When will this...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7THIhZEP4QM&feature=related

...be regarded as ludicrous as this...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDCGSsOaLDA

...needless to say, I'm reading this...
http://www.amazon.com/Lance-Landis-Inside-American-Controversy/dp/034549962X/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1196445564&sr=8-1

...right now, and no, it's not written by some crackpot. It's well-researched and thought out. It's a good read, would recommended it to anyone interested in Olympic sports.

And while I'm offering my opinion, I don't think Big Mig (or Ulrich, obviously) were "cheated" in any way, if you get my drift.

BTW, go team!

My New Favorite Appliance (with recipe)

This thing is awesome. I have used food processors, blenders, and smoothie makers with much success, they worked great for me over the years. But my food processor left something to be desired when making nut butters like these.

Enter the Sunbeam model pictured here. What’s great is it makes short work of nut butters, and the multiple containers are handy for making smoothies that you can consume later, say if you run over your lunch break like I do.

Easiest Paleo Recipe Ever:
Roast raw almonds for 10-12 minutes at 350deg. (don’t add oil, salt, etc, just roast the nuts)
Let almonds cool and place in Sunbeam processor, add a pinch of salt.
Begin grinding nuts and drive to the next county, because it’s LOUD! (taking it to a room and shutting the door works, too)
Wait for noise to turn from “grinding” sound to a “blending” sound and remove containter. Caution: it will be hot!
Cover almond butter and put in fridge and boil some eggs (preferably Omega-3 enhanced).
Let eggs cool, peel and cut in half.
Discard yolks (or feed to your 10-year-old dog) and “devil” the eggs with almond butter.
Enjoy, preferably with some defrosted cherries and blueberries.

Almond butter works wherever you like peanut butter, and it tastes way better, IMO.

Next, easy smoothie recipe…

Route 66 Half Finale:

So, when we reach the slight upgrade that passes for a hill in Kansas, I “go” which really means I maintain my pace from the flats up the hill. I don’t know what happened behind me, because I didn’t look back, but I could hear someone behind me, especially at the water stop. We make the turn into town, a turn I took too wide, and one of the guys in purple passes me back. Mission accomplished, no more purple sandwich. Time to settle in and draft behind this guy.

By now we’re running single file down the middle of the street in downtown Baxter Springs, Kansas, number 2 and 3. He picks up the pace and I match, we go down a hill and back up. This is where it starts to hurt. My plans of a mile ago to save something for a final kick have been replaced with thoughts of “just hang on.” I’m sure we were quite a sight to the locals, a purple and red streak of runners, breathing heavily and sweating in the chilly air.

And that’s all you need to read to know how it ended, but I’ll finish the story anyway. The state line was fast approaching, and I am giving it all I have trying to catch this guy, but he’s slowly pulling away. I try to kick and catch up, but he’s accelerating at the same rate, if not a little faster. We round the last turn and the finish line approaches. Can I catch him?

Not today. I steal a look back and see no one, cruising into the finish line. Am I disappointed? It hurts too much to be upset. Third place overall, first in my age group, and a PR by 7 minutes in a half. I think not. Some great racing with fellow competitors and a PR, what more could you expect.

I shake the hand of the second place finisher and of the scary-fast winner. Thankfully, one is two age groups older than me and one is one younger. Time to bring home the hardware…

Age group winner’s trophy, hanging in my office. Unique and way cooler than gilded plastic.

Now, it’s time to celebrate the end of a great season, so we…
Cheer on the other runners as they finish, almost freezing to death in the process.
Get on warm clothes, but when the feeling returns to my legs, I wish they could go back to being numb.
Enjoy one of these:

I know, I was just freezing, but it’s my favorite “recovery” drink.
Go to the awards ceremony, clap/cheer/clap/cheer.
Go home, shower up, and watch more “normal” sports like college football.

Can you believe, Mizzou is ranked #1? Had to watch the game, ‘cuz I don’t know when this will happen again.

Prologue: Sunday morning. Walking takes too much effort. As this story began, this hurt more the day after than any other race I’ve done. Steps are excruciating. As I was groaning and complaining while descending the steps in our house, my wife says, “I’m sorry...”

To which I reply simply, “I’m not, it was worth it.”

Step…ouch…step…ouch.
My first marathon didn’t hurt this much. The Endurance 50 marathon last year didn’t hurt this much, even though my longest run of the year was the last leg a half ironman. Hell, Ironman didn’t hurt this much.

But this weekend, the annual “Race Across Kansas” half marathon was held, as always, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The reason I hurt more during this race: I didn’t have anything left at the end. For the first time, it felt satisfying to finally leave everything I had on the road during a race.

Here’s some of the particulars:
Time: 1:28:31
HR: 164 avg for the last 30 mins, middle of zone 4 for me.

Overall, this is a fun race. Most notably, the start is 10 miles from my house and the entry fee is $20, but it’s pretty competitive. There were runners from Springfield (80 miles away) that participated. It’s also fun because it defines this area of the country…Americana, at the heart of “America’s Main Street.”

See, “historic” (if something that’s only 50 years old can be called that) Route 66 passes through Kansas on its way from Missouri to Oklahoma. What’s unique is that this particular stretch of road measures-you guessed it-13.1 miles from border to border, at least almost. If you were to actually measure it, you might get 13.06 or 13.2, depending on what method you use. Heck, my Nike+ said I ran 12.55 miles during the race, but I know that’s not right. Quick diversion, yes I calibrated it, but at 7:00 pace instead of the 6:45 pace that I actually ran. Didn’t think it would make that much of a difference.

Also notable is the “rainbow bridge” that you run over. It’s the only remaining bridge of the somethingorother design on Route 66. You can’t drive across it any more, but you can run a race across it. Ironically, it’s painted all white, which I guess is all colors of the rainbow. This year, passing through rainbows has been a good sign for me.

The morning began with a light snow and 30 degrees, which meant the favored prerace banter was about what to wear, like a bunch of teenage girls going to the mall. Since I’m not a teenage girl and I hate going to the mall, you’ll be glad to know that I ran the race in my Hammer running shorts; although, I also had a long sleeve top, arm warmers, gloves and a coolmax beanie. And let’s not forget some kickin’ Newton shoes. I remarked a couple weeks ago to a fellow runner at the Y, “if these shoes were a car, they’d be a Ferrarri, they’re all kinds of fast.” Kind of appropriate to have a muscle car when cruising down Rte 66.

Anyway, weather was not an issue. The snow stopped before anyone even got to the start line, and the pavement was barely wet. The temp was probably 40 at the 9am start, and there was very little wind, which is unusual in Kansas.

Right before the race start, as I was ending my warmup, the ultra-running extrodinaire, Earl showed up, sporting a hydration pack and a lot more clothing than the rest of us. He’s got this insane habit of “backing up” races like this. He parked his car at the finish line 2 hours before and ran to the start line to make it a full marathon instead of “only a half.” He did that at a local 25k in February for his own version of a “frozen ultra.” Like a much taller Dean Karnazes, with a beard.

Not this guy, just runs like him (the guy on the left).

Go! No gun, no air horn, no whistle, just a race director saying go, and not even hollering go. Very old school, indeed. The race starts out in your typical post-mining landscape on a road that’s seen a hard life and little care in 30 years. I started at a comfortable, but not too easy pace, and settled into the first 3 miles and checked out the competition. There were about 6 guys in front of me and a man and woman alongside for the first 5 miles or so. This was counting the speedster-eventual winner-from Kansas who I couldn’t see after about 4 miles down the road.

The first few miles is downhill, so I just ran by feel and checked my HR periodically. In the process, I had picked off all but 3 runners by the “turnaround” at the intersection where the road veers to the left and starts heading south, which is also about the halfway point. When I passed the 4th place guy, we exchange greetings and he points to the 2 guys running in the distance “There’s 2nd and 3rd up ahead.” He stopped short of adding “go get ‘em” because they were all wearing matching purple kits, part of the same running club/team/cult. Didn’t quite figure that part out. Made a mental note for later, though.

Just then, I grabbed some water and crossed the rainbow bridge, smiling for the cameraman. Then it was time to begin the task of reeling in the two ahead. It took a good 3 miles to do it-remember, you can see a long way in Kansas. I pull up behind them and ease into their pace, no need to try to redline and blow by with over 3 miles to go, again, you can see a long way in Kansas. Objects in the rearview are closer than they appear. We chat a little, commenting about how horribly wrong the mile markers are placed. They pick up the pace a little and I decide to draft behind them awhile. I’m running an even pace and there’s no need to challenge their pacing just yet.

But, as a mile clicks by, I get this sinking feeling with visions of being caught in a purple sandwich at the finish. These guys were working together when they passed me at mile 2, as obvious as the names of Kansas towns along Rte 66. So, in the distance, I see a "hill" about a half mile away. This is where I decide to go.

To be continued...

“Whoever wins, we’ll call him the Iron Man”
-Cdr John Collins, before the 1978 Hawaii Ironman

Been riding my indoor trainer and catching up a little on my reading. Only 3 months behind (translation: Base 2, Base 3, and Build/Peak) on my Triathlete, InsideTri, and Runner’s World subscriptions.

One article was interesting, if not a little maddening. Basic premise is this exchange…

Ironman 2nd Timer: (flashes M-dot tat on right calf)
Super-fast, super-snobby Kona qualifier: “you know, you are only *qualified* to enter the Ironman tribe and mark your body with the M-dot if you have completed Hawaii”
Ironman 2nd Timer: “Oh, really?”

Way I see it, the Kona-snobs need to check their history, then go win an Ironman, any Ironman, or shut up. Gordon Haller, being bestowed the original nuts-and-bolts “Iron Man” is one thing, all the rest is just ink.

If someone wants to permanently place a company’s trademark on their skin, so be it. How is that any different than the accountant that has a Harley tat on his arm, sunburned from the weekend? Triathlon is a lifestyle, of which some of us partake 20+ hours a week, some of us only 4 hours on the weekend. Nevertheless, we’re all part of the tribe. Now let’s start acting like a tribe and all get along, enjoying our differences.

Besides, save the bickering and name-calling for the race ;-)

Cheers,
TriHeart

Help! I’m still racing!!!

At least my internal clock thinks so…

Woke up at 5:30 this morning with one of those strange dreams. In it, I’m at an Ironman Wisconsin, race morning. I’m in the race, at least I should already be in the race, but I’m not yet. The visual that woke me up was one of standing at the top of the helix, looking down at the swim course. The only problem is, it’s T+25 minutes into the race and the pros are rounding the first buoy beginning their second lap. The last thought I had before I woke was “ok, this is no big deal, even if I swim slow, I can still swim a 1:45 and make the cutoff.”

Weird huh? Welcome to the post-race blues! I was planning on going to the Y for a swim session anyway, so I got a 15 minute headstart on the day. And lo and behold, got to the pool and did my warmup and first few 100’s crazy fast (for me at least). Must have still had the dream in the back of my head.

TriHeart

The Eye is Ok

Had a few inquiries about my eye in the past week. It’s totally fine, had it checked out 42 hours post-ironman. For proof, check out the dilated “no, I’m not on drugs” look, courtesy of eye checkup. After an hour of letter-reciting, eye-dropping, light-shining, note-taking, and saying “hmm,” the eye checked out fine. No damage to LASIK, retina, or anything else important.

The only time my eye doc’s jaw dropped was while explaining the distances covered in an ironman. Then she said I was in the wrong place, that I actually needed my head checked! :-)

TriHeart

"Just the facts, ma'am" ~Joe Friday from Dragnet



Well, the gear is all put away, weapons cleaned, oiled, and ready for action, save the body. Still have blisters from ringing the cowbell until midnight.

Ok, for all the data-freaks (myself included) here's the rundown for my 18-week buildup to IM Wisconsin:

Swim: 37hrs 4mins
Bike: 115hrs 52mins
Run: 62hrs 52mins
Strength: 20hrs 15mins

The plan was straight out of Coach Gordo's Going Long. IMHO, it's the only book you need to finish an Ironman.

Finally,

Nutrition for the race: $139.85

New pair of shoes: $89.95

Negative-splitting the marathon at IM Wisconsin: priceless!

Thanks for reading,
TriHeart

The Run: patience and hope finally pay off.

“I can run a faster marathon off the bike than cold." ~Peter Reid

Unbuckling my bike shoes, there’s a volunteer pointing at me, and my feet hit the ground, wearing only socks. Up to that point, that was the best feeling I had all day. Steady legs that felt strong, just rode 112 miles and felt almost fresh as a daisy.

Turned in a more respectable T2 of 5 minutes. Little sunscreen here, little dab there, and we’re off. Took the first few strides of a run, and I knew it was going to be a good one. You know the way you feel on the first run after a recovery week, like your muscles are made of springs? Yeah, well, I didn’t quite feel that good, but pretty close. Let’s go eat up the miles.

Running strong, striding proud

The plan: spend the first 16-20 miles in 130’s HR, just cruising, then pick it up at the end. Alternate at aid stations: 1 gel at one, then 2 eCaps at the next. Must have worked. Had plenty in the tank, and enough muscular strength to pick it up during the last 10k.

Kept looking at my watch: 4:30, then 5:00, and I started cheering. Come on! Let’s go! I’m sure spectators thought I was motivating myself. If you guys could hear me, I was cheering everyone who was still on the bike course. Come on guys, you can make it, the run’s this way!

The crowds were awesome. Running around the capitol was awesome. Everything about the run was awesome. I enjoyed this marathon a whole lot more than any of the stand-alone marathons I’ve done before, no lie.

Encouragement from my sweetie on the run

My sight was quickly coming back, and with it, I started to recognize people I knew. First, Jetpack on the first loop, and Triboomer, Bolder, and Brett on the second. Finally, IronWil, right after the motivational mile. Wil, you did us all proud. Also, many thanks to Coach Adam, an A #1 run motivator. In short, all you guys rock, and I’m honored to share the same course with all of you. Peace and much love to you all.

I’ve never had a runner’s high, not once. The endorphins are there, just don’t give me a high (never done drugs, which is beside the point, but don’t think it’s a coincidence). For the last 7 miles of the marathon, it was one long runner’s high. At mile nineteen, it was time to hit the NOS, light the afterburners, and really run. Did just that. Never walked another aid station after that, and ran all the hills. Felt like I was floating. Ironmanlive says I passed 450 people on the run. Felt like I passed them all in the last 6 miles.

"Just show me the capitol! Just show me the capitol!" The thought kept running through my mind as the minutes ticked by and the sky began to darken. Before I knew it, there it was, all lit up. I know it’s crazy, but I didn’t want the run to end.

But, just as all bad things pass, all good things must come to an end. The finish line was amazing. You felt like a rock star, hell, you were, if only for one finishing chute. That night was magical.

After the race, I had my eye checked out, just to be safe. They couldn’t stick an IV in it, so they sent me on my way and told me to go to the eye doc. Then it was bike checkout, a shower, and back to the finish line.

The finisher’s chute was electric. What a magical way to end the day! Saw Pharmie and IronWil bring it home, made tons of noise, and saw Frank Farrar finish in truly iron-style. This picture says it all.

Wish I had the words to describe the whole day; the only ones that come to mind are this: Pure Joy!

Cheers,
TriHeart

The Bike: one eye on the road, one eye in the clouds.

Is it to the sky
Looking to the sky and down

Searching for a ground

With my good eye closed

~Soundgarden "With My Good Eye Closed"

Coasted down the helix and tried to get to Verona without wrecking…mission accomplished. After drinking water for 20 minutes, it was somewhere on the road to Verona that my stomach came right.
Heart rate: check, stomach: check, leg muscles: check…
…but my right eye still had some nasty eyeboogers in it from the swim. Hmmm.

Beep, beep, beep, as everyone passes me by. The “heart patient” zone alarm on my HRM reigns me in on the rollers, but I re-pass most of them on the subsequent downhills, sans pedaling. Smooth pedaling, calm demeanor, the first lap of the bike went by without much more drama.

Main Street, Verona, thousands of screaming ironfans. Way cool. Might as well soak it up. I had scarfed my first nutrition bottle in the first 40 miles of the bike, save the last 2 scoops of powder permanently stuck to the bottom of the bottle. No amount of banging and shaking knocked it loose. Concrete doesn’t set up that well.

Saw this sight once, too bad it was on my first loop, they were on their second.

And soak up the energy I did. The plan, mix my second bottle of nutrition before the special needs bags. If everything went well, skip special needs and keep rollin’. So, right in the middle of the Main Street aid station, I pull over, my kinda wet bar. A couple minutes later, I’m double-fisted, two bottles of double-strength Sustained Energy. Shaken, not stirred.

But something was still off, what the…

The next five miles was freakout time. It was when I was stopped at the aid station that I noticed I couldn’t see out of my right eye. Got back on the bike and got moving and investigated my situation. Closed my right eye, everything’s fine. Close my left, and I’m looking through a frosted window, save the corner. It must be my glasses, they’re fogged up. Take my glasses off, and the full weight of my situation hit me:

“I can’t see out of my right eye! Holy sh…t! I’m doing 45mph down a hill and I can’t see out of my right eye. With only one eye, you have no depth perception. What am I doing on a bike?!?”

It’s a good thing you can’t draft on the bike leg…

Right eye: “Houston, we have a problem. We’ve lost 75% of our field of vision. It’s like a heavy fog you can’t see through, like frosted glass, like…”
Memory: “…or like Vaseline has been smeared over your eye?” (recounting the words of Dr. A, describing what it looks like when they peel the flap back during LASIK)
Right eye: “…yeah, like Vaseline smeared over your eye. That’s it exactly!”
Nagging little voice: “That’s it, your goggles were too tight on the swim, and you went and screwed up your LASIK. We paid thousands of dollars for that, and we screwed it up during a measly 2 mile swim!”
Body: “This is not happening.”
Nagging little voice: “Shouldn’t we stop for medical?”
Body: “Here? In the middle of all these cows? We’ve cycled for over 3 hours with no ill effects. And what if we do stop? And what if there’s something truly wrong? And what if we get pulled from the course? And what if we find out we can never do triathlons again? Do you want a DNF to be your last triathlon, without ever finishing an ironman? Huh?
Nagging little voice: (silent for the rest of the day).

I haven’t heard that nagging little voice since. As far as I know, it’s still somewhere on Garfoot Road. The rest of the bike was surreal. Upped the heart rate to zone 2, attack the hills with a little more gusto, eat and drink, eat and drink.

On the second climb, on the second loop, probably in second gear, I noticed something…

MY VISION’S GETTING BETTER!

Climbing through the tunnel of people on that climb, I noticed I could see more of the people to my right. (Cue the happy music now)

For the last 2 hours of the bike and the first half of the marathon, my vision gradually improved back to normal. This was a good thing, made running in the fading light much easier, but I’ll save that part of the story. The rest of the bike was sheer bliss. My stomach didn’t feel the greatest, but I’ve felt much worse in training. It was happy times on the way back from Verona.

One final note, an apology. I know I passed (or was passed by) many from the raceAthlete tribe. I apologize for not being more friendly. You see, I couldn’t SEE, so I had to remedy my apparent aloofness on the run.

The Swim: Shades of Green

“You will hit a bad patch” -Paula Newby-Fraser at the welcome dinner

First loop, smooth sailing. Where was the washing machine? I kept wondering, I never found it. Stroke-stroke-stroke, breathe, stroke-stroke-stroke, sight/look for draft/breathe. Smooth as silk, hopped from feet to feet the entire first loop. To the woman with the super-smooth swim style and very little kick when sighting, thanks a bunch.

Second loop, things went south in a hurry. Rounded the start line and started to feel sick stomach…

Wait, let me back up a minute. My last long pool swim August, I got sick. I didn’t have enough calories. Had 3 shots of Hammer gel afterwards and felt great. Wanted to make sure I had enough to eat prerace, hence the 1000cals of Boost/Perpetuem, followed by 300cals of Sustained Energy, followed by 3 gels 15 minutes before the race.

…so, I’m halfway through the second loop, and I feel ready to hurl. Must have been a little too much before the race, even if I did respect the 3 hour window. The only, only, only time I even considered quitting was during the swim…

Body: stroke-stroke-stroke, breathe, repeat, repeat, repeat…
Stomach: "I think I’m going to throw up"
Nagging little voice: "we’re already sick in the first 2 miles of the race. It’s going to be a long, looong day, we’re never going to make it sick like this. We should just quit right now."
Body: "we’re in the middle of a lake, a half mile from shore. Quitting right now is not an option. I’m going to get us to shore, then we can worry about the rest of the day."
Stomach: "Ok, but can we at least slow down? By the way, are we there yet?"

And slow down I did. I think Frank Farrar passed me on the swim about then, along with everyone else. Every stroke was a balancing act between propulsion and expulsion. The taste of lake water was replaced with bile.

Stomach: “Are we there yet?”

That last 1000 meters was the worst part of the day for me, without a doubt. You hear accounts like “I felt so bad on the bike that I couldn’t wait to start running.” Not for me, it was the last 30 minutes of the swim.

“this too shall pass”
A big, burly volunteer hauled me out of the lake at the ramp, all three shades of green and ready to hurl, but the swim was over. I’ve never been so happy to see the wetsuit strippers in all my life. The only problem was, didn’t feel like getting up off the ground after they yanked my wetsuit off. Well, a nice walk and some fresh air would do me some good. I walked the entire T1, mostly out of necessity for my stomach, but also because the ball of my right foot still ached. Fumbled around in T1 (for 15 minutes, ouch!) and emerged ready for a bike.

It was then that I met Jenny. “No, I’m not the Chris you met at Wildflower,” I reply in a green-eyed stupor. Thanks for the sunscreen, though.

Race Day

1:36am…no alarm, no sounds, save the street below. Snapped awake from a dream I’ll never remember, I realize it’s race day. I shuffle to the bathroom to take care of business, just like every night. I had hoped to wake up between 2 and 3, because prerace nutrition plan A was to wake around 2:30, consume 3 Boosts and 2 scoops Perpetuem in a shaker and fall back asleep until 5am. If you read my previous post, you know I didn’t fall back asleep.

Plan B for nutrition at 4am was drink 3 scoops Sustained Energy in water at 4am when my first alarm went off. If I’d had the 2am meal, I’d turn off the 4am alarm and sleep until 5am. Well, it was a good plan, at least. I was awake at 4, so decided to eat the 2nd meal as well.

So, from 2:30 to 5am I debated one last decision: regular or aero helmet on the bike? I had visions of my August long ride that ended in disaster. Aero helmet, 104 degree heat index, and antibiotics definitely don’t mix. But this was in Wisconsin, and the high was only supposed to be 72. Finally decided to go aero after checking the weather one last time. Then it was time to get dressed and head to Monona Terrace.

“How’s everyone doing?” asks another to-be ironman on the elevator ride to the lobby. After the usual responses are exchanged, the guy making the original inquiry responds: “well, I’m so scared I could sh…t my pants!” We had a chuckle after he was out of earshot.

“Everything we do we gotta come original Put your hands up in the air and prepare for battle”
This is the only song I remember hearing before the race, save AC~DC’s “Thunderstruck” as they fired the cannon. I’ve since dredged it from my iTunes collection and listened to it a dozen times in the past week. The rest of prerace was a blur with body marking, bike checking, gear bag dropping, and treading water.
“Sit upon the rhythm like a tire upon a rim We do it non-stop and then we do it again”

So, the cannon sounds. I wasn’t prepared for what transpired next, but not in the way you would think. I spent the rest of the morning undoing the ill effects of the swim.

Build Up: The end, or just the beginning?

First, and most important, shown above is what I saw on the way in to Madison. The pic doesn’t do justice to one of the most beautiful, full, double rainbows we saw driving in. Drove right through it while passing Verona. I’m not a very superstitious person, but I took that as a sign. I didn’t fully comprehend what I was seeing until I got to IM village, and the welcoming gate was a full double rainbow. Knew it was going to be a good race. Now, let me back up a little.

Thursday, woke up way too early and did an easy brick before packing, then drove to Madison through toad-strangling rains. What made it worth it was the double rainbow welcoming us to Madison.

Friday, off day. Again, woke up way too early. It was like the timer on your stove…click-click, click-click, six hours and ding! It’s 3:30 and time to get up! Nerves, I guess. Drove the bike course, registered, and took care of formalities. Highlight of my day was that evening, when I finally got to meet Tracy, Stu, etc in person. Had a great welcome dinner after that, save the "mandatory" athlete meeting. Then it was to bed early, and…

Saturday, ding! 4:30 and time to get up. Easy brick and a “Zen swim” to start the day, met Steve in a Speedo and Pharmie (had a great swim, very smooth and just right). Then the rest was a blur with bag packing, bike check, and 3 hours of the Discovery Channel.

After getting up off the couch to go to church, I noticed that my right foot was hurting, and I later deduced that I bruised it walking in my bike shoes (my shoes rarely come unclipped from my bike). The conversation in my head went something like this:

Nagging little voice in the back of head: You know, you will have to run a marathon on that foot…

Body: Shut uuuuup!

NLV: It’s probably a stress fracture. You shouldn't have tried those Newton’s yesterday.

Body: You’re not helping!

NLV: Did I mention you have to run a marathon on tired legs tomorrow?

Body: Yeah, but first, we’ve got a 2.4 mile swim and a 112 mile bike ride. It’ll be 8 non-weight-bearing-hours before we even have to worry about that.

(Conversation ended. Score one for Body.)

Ended the day in church and met Steve and Pharmie again, and it was cool to worship with them. Honest guys, I go to church every Sunday, not just before partaking in a sport where people have been known to drown! Then it was dinner and bed.

Mark Allen says in “What It Takes” that the difference in the most elite athletes and other professionals is the mental and emotional strength, not physical. As I was lying in bed, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings, trying to go back to sleep, I experienced it first hand. Half of me was nervous (will I finish?) and the other half was psyched (bring it on!), and neither half felt like sleeping.

Next…race day,
TriHeart