form, I was back on track. But the fits and starts had left my fitness wanting. It’s important to note that it’s a staple in sequels to have some sort of scenes where you see the protagonist (me) attempting the same tired and busted moves (read: training plan) he used in the prior movie again only to fail miserably. Usually this is shown through a montage sequence (if you don’t know what a montage is see here: Montage) to show the passage of time and to great comic effect. So after much failure and soul-searching (buzz – internal conflict again!) I decided to add a new character to the movie… I mean get a coach.

Enter Liz.

Under Liz’s guidance I started a new training regimen, new workouts, new ideas, and a fresh start on my quest. Things were going well. Time would pass as I would get back into shape again. This would be, I imagine in a Rocky-esque montage, rustic winter farm-house, ripping off thousands of sit-ups while hanging from the joists, fire blazing in the background, and sweat pouring form my brow as I train to Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger. Things are going well… too well. This script needs more conflict!

In film this kind of high is always followed by a super-low, the near fatal obstacle, where hero must decide to tuen and run or continue on.

Cue knee pain! Hello…

It’s worse than before now, I can barely run… no, I can’t run. Panic, doubt, (grrr! – internal conflict). What will our hero (me again) do?

Add another new character, Yoda perhaps? Sure. But we’ll call him Larry.

Yoda, I mean Larry, practices the art of A.R.T (Active Release Techniques) to much effect from what I was told. Admittedly skeptical I agree to see Larry as I will try anything at this point. Of course to get to Larry I have to make the infuriating long drive in horrific construction traffic. Slo Itibital wly giving my away part of my soul to the tollway authority every trip to his office. Yoda… Larry takes pity on our hero and begins his teachings of the A.R.T. of using the force. Thus began my training as a Jedi Knight. Not really, I mostly just laid there. Well I laid there with electrodes taped to my forehead (leg – but forehead is a funnier image), followed by a quick game of tug-o-war with my Band. Run training was replaced with me stretching at home constantly. But most importantly, Larry forbade me to run, and especially not to bike then run. (Like Luke I couldn’t go into the forest (and run) the Dark Side lived there – sorry I had to add that pardon me for geeking out for a moment there).

External and internal conflict mounted, as I was forced to ride and swim alone, in the hope that I would be able to eventually use my mind to lift that damn X-Wing outta the swamp and run again. My fitness was improving, Liz kept her cool and guided me through Mr. Miyagi style (sorry mixing sequels), working on things that seemed like they had nothing to do with anything triathlon related while I rehabbed my knee.

More montage, time passes. But unlike Luke in Empire in this movie Yoda feels I am ready and I get to test the knee. And like magic I was healed, the X-Wing was on solid ground! I could run again. Not 100% at first but getting there. With Larry’s blessing I left the Degobah System and traveled back challenge Vader. Well not exactly more like I went home and rode in my basement.

My held up through an early test at the Steelhead 70.3 but that’s when Liz dropped some new and more diabolical obstacles in my way. Ultra-long, ultra lonely, LONG rides, and super-hot long runs. Totally alone. My mind was breaking. (zing! – external conflict that in turn becomes internal – a screenwriter’s favorite kind of conflict!) just me and the bike… for hours. Many rides done on the trainer for more than 5+ hours. I am convinced I touched madness at least once on the bike.

I think after recovering from my brush with madness a montage sequence to fill time. It would consist of lots training, waiting, staring long and hard into warm summer sunsets, travelling to Canada (which in itself is a blog post waiting to happen) and generally looking cool and fit while hard inspiring rock music plays beneath the film.

Obviously the race itself takes place in another locale, bigger hills, more people, longer single loop routes. It was majestic in comparison to Madison, I felt small in relation to the landscape. Also, I was freaking out. But that’s normal Ironman pre-race jitters. Somehow, someway under Liz’s tutelage (and prodding) I got myself to that race start, mind intact. Sort of. And while I can’t say I won the race, or even came close to placing in my age group, I did PR. More importantly however I did have the smoothest race I can remember. I don’t think I have smiled more during any race as I did in Ironman Canada. It was so gratifying to have made it to the start intact and fit enough to race.

I could go on and on drawing more parallels and boring you, the reader to tears, but I’ll leave it at that.

If Canada was a follow-up to Ironman Wisconsin it was a great sequel. One that I would place on the order of Empire or Rocky 4. That’s a good company, I mean do you remember Rocky versus Ivan Drago? The Russian dude. He killed Apollo! But Rocky took it and kept on coming.

I love that movie…

Have you seen this man's brain?

What is Iron-Malaise you say?

It’s that post race depression you feel when the high volume training load that has occupied every minute of your life, gave your morning purpose, drove your evening hunger, and superseded all brain activity over the past year, is suddenly stripped away. In an instant. It’s that moment right after you cross the finish line when a couple of strangers grab hold of your shoulders, propping you up, your legs dangling like a marionette and say “We’ve got you. You can stop now.” While a third secretly removes your brain as they place the finisher’s cap over your head. The resulting shock of this sudden and abrupt stop to your Ironman journey can leave you with a gaping hole in your life. The crushing finality of it all is Iron-Malaise.

A wise person suggests you should spend the next month filling your new-found free time with “fun” outside training. The quick retort is that “Swimming, biking and running is my idea of fun!”. Your told to “Go have a life outside sport for a little while.” It sounded great in July, even easy. Bare in mind you may have been carrying the mental imagery of this month off since June. The flashes of lounging by the pool, sharing an ice-cold beer, generally eating whatever and whenever it was offered, looked splendid back then. Yet when the day finally arrives you may find that the silence is deafening. You must understand in a true case of Iron-Malaise when the time comes to finally relax, no matter how much you may have fantasized about it months ago, you end up feel like your wasting your time. Just sitting there as all the hard-earned fitness is quickly flittering away, you feel yourself getting “doughy”. Dreams of a short run to cure this feeling quickly set in, or just an easy 60 miles on the bike to get the feeling back. Like a junky it’s the endorphins you crave.

In late July you made a promise to yourself to actually have some down time, your friends, of whom you’ve seen precious little of (you have them still – you hope) invite you to the summer’s last barbecues. A final chance to see some familiar faces in the sun before the deep freeze. You feel you should go.

You should go.

But no, you can’t run there.

This isn’t to say the logic of time off isn’t sound, beneficial, even necessary in your training cycle, but it may take some time to let that sink in (if you have a thick skull like me) and learn to relax again. With an outsider’s logic a friend remarks to you that they think “Wouldn’t all you want to do is relax after an Ironman? Just lay in bed for the next few months.” Sounds logical, just pull the covers tight over your head and sleep a little longer. And that image sounded good a few weeks ago, but now all you want to do is go for a run, a quick ride, even a swim (yes even a swim) anything aerobic to release some of this energy.

I am having all these thoughts, but feel I just need to wait it out. At least for another week or so. Hopefully by them I’ll know what to do with myself.

It is nice to actually have time to sit sown and slowly read the newspaper and sip a warm cup of coffee in the morning… and write this. But the caffeine puts my system into training mode… a run would cure this… but no. Despite the cooling weekend weather, perfect for running, it’s best to solider on… by doing nothing a little bit longer. A week truly isn’t enough, to stave off burnout.

I won’t be making the same mistakes as last year and attempting a marathon in October, that was dumb. I’ve decided I don’t like straight up marathons, I would rather run a marathon in an Ironman than just a running race alone. I like 5K’s and half-marathons and the occasional dopey 8K, but straight marathons are a boring, crowded, mess of humanity. Plus it seems I always get injured afterwards, so no marathons.

No Ironman next year either, at least that’s what is written on the back of my hand in bold type anyhow. It must have made sense when I got the tattoo. Incidentally it’s Iron-Malaise that can get you to do something silly like sign up for another Ironman the following year. “What else are you going to do with your time?” you think. But like the title of this says they took my brain at the finish line (I still haven’t found it anywhere in my luggage) and I’m certain that’s where the memories of those ultra-long training rides and hellishly hot runs live, because I can’t quite recall them now. It’s hard to remember all the training… all too easy to remember the race high.

I’m hoping that I can live vicariously through watching Ironman Wisconsin next week, maybe find my brain in their lost and found. As for now however it’s some down time, let my body heal (no matter how recovered it may feel) and have a guilt free beer in the sun.

The first Thanksgiving where Turkey Trot's began...

A quick note to the undoubtedly plentiful “would be assassins” waiting for an opportune moment to take me out: You missed me! I changed it up this year.

Not really, but it would be cool if there were many dark assassins out to get me, as opposed to the robots that really are, but that’s another post entirely.

It’s Thanksgiving Day today and usually to get in a workout mostly as means to remove some guilt from the countless calories I will consume in one sitting I would, in years past, be running the Naperville Noon Lions Turkey Trot. However this year in an attempt to change things up this year I ran a small unofficial race/run… trot. Still in Naperville but with a lot less people, a good cause and better surface and scenery; The Turkey Club 5K. This was an impromptu alternative fun run put on by local pro triathlete Jenny Garrison at the Springbrook Trail Forest Preserve as a way to escape the huddled masses of the Noon Lions race (run.. fun run… trot… I never know what to call these things, am I racing? Or just running… or has it devolved into a trot? Trot may rhyme but it sounds pathetic.) Regardless it was inexpensive, and the toy you donated went to a good cause, The Aurora Holiday Gift Mart for which I can at least know what I sponsoring. I don’t even know what a “Noon Lion” is, do you?

As the title of this post suggests this was the first extended run I have done since the marathon back in October, 47 days to be exact, my first real attempt to “kick the tires.” If you have been reading you will know that recently I’ve been resting this bum knee, while all manner of poking, prodding and atomic scanning was preformed to determine the root cause of the pain I felt. As it turns out, the obvious prescription of rest, ice, and stretching my hamstring, was all it took to get me up and “running” again (pardon the pun). Of course that prescription as any (I use this term loosely) “athlete” knows stopping training, (READ: loosing hard earned fitness) is the toughest pill to swallow, but I took a spoonful of sugar and let medicine go down. And after this short run I have to say it was the right move. In the past three days I have completed the triumvirate, I rode on Tuesday, swam on Wednesday, and ran on Thursday. This was a good thing.

The run was a good wake up call and a great test on a few levels.

1. I needed to see how my knee would hold up under load.
2. I needed to see how much my run fitness had dropped off.
3. I needed to see how my new cold weather run gear would perform on a chilly day.
4. I needed to see if my knee would suffer any lingering.

I would have to say the results looked promising. Not surprisingly most important on this list was the stress on my knee, 3.1 miles was plenty.

RACE REPORT:
In what I felt was both figuratively and literally appropriate, the Start Line was an ironic “line drawn in the sand” no chip mat here, and a mass start. I positioned myself near the front, why I don’t know but it was done with ease, no shoving needed. It was a small race. BAM! I we were off and like and idiot who didn’t know his pace I of course went out entirely too fast, not in the lead but in 3rd place. Feeling good at the start I glanced at my watch as I ran the first half mile, 6:20/mile pace, wow was I on fire? I didn’t think I would be able to even hit that speed? As it turns out that was way too fast a pace for me to keep with as many intangibles as I had, and around the 3/4 mark I felt that familiar feeling again… Darn it all if that knee pain didn’t come right back to where it was last month. Looking at the Garmin I can see the jump in heart rate as the thought of more down time came racing through my mind. But the pain plateaued and just at the bottom of a small rolling hill I realized that my form had fallen off, weak legs had caused me to heal crash as opposed to running with a more forward running style. With the pain at it peak I stopped briefly to rub out and issue and see if the pain would subside, it did, and with diminished pain I set out again this time mindful of my running position. I forgot to mention, at this point I was sucking wind too and now in fifth or sixth place.

Not caring about placement anymore I carried on and tried hard to focus on running properly, and what do you know, like a light switch the pain went away. Keeping myself in the proper form was difficult at first, I could tell both my run fitness and leg strength needed work but there wasn’t any pain, so I was happy. I was sweating bullets at this point, over dressed as usual, so there was no worry about the run gear, so all I needed to know now was how well my fitness would hold up under stress. To that end I can’t complain, while I was sucking wind throughout, I went out too fast remember, according to my Garmin, I ran the first mile fast, the second mile a little slower, but regained first mile pace on the last mile. I can be satisfied with that, and lends credence to my thought about proper running form both being better for my knee and as it turns out faster. That’s the report, my officially unofficial time has yet to be posted but the truly unofficial time off my Garmin was 22:17. While this is well off a result I would call acceptable, it was good test, with what seems like no lingering effects, a great place to start.

On a side note in an effort to promote a more forward, (READ: less heal strike) running form I think I am going buy a pair or Newton Running shoes, it was something I was thinking about before this trot race but furhter resolved on the third leg this morning.

Finally I would like to thank the Jenny Garrison, and her Mom for putting on a fine race, and a nice alternative to the hordes we are all accustomed to, it was much appreciated. And should you want more promotion next year let me know.

Now it’s time for turkey. (READ: Now it’s time for pecan pie and somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 calories per plate of food followed by a mild myocardial infarction, that I will hope the tryptophan can allow me to sleep through)