Exceeding My Own Expectations

November 10 , 2008

As I nervously fidgeted with my bike in transition two hours from the start of the race I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking. The day that I had been working toward for almost a full year had finally arrived.

I arrived in Florida three days early to get myself situated and get in my final workouts before my wife and a good friend arrived. Two days before the race I headed out for an early morning Gatorade swim and found myself standing motionless, mouth agape staring at the buoys for the swim course barely visible out in the Gulf. Realizing I’d have to swim that loop twice made me feel so small I actually fell to a sitting position and put my head in my hands.

Feeling small would be a reoccurring theme throughout the days leading to the race. Everything was bigger at the IM scene – the transition, athletes, and lines. It was intimidating.

The night before the race I went out for an early dinner with my wife and good friend and tried to stay in the flow of conversation, but my thoughts were already on the race. Worn out from thinking too much I got in to bed early and waited for the alarm. After a good night’s sleep I got up and made my way to transition with the throngs of athletes. Realizing I’d soon be in the water with all these people blew me away since we were basically side stepping each other on our way to body marking.

After some nervous fidgeting at the bike I climbed into the wetsuit and struck up a conversation with another athlete. He obviously new I was a first timer by my nervous chatter. He told me flat out no matter what you do to just take a minute during the race to look around and take it all in because it goes by fast. With a goal time of 12 hours I didn’t believe him but. I promised I would.

As I made my way onto the beach hundreds of spectators had already started assembling around the swim corral and you could feel the energy. The music blared and I put on the swim cap, goggles and hit the water for a warm up. Back on the beach I seeded myself to the right and in the middle of the 2300 athletes and readied myself for a beating. The pros went off and the before I knew it they started counting down from 30 seconds. The cannon went off and I dove into the water.

For the first 10 minutes I was sandwiched comfortably between two swimmers. Midway to the first turn I got my first drubbing. I swam into the pack ahead of me which allowed the pack behind me to come over the top. I stayed calm, got some clear water and settled in. As I neared the first turn buoy I got pummeled again, but it quickly dispersed and I made my way to the next turn. As I neared the beach and scrapped my fingers on the bottom I stood up for the short beach run and had a moment of disappointment. The clock read 43 minutes. Doing fuzzy math I realized I was on pace for a 1.5 hour swim. I tried not to be discouraged because it was a long day. The next lap was uneventful and I almost missed not being kicked or bumped. I found clear water and good feet the whole way around and came out of the water at 1:08. I was pumped and had a feeling this might be a good day.

Swim: 1:08
A quick strip of the wetsuit and I was in the steamy chaotic transition tent. I slapped on my helmet, glasses and shoes and ran out to get the bike. Now I felt like I was in control. I always freak out about the swim but now with my bike under me I felt like my day had begun.

Making my way out through the crowds of spectators I quickly found my legs and washed all the salt out my mouth. It was in the 50s and cold with an annoying wind, but I couldn’t be happier to be out of the water. As I hit the first stretch of the course my legs never felt so good. I was holding about 20 mph in the wind and my HR was tracking right at 145, my target for the entire ride. Max told me the first half of the bike would be a bike race and I’d be passed by about 100 bikers, but that I needed to sit back and stay with in myself. It was hard to see about 50 guys zip by, but I kept to my pace. At mile 20 a peloton came up on me. I had to slow up to not get pinched for drafting. Pissed because my HR was under 145, I made my way out to the yellow line and hammered pass to get space. I settled back in and let the HR drop back to target. I focused on my nutrition - three gels per hour and two salt tabs at the top of each hour. The peloton caught me again at mile 40 and I had to hammer to get clear. I made it to the special needs station around mile 50 and refilled on gels and scarfed down half a peanut butter sandwich. Getting back on the road I peed on the bike which was good since I knew my hydration was on target if I had the urge every two hours.

After the special needs station I got to work. Without a headwind I was averaging around 23 mph. On a short out and back I saw the pros coming back and realized I was having a pretty good first half of the bike. Making the turn over the timing mat, I got into a nice groove averaging between 22 - 24 mph all the way to the 90 mile mark. I started thinking about how fast the day was going, but quickly stopped myself fearing I might jinx the day. Instead I focused on a steady cadence, my HR, and nutrition. I also made it a point to thank volunteers and say hi to everyone I passed. I started getting some funny looks from people at the 100 mile on my hello streak. These were the folks that raced the first half and were now paying for it. I was just finding my groove and felt ridiculously fresh. Before I knew it I was headed back into town. I got out of my aero bars and stretch my back and legs to get ready for the run. As I neared the transition I slipped out my shoes, cruised down the chute and handed my bike off to a volunteer. I couldn’t get over how fresh my legs felt.

Bike: 5:10
I made my way to the transition tent and shed my bike gear. A volunteer came over and dumped my bag out on the floor right into all the athlete slop. I thanked him and laughed. I put on my visor, grabbed my gels and salt and hit the porta john. Making my way out to the run course I finally saw the clock. The whole day I had no idea of my time. On the swim, my watch was reset after someone jacked me. On the bike I reset it after bumping my aero bars. I looked up and saw the time at 6:36. I told myself that couldn’t be right and quickly put it out my mind. Halfway down the chute I heard my wife and stopped to give her a quick kiss.

For the run my HR target was 145. The first three miles I was at 150 and putting down 7:30s. I backed it down to 145 and quickened my stride. At mile four I realized I had my sunglasses on and started cursing myself. What a fool! There’s no way you’re finishing before the sun goes down! I kept thinking of where I would store them so I could see in the dark. After my little fight with myself I realized I was at mile 6 and holding eight minute miles. I started taking cola and water at this point and took salt every three miles. My turnover was good with some pain in the knees, but it was manageable. I continued to thank volunteers and kept my mind quiet. I made my way back in to town and hit the turn. One more lap and I would be an Ironman.

On the second lap I started to feel a blister develop on the bottom of my right foot. At mile 16 my HR was dropping 145 and I found my mind drifting. I’d catch myself and bump it back up quickly. Now more people were on the run course and I found myself trying not to look at the walkers. I was steady and strong to the turn. I figured I’d let it got at mile 22. So when I got to the aid station I grabbed water, cola and started to pick up the pace. Feeling some cramping I reached for salt, but was out. I scanned the ground the next mile and found two on the ground. At mile 23 I took the salt and started tuning everything else out. I tried like hell to pick up the pace but couldn’t get the HR over 150.

At mile 25 I started grunting and forcing myself to go faster. I pictured the last mile on my long 4 am runs back home. I told myself you only need to get to garage. I rounded the bend and hit the crowds and took my minute to take it all in. Grunting, I could hardly hear the cheering. I saw the outlines of the finish line and couldn’t believe it. The clock read 10:11:34. I then heard that long-awaited voice - Gary Griffin, a first timer from Bloomfield Connecticut, you’re an Ironman! To finish off the day my wife and I went back to the finish line two hours before midnight to witness the even tougher Ironman finishing their day. Truly inspiring.

Run: 3:44
So many things went right on Nov. 1. When I started this journey I had a goal time of 12 hours. To see the clock at 10:11 was a special moment. All the endless laps, long rides and runs paid off and I was able to enjoy the day. There are so many people to thank for this incredible journey. First, I couldn’t be more thankful for a supportive wife. Being a patient newlywed she put up with my cranky tapers, endless training, obsessing and nerves. I now owe her my undivided attention. Thanks honey!

And I would have never had such a day with out the coaching of Max Wunderle. I’m very thankful to Max for the opportunity to share this journey with his community and to receive his coaching services. With his coaching I made athletic gains that I never thought possible. It’s a testament to him how prepared and focused I was for this race. In addition, I’ve had finishes at races this year that I never could’ve imagined. He’s a hell of a guy and his main goal is getting his athletes to reach their full potential. He’s made me a smarter and much better triathlete in the process. I look forward to working with him again on my next journey at IMCDA in June.

Keep on keeping on.

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Final Tune Up

September 15 , 2008

The last couple of weeks have been great. I’ve gotten in some good workouts, finalized all my travel plans and am now preparing to race in my second half IM this weekend.

This weekend’s race will be the final tune up. I’m really itching to race. I passed on a couple local sprints, one that’s a personal favorite, to get in some big workouts. It’s hard passing on a favorite race, but I made up for it by reaching a personal milestone on a big ride up in the Berkshires this past weekend.

In the spring I went out with Max on one of his big training days. We headed out for a ride out to the Berkshires, where the climbing gets ridiculous. That day Max pulled a super human feat by riding one of the steepest climbs I’ve ever encountered twice. I nearly blacked out riding it once. After witnessing that I set a goal for myself to get it twice before IM Florida. This weekend I got it twice and rode the rest of the route that includes 5,000+ feet of climbing in relative comfort. This was a huge step for me, but Max keeps moving the bar. He climbed it three times not too long ago.

I still have some lingering thoughts about Timberman and I’m hoping to rid my mind of them with a solid performance at this last half IM. It will be a day to test my nutrition strategy, HR targets and really push myself, maybe even more than I did at Timberman. It’s nice when you race with a bigger goal in mind.  I’m taking every precaution to keep myself and my bike in good working order.

Keep on keeping on.

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"You Sound Like You’re Going To Cry"

September 06 , 2008

I’ve found myself in a rut the last week. It started with one missed workout and then work pressures led to a couple more. I’m trying to stay positive about it, but since I’ve become a bit obsessive about my training, it’s hard to not be down about it.

The only thing I could do to dig myself out was to call Max. I’ve found that beyond structuring your workouts, providing key HR targets, offering positive or constructive feedback, coaches also serve as part-time psychologists.

Max has infectious energy that always seems keep you on track and most importantly stop you from feeling sorry for yourself. I’ve been a little bit of a whiner lately, and you’ve probably noticed it too. It’s a pretty common thread running through my last few blog posts. I’ve even received some ‘hang in there’ emails from a few readers, which I thank you for and totally appreciate. Don’t worry this post will end positively.

So I called Max and the conversation went something like this: “Hey Max, what’s going on?” I said. “Are you alright? You sound like you’re going to cry,” he laughed.  I went on to tell him about a litany of things – sleeping in, bagged workouts, nerves about the IM distance, and my lack of motivation. “Welcome to the challenge of Ironman training,” he said. “You’ve been at it since January with hardly any rest. Gary, it’s normal man, chill out! I’ve been there and so has everyone else that trains for this distance. If you don’t think you’re on track go back and look at all the workouts you’ve done.”

After more uplifting conversation about race results, big training days and how a missed workout wasn’t going to sink my goal to have a good IM – boy was this comforting - I was feeling good again. If it wasn’t pitch dark outside, I might have gone out and rode for another two hours. The next day I was up and shockingly awake at 4:30 am and out on a dark road.

It’s certainly nice to have someone to call on and talk about my highs and lows during this whole experience. I’ve found that the people closest to you can’t relate, partly because they think you’re a nut. It’s more than just brick and swim workouts. I guess I can’t express the importance of having a coach. Some go without and find success, but with my schedule and makeup I need someone there to kick me when I start feeling sorry for myself and keep me focused on the end challenge. 

Keep on keeping on.

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Timberman…The Race That Wasn’t

September 01 , 2008

Sitting on the guardrail with my helmet in my hands and staring at my flat rear tubular, I tried to keep my emotions in check as all the riders I move through the first 36 miles tore past me.

Up to this point everything had been going better than planned. I had a solid swim and when I got on my bike I never felt so good. I had strict orders from Max to keep my HR at 155 and to not exceed that number. The first 20 miles I was moving past riders, including many in my age group with ease. I couldn’t believe how easy the pedals were turning. My heart rate, cadence and nutrition were totally dialed. I hit the turn faster than last year and started to head home. My legs had even more pop at the turn and I moved through a stiff headwind with little problem.

At this point I actually started thinking I could go under five hours if I put down a solid run. As soon as I moved off that thought I started to feel the road more on my back wheel. I looked down to see that my tubular had gone soft. I screamed NO skyward and hoped off to see the damage. I cracked a CO2 into the tire and it held air, now there was hope. I hoped back on and road for a mile before it deflated again. I had thoughts of riding it in on the rim but the bike got all lose in the rear. How could this be happening? I don’t carry a spare tubular because there’s absolutely no chance I could change one. I sometimes carry a spare for show, but this time I decided to leave it in transition. I pulled off the road and tried to keep myself from tossing my bike in the ravine. I looked at my watch and saw my amazing day slipping away.

After about five minutes I flagged down a support vehicle. The guy pulled over and pumped it up and I tried to ride again but it wouldn’t stay inflated. He told me to flag down the yellow Mavic car because they had extra wheels. I waited and waited sitting on the guard rail trying to keep it all in perspective. It was hard, real hard as people flew past and there was no yellow car in sight. Finally after about 10 minutes, he came by and I flagged him down. I could’ve kissed this guy. He gave me a wheel and I was off to salvage what I could of the day.

Back on the bike with about 20 to go I trashed my nutrition and HR plan and started riding out the rest of the course in the big ring. I moved past riders and hammered the down hills, finally making my way into transition in 2:54.

I fought hard to get the flat out of my head as I started the run and it took all that I could to stick to my plan for the run – 162 HR the first loop and if I felt good let it go on the second. My legs felt great off the bike and I was holding 165 for 7:15 at the first mile. If I could hold that pace I could still reach my goal of five hours. I was moving through runners at a good clip and taking salt where ever I could find it as I started to cramp up. After the first loop I realized that 5 hours wasn’t going to be possible. I pushed harder the second loop and finished the run in 1:43. I crossed the line without a smile for a total time of 5:17.

This race meant a lot to me. It was my first half last year and I had big plans this year. It was to be the only long distance race that I would race since I’m just hoping to finish IM Florida. Looking back there were some huge gains. The flat took me off the road for about 20 minutes but I still finished 15 minutes faster than last year. The worst part about this day was my selfish attitude. I do this for fun, but after the flat all the fun was gone and I became totally self absorbed and I’m not happy about it. Athletes were thanking volunteers and chatting up teammates on the run and I usually do the same, but not today. I turned into someone I’m not at this race and it was all because of my inability to maintain a properly functioning bike. I took a stupid risk and not carry a spare, and to add to the stupid factor, I didn’t know how to properly service my bike.

Lesson learned.

Keep on keeping on.

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Tired

August 15 , 2008

I’m tired. Deep bone type of tired. Short fused and irritable tired. The type of tired where you question your commitment and second guess that decision you made to enter an Ironman distance race.

I’ve pretty much been in constant motion. Early morning work outs, long workdays and back to training during the evenings. Weekends are spent in the saddle, cresting hill after hill only to find another waiting on the other side. Long runs on empty and dark roads. More time than you wish to be away from your family.

Chalk it up to inexperience, or being a relative newbie, but it’s taken me a while to finally realize that this sport requires patience. It’s made me really respect the veterans that have been at this game for years, and even more impressive is that they are still placing in the top 10 and winning their age groups. It’s really incredible considering the time, energy and sacrifices that need to be made to maintain that type of consistency.

With all the work I’ve put in their certainly have been positives. They just don’t come to mind much when you start the initial ascent of that first hill on your long weekend ride. First, nothing is more satisfying than finishing a really hard workout that you were dreading all week long. Second, seeing the results of all the chronic tiredness, moodiness and time spent alone on the roads is a huge confidence booster.

Last week I raced in a local sprint triathlon after putting in my most challenging workout the day before - four hours riding over the Berkshires on the bike followed by a long run. It’s the first time I’ve flirted with the dreaded bonk. Needless to say, I was cursing Max the whole time. The cursing continued throughout the entire race the next day, but quickly stopped after I crossed the line nearly nine minutes faster than the last time I raced the course, good for 16th overall.

Max doesn’t allow you to smile too long though, and now I’m back into another heavy week of training before a long-awaited taper. You’ve probably heard people say the ‘Hay is in the Barn’ when they’re about to taper for a priority race. I always thought that was pretty clever until I started filling my own. I’ve got a lot of room left.

Keep on keeping on.

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Refocus

August 04 , 2008

The last couple of weeks have been focused on life milestones. My wife Jen and I were married at the end of June and then spent 11 days in sunny Aruba for our long awaited honeymoon. The wedding and the honeymoon couldn’t have been better. Like training for an Ironman we put in a year of planning with highs and lows, but were rewarded with a very special and unforgettable day. I’m hopeful the same occurs on November 1.

So now I’m back to work and focused on this year’s next big goal. Re-entry from the mellow and laid back island of the Aruba was tough and thankfully Max didn’t allow me to wallow in my time in paradise. The most difficult adjustment has to be the early morning swims. It’s not easy to get back in a chlorinated pool after 11 days of early sunrise swims in the warm Carribean.

In my first week back I competed in a tough Olympic distance race in the hills of Connecticut. I put down a really solid time and improved by more than 13 minutes from the previous year. The even better news is that I put in a hard week of training including a huge ride the day before the race. I’m a little shocked at my fitness levels and even noticing a transformation in my body’s composition.

At this point in my training, after having considerable improvements in race performance from last year, I’m finding I have to stop myself from doing too much. I catch myself thinking that an extra hour on the bike will allow me to shave off two more minutes. Or maybe if I extend my brick workout I’ll take a little more of my run times. I know this will ultimately lead to burnout, overtraining and derail my plans for IMFL. It’s a constant battle of feeling under prepared or on track.

Over the next couple of weeks I’ve got a sprint and then a half ironman which is an A priority race. I’m headed up to Timberman where I hope to actually race instead of just trying to finish like last year. I had a respectable time there last year, but with all the work I’ve put in, I’m hoping for a good result. For this race I get to taper, which I welcome, although I like having those long workouts the day before races as a mental crutch.

Keep on keeping on.

Gary

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Mental Games

June 16 , 2008

Triathlon is hard. It’s not like I didn’t know this, but after training for six plus months you tend to forget what it’s like mentally when you have to turn on the switch to race.

I finally got to turn on the switch in back to back weekends at a local sprint and Olympic distance race. Leading up to the race I couldn’t wait to see where my fitness level was after putting in all the time and suffering through cold rides and runs in the dead of winter. Add the recent heavy training weeks prescribed by Max, and I was chomping at the bit to just compete.

I didn’t have major expectations leading into the races, but let’s face it I was hoping to see the results of all work. As you know we make huge sacrifices to train, spend absurd amounts of money on equipment, and pass on delicious foods all to shave a few minutes off our times. The one thing I forget about is how much of a mental game triathlon becomes when you have to flip the switch.

I think Gordo Byrn said it best in a recent interview with Max, “Very few people are able to race at a level above their training performance.” After my last two races I’m now working to become one of the few. I’ve got some work to do.

In my first race I witnessed the payoff of all the training. I placed in my age group and missed the top 10 by only a second. Max asked me if I left it all out there as I should be doing in these “tests” and I had to think hard. Thinking back I remember the mental games I was playing with myself. “Should I be pushing harder? Yes, but this is comfortable. Can I push a bigger gear? Yes, but this is good for now.” So even though I had a solid result, I didn’t go to that “dark place” I’ve experienced in some of my training.

The second race was good, but I had to look hard to see where I made strides because my overall time didn’t make me all too happy. After a really poor swim the mental games started. Instead of staying comfortable, I tried to get “dark” and ended up having a good bike and put down my fastest 10k ever. Let’s face it, I’m never going to win a race and placing near the top in races with competitive fields is even more crazy talk.

So after all the training and a good first race I started getting ahead of myself and losing sight of what’s really important - November 1, 2008. That’s all I need to be concerned about and these tests are stepping stones to that day. For one thing I can’t wait to race on fresh legs. The thought of that alone has me refocused on Florida. Right now Max has me putting in huge brick workouts and long runs the day before races. I didn’t even think I’d be able to wake up in time to make it to the race after putting in these workouts. But after having success on tired legs I now see what he’s up to and it’s all about taking the mental games out of it and building the confidence in me to tackle Florida.

It’s now break time for me. My wedding is this coming weekend and then we’re off on our honeymoon. I’ll still be putting in an hour a day, but it will be on the beautiful beaches and in the surf of Aruba. The only mental games will be trying to decide between windsurfing and kite boarding, flip flops or shoes and what restaurant to hit.

Keep on keeping on.

Gary

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According to Plan

June 1 , 2008

I’m into my third week of my Ironman plan. It’s a bit of a surprise to me, but I haven’t missed a workout. As you know, this is a small victory in itself. Sure, I’ve had to put in a few hour long runs at 10 pm, but for the most part I’ve been on schedule. Work, wedding plans, and life in general have cooperated. I say it this way because we all know the plan takes precedence.

The plan has become our fourth family member. It’s a living breathing thing in our household. Nothing can be agreed upon or setup until we consult with the plan. It makes for some terse conversations at times, but the plan usually wins out. I have to consult the plan daily for my workouts because the only days I can recall are my off days.

Over the last three weeks I’ve put in 37 hours of training. I just came off my biggest week of 13 hours and I feel a bit roasted. The week included a huge ride with Max on Memorial Day, and then I spent the rest of the week just trying to catch my breath and trying to get the feeling back in my legs. The ride included 6,000 feet of climbing and was followed by a run. For me, this workout was an eye opener for two reasons. First, it was no doubt the toughest most demanding workout I’ve ever done. Second, I witnessed what it truly takes to be competitive in this sport.

After some serious climbs we came up on one monster that was laughable. I mean just straight up steepness. The type of climb where if you hesitate in your pedal stroke for a split second, you fall over.  Max was in the saddle for nearly the entire climb while I was just trying to turn over the pedals. I got serious tunnel vision and found myself just trying to keep my breakfast down. After I neared the top and got my vision back I thought I was delirious when I heard Max say, “Keep going, I’m going to do it again.”  You couldn’t have paid me enough.

Witnessing that made me think Max is not human, but more importantly during the week ahead I recalled that moment and workout when I was pissed at the plan for marshalling me out for just a 60 minute ride.

Over the next two weeks I have two races and I’m excited to see the result of all the training and sacrifices over the last six months. It’s a sprint and Olympic which still get my nerves up, but I’m going to try and treat them as catered training days. Then it’s nuptials on the 21st and then we break free from our volatile fourth family member for 11 days as we head off to Aruba. I don’t need to consult the plan to find out what’s on tap for those days. I’m pretty sure Kiteboarding is good for your core, right Max?

Keep on keeping on.

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Mental Preparation

May 18 , 2008

Hello my name is Gary Griffin and this is my journey to Ironman Florida. I recently started working with Max Wunderle who asked me to chronicle my journey to my first Ironman. I agreed, adding another item to my growing list of commitments for 2008.

Like you, I have the regular commitments that include a stressful career, family obligations and whatever else fills my day. This year I’m getting married in June and I decided to throw in my first Ironman to keep it interesting. And I couldn’t be more excited for both of these major milestones, but one keeps me up at night and it’s not the nuptials.

In November 2007 I signed up for Ironman Florida 2008. I was so focused on actually getting into the race - spending hours in front of the computer clicking the register now button waiting to be brought to that magical registration page - that after I clicked submit had I truly realized what I’d done. The thought of completing a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run made me question if I had made the right decision. It’s something that continues to pop in my mind every time the alarm goes off at 4:45 am, on long training rides or when I have to turndown an invite to happy hour because I have to put in a long pool session.

I’ve been competing in triathlons for the last two years. I found the sport after trying to find something to satisfy my desire to compete. I’ve been an athlete my whole life and was fortunate enough to play collegiate sports. After college, I started focusing on my career, but something was obviously missing. I played beer league softball and men’s league soccer, but just couldn’t stay interested. I ran a few road races, but never truly committed. It wasn’t until I purchased my first road bike that I got the idea to give triathlon a try. After the first race, which was full of blunders, I got hooked.

Over the last two years I’ve done sprint and Olympic distance races and last August finished my first half ironman. In preparation for Ironman Florida, I completed my first marathon in March and have been logging training hours since January 1. It hasn’t been easy with work, wedding planning and regular life issues, but I’m doing my best to keep at it mostly out of fear of being under prepared for what will be very long day on November 2. My goal is the finish line and Max has put together a plan that fits my busy schedule and has me ticking off distances and workouts that will get my body ready for the long haul. Like everything it all looks good on paper, but who can predict when you’re going to fall ill, pull up lame with an injury, get hit with work and family commitments,  or just lose focus and want to mail it in?

Over the next six months I’ll be writing about how much I hate or love my training plan, can’t stomach another gel, feel confident or am totally freaking out about competing in such a grueling event, did well or stunk up the many races I have planned, how my family and friends think I’m boring and nuts at the same time, and how much I miss my soon to be wife Jen and two year old golden retriever Brody.

It’s sure to be an interesting six months and right now it doesn’t seem like there is enough time in each day to do what I have to but I’m committed. Many people have told me, and it’s a standard cliché, it’s not the destination but the journey and that’s what I hope to share with the Trimax community. Perhaps sharing my highs and lows and many frustrations will keep me motivated on the end goal.

Keep on keeping on.

Gary Griffin

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