Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay - 1/30/16

*Fire Emoji*

When Mark, owner of Fleet Feet Brookfield, asked me if I wanted to join the Fleet Feet Racing Team in their attempt for the dub at the Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay, I blindly yet eagerly accepted.

My ignorant enthusiasm quickly turned to apprehension, then to dread, as it soon dawned on me what we would be attempting. I hadn’t run on an indoor track since my IWU days, and those weren’t necessarily pleasant memories. On top of that, we’d be attempting a pace that I’d normally struggle to maintain for 2 miles; with 4 of us going for 26.2, that would mean I’d likely expect to run a total of 6ish miles at that pace. Woof.

~

The morning of the Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay had me up well before dawn, as technically I was also working this event (did I mention I have the coolest job in the world?). Chugging coffee, fitting runners in Hokas, drinking coffee, selling shoes, sipping coffee, chatting with runners, and downing some more coffee, I spent the better part of the morning fulfilling my duties as local HOKA ONE ONE tech rep while internally fReAkInG oUt about my impending doom, drowning that fear with probably-way-too-much coffee.

I had no idea who the other 3 members of my team were, only that their running accolades far exceeded what paltry times I’ve been able to jog recently. Mark had alluded to how fast these other guys were, casually mentioning PRs that made it seem like I’ve been running with a peg leg my whole life. There were no delusions as to who the weakest link was on this team; it was only my goal to not embarrass the rest of my team too much.

About 30 minutes before the start of the race, the rest of the Fleet Feet Racing Team showed up, consisting of Martin, Tim, and Jake. And while they would certainly live up to/surpass their projected potentials, they were also the nicest bunch of dudes to run with, making the whole race infinitely better than what it could have been. But I digress from the suckage that was to come.

Because the race was to take place around an indoor ice skating rink, it was downright chilly on the track. After a brief 5 minutes of warmup in jackets/gloves, we sat down to discuss our gameplan. The nature of a marathon relay is pretty unique: with 4 runners, we can determine how far/often we “handoff” to a teammate, until 26.2 miles are completed. We were running on a track larger than your traditional outdoor track – 3.75 laps to the mile, but with only 3 lanes. And a “handoff” to a teammate consisted of coming to a complete stop off the side of the track, taking off your ankle sensor, and strapping it onto the ankle of your next teammate. So in an ideal and perfect handoff, you’re losing 5-6 seconds to transition. More often than not, though, 10-12 seconds would be wasted fumbling with this Velcro straps, trying to remain calm yet be as efficient as possible.

Martin was volunteered by the rest of us to start, and the tentative plan going in was for him and me to switch off every 4 laps for the first 13ish miles, then have Tim and Jake finish off the last 13ish. This way, we wouldn’t become too cold waiting between reps, taking 5ish minutes between each session, and the race would end up looking more like a mile repeat workout than anything. However, spoiler alert: this plan went out the window within the first 15 minutes.

With 95 teams running on this 3-lane track, the start was jam-packed, but when the starting gun went off, Martin jumped into the lead, pulling away from nearly everyone within the first lap. This of course terrified me, because I would be following Martin, and would someone have to keep our lead. So, after 4 laps, we made our awkward exchange, and I was off!

Racing in a T-shirt? Whaaa?

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the fear of disappointing my teammates, the number of runners jogging around the track, or the inhuman amount of coffee I consumed over the course of that morning, but I took off sprinting that first lap. It’s hard to judge your pace when you’re literally passing everyone and vibrating with caffeine, but I definitely did what my teammate Tim told me not to do, which was go out too fast. 26.2 miles is a long ways to go, and although I was undoubtedly the weakest leg on the team, I was still a leg, and you need those to run well. I definitely started feeling it the last lap of my rep, realizing I probably pushed it a bit too much for my first mile(ish), so when Martin came by 4 laps later, I was kindly encouraged to just run 3 laps, which made a world of difference.

Martin and I switched off for the first 30ish minutes – with 95 laps to the ‘thon, I quickly lost count of how far we were, and simply focused on running fast. Thankfully, our sensor kept track of how many laps we’d completed, and we soon learned who our main competitors were, simply based on who else was running as fast as we were. Performance Running Outfitters (PRO) was not too far behind us, followed closely by Berkeley Running Company, and we made it our mission to maintain our lead over them. It became an interesting game, noting when and how often the other teams rotated their runners, and frankly, it helped pass the time while staying competitive. 

Probably 45 minutes in, we started to slowly introduce our other two runners, Tim and Jake. They were probably the fastest runners on the whole track, and throwing them into the mix really solidified our 1^st-place standing. The initial goal was to win – taking the dub last year meant running a ~2:18, or about 5:15 pace/mile. However, when Tim and Jake started throwing down some nasty (in a good way) splits, there became talk of going for a course record. While one of us was running, the rest of us were looking up results from previous years on an iPhone, and the fastest time we could find was a 2:12. And based on how fast we were running, it looked like it may be doable.

Again, it was a weird way to race, and I know I definitely lost track of time. However, Martin and I were quickly becoming fatigued, and Tim and Jake’s segments lengthened, while Martin and I started throwing in some 2- and 1-lap legs. I really enjoyed these, blasting them as fast as I could go, dodging and weaving through the other runners. At some point I must’ve been spiked by another runner, because I remember finishing a rep and looking down, only to find blood trailing down my calf.

But the adrenaline was pumping, and we were nearing the finish. We’d lapped both PRO and Berkeley Running Company, so now it was more a race against time, and Tim was sure we could run a sub-2:10. As the race announcer started counting down our laps for us on the arena speaker, we soon found ourselves with 8 laps to go, and agreed we’d all just start sprinting 1-lap reps until the finish.

For some reason, we had some trouble doing some very simple math – we’d wanted Martin to be the finishing leg of the race, considering he’d put in the most work and deserved a bit of the recognition. I was meant to go before him, but upon getting my ankle sensor strapped on, the announcer’s voice boomed across the loudspeaker: AND THE FLEET FEET RACING TEAM IS ON THEIR LAST LAP! Uh oh.

I threw down everything I had, pumped up by the cheers from other teams along the way, and gritting my teeth through the lactic acid, sprinted across the finish line (in some downright terrible form, I must add). But, we finished in a record-setting time of 2:09:33, three minutes faster than the previous record and nearly 5 minutes faster than second place. What's crazy to think about post-race, though, is that we ended up averaging 4:57 pace over those 95 laps. Accounting for 5-10 seconds of "transition" time, we ended up running significantly faster than I ever would've expected (again, all thanks to a baller team).

Totally spent, we begrudgingly limped our way onto the podium and grimaced for some photos with our medals and the 1^st place trophy, something that gets to stay with Fleet Feet Brookfield until next year’s race (spoiler alert: we’re planning on keeping it there. Can you say sub-2 for next year?). We all laughed at the notion of a cooldown, instead flopping onto the floor and devouring a few-too-many cookies.

I’m writing this recap 4 days post-race, and my calves are still sore. Turns out, racing on an indoor track for the first time since college can really mess you up. But confidence is still high as I start my taper for LA, now just 10+ days away! 

Chicago Polar Dash 13.1 - 1/9/16

Sometimes, without any reasonable explanation, races just click. Whether it’s a good night’s sleep (nope) or incorporating a vegetable into a healthy diet (never), a runner can only hope for those rare days where running just seems easy.

I had no reason to expect a decent race at this past Saturday's Chicago Polar Dash 13.1, seeing as I’d spent the previous two weeks barely running, definitely not sleeping, and spending much of my waking life behind the windshield of the HOKAmobile. Minus a fast-finish long run on Christmas Day (fueled by the copious amount of cookies consumed the night prior), I had little confidence going into this half marathon that I could hit my goal of 75 (5:43/mile), much less break 80 (6:06/mile, the pace I’m hoping to maintain x2 at next month’s LA Marathon).

A PR, though, seemed feasible, considering my last attempt was back in 2012(!!) in a dismal and untrained (and just plain fat) 1:22 (6:17/mile). Based solely on my base developed these past 365 days (see last blog post!), I figured I’d start the Polar Dash at 6:00/mile, then see what would happen from there. Plus, this time I was wearing Hokas:)

~

The race itself was unseasonably warm, but still downright cold (mid-30s) and misty – pretty ideal running conditions for me. I’d opted for a t-shirt, a rare occurrence in Sam Welch racing history, and can honestly say I regret it, having definitely gotten a bit too hot throughout the race. I started the race front and center, and after the starting gun went off, found myself in the lead within the first minute of the race. Spoiler alert: that never changed. 

Thankfully, the pace bike ahead of me provided a good target to pace off of, and after rolling through the first mile in 5:45, told myself to ease it back to 6-flat. When I came through the next 3 miles all in 5:45, I said eff it and kept rolling, knowing that I had a buffer on 80 minutes.

The course itself can’t be considered hilly, but definitely had more undulations than I’d been training on (despite being on the Lakefront Path, just further south). Miles 4-7 were definitely the most difficult, but hitting the turnaround point was a huge mental boost, as was passing all the other racers making their way out. I’m convinced it was the cheering during the Chicago Marathon that led me to my current PR, and it was the cheering on the course Saturday that really forced me to realize how much fun I was having.

Of course, this was short lived, as I was getting tired AF and developing a MASSIVE blister on my right foot. Telling myself to run in a fast last 5K, I managed to just barely maintain my 5:45 pace (race splits below). Weirdly, the mile markers on the course were spot on, according to my Garmin watch; however, the last mile came out of nowhere, and definitely seemed to be a bit short. So despite a surprised and abbreviated kick, I finished 1^st overall in an official time of 1:14:23. 

Honestly, I’d put this effort at a high-75, so I’m going to hesitate on ticking this (sub-75) off my bucket list. But, I’m definitely in better shape than I thought, or have ever been in my life. To put this race into perspective, 5:45 was my race average for 8K in college; Saturday, I managed that for 13(ish) miles, and it felt relatively easy. I’ve got a couple more short races (indoor marathon relay in 2 weeks, 5-mile trail race in 3), and a far-fetched goal of running my birthday miles on the 22^nd. But, the Chicago Polar Dash 13.1 bodes well for my big race, the LA Marathon, on February 14^th!

NO DAYS OFF - 2015

The above photo would at first appear to be a testament to my weird fetish with order, numbers, or that fleeting-yet-tantalizing rush of getting to cross something off a to-do list. Instead, upon closer inspection, you’ll notice that this unique poster is in fact a calendar, with 365 numbers to represent every day of every month of 2015. I’d started the year with a lofty goal – to run on every one of those days, rain or shine, no matter what. No days off. And while those 365 red Xs may represent 365 days of consecutive running, the 267 hours and 52 minutes spent putting one foot in front of the other, the 2,290 miles covered over the course of 448 runs, it’s what can’t be quantified that makes this achievement so gratifying.

~

In December of 2014, I was stressed out, tired, and just plain out of shape (unless you count fat as a shape). I was in the throes of my first year of teaching high school, and while my sole purpose of moving out to Colorado Springs was to better my running, my homework, lesson plans, and excuses all piled up (as did the el bees).

Thankfully, thanks to some late night Facebook stalking/cookie consumption, I stumbled across a status update: someone had managed to run for the past year without missing a day. Having been at a serious level of training, I scoffed at her sappy musings of how those runs changed her, and how difficult it was at times, but how it’s all paid off blah blah blah (don't worry, I get the irony here). What irked me the most, though, was that she wasn’t even that great of a runner! I mean, I may have been tipping the scales of the BMI, but I still knew what it took to train hard and get fit. If SHE could run every day for a year, well, why couldn’t I?

Literally just days into 2015 though, I very quickly remembered why I hadn’t been running for the past 3 months. Teaching required me leaving my house no later than 6am, getting me to school by 6:30 to get ready for a 7am start to the day. If I wanted to eat breakfast, shower (not mandatory) and wear clothes (very mandatory), I had to be totally done running and stretching by 5:30am. Which meant, if I wanted to get in a minimum of 30 minutes of running, I had to be out my door by 4:50am. Which meant setting my alarm for 4:30am every morning. In January. (Interestingly enough, by the time I left Colorado, those morning runs were still being done in pitch darkness.)

The first month sucked, hard. Every run was a struggle, and I was still tired and miserable all the time. The second month wasn’t much better physically, but became easier mentally, more habitual than anything. The third month found me in a rhythm, and soon I was signing up for local races, remembering why I was doing this in the first place.

I can't not mention those days. Where I was too tired, too sore, too in-the-mood-to-play-videogames-and-eat-Poptarts. There are 365 stories there, each red X a different route or mood or agenda. In January, I ran at 11pm on a treadmill while on a skiing vacation in Keystone, sitting at 10,000 ft. March, my car broke down, and I ran to/from school almost every day, toting a backpack with my teaching attire. In May, I broke my collegiate 5K PR, then did so again in November. I raced 7 times in 6 weeks, culminating in a new best time at the Chicago Marathon and a week of DEFINITELY being injured but limping one slow, pathetic mile to keep the streak going (1 mile was the minimum, and made up ~7 days of the 365). In a blizzard in Milwaukee this past December, I stopped into a coffee shop to change into my running gear to do several laps around the block, earning my X for the day. I raced my first Ironman, met some new (and fast) friends, and ate more Clif Bars than any human should ever consume in their entire life.

My biggest realization this past year, though, has been just how easy this was. With 24 hours in a day, it’s impossible NOT to find ½ an hour to fit in for some running. Sometimes that means laps around the airport, or running just minutes after leaving the hospital, or stopping in a cornfield in Wichita, Kansas to log some miles. Obviously, these past 365 days of running have improved my endurance, and a massive shout-out has to go to HOKA ONE ONE. As a runner severely prone to injuries in high school and college, I know there’s no way I could’ve managed the past year running in anything but the superior shoe that is Hoka (shameless plug FTW).

Perhaps the most common question I’ve received since starting this journey, though, is: what are you going to do once 2015 is over? Well, hopefully this next picture answers that:

Obviously, I'd totally recommend this little experiment. The poster is a nice little reminder every day, and it's totally free (you just pay like, $2 for shipping: https://www.tracksmith.com/products/no-days-off-calendar)

And below, you’ll find my tentative agenda for the 2016 year. Obviously, lots more running (and blogs!) to come:)

January 13^th – Chicago Polar Dash 13.1

January 30^th – Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay (Team of 4)

February 6^th – Subzero 5-Mile 

February 14^th – LA Marathon

March 20^th – March Madness 13.1

April 4^th – Shamrock Shuffle 8K

April 30^th – Illinois Marathon

Rudolph Ramble 8K - 12/13/15

While it’s a relatively small and short race, the Rudolph Ramble was something I’d been looking forward to for quite some time. It’s not often I can jog to the start of a race from my front door, and Chicago races never disappoint in terms of seeing friendly faces or racing with some quick competition. But most importantly, the race was an 8K, the same distance I’d competed at in college.

See, me and this 8K had unfinished business – namely, I sucked at it during my brief collegiate years, despite literally dedicating my life to training for those 5 miles. With my recent success, new PRs at various distances, and some sick new kicks (thanks Hoka!), I was looking forward to having a little chat with the ol’ 8K distance.

~

Waking up race day morning to the weather-equivalent of ‘meh,’ I yogged the 2.5 miles through the puddles and rain to get to the race’s start. Located at Diversey Harbor, the majority of the race was to take place on the paths I’ve been running on since I moved here (it’s not hard, though – there are like, 2 routes to run in all of Chicago).

Despite the rain, feeling pretty meh, and REALLY craving one of those donuts they were handing out (BAD IDEA SAM), I was instantly put into a great mood by all the wonderful faces I saw! From high school teammates (hey Em!) to Fleet Feet staff (hey Bobby!) to college friends (hey Allie!) to my dad (hey Dad!), it was like a mini-reunion with all the runners in my life.

Don't worry - I beat him:)

Trotting over to the start, I made my way towards the front, only to find Logan, another Fleet Feet associate who I’ve been able to get to know thanks to my constant lurking at the Fleet Feet Sports in Lincoln Square. We share similar PRs over the 8K distance, and agreed that we’d stick together, going out in 5:30 pace for the first mile and seeing where that would take us.

After some muddy strides, the national anthem, and a silent pledge to myself to not get chicked by the really fast-looking girl next to me, we were off!

Soaking my feet instantly, I was resigned to stomping around in soggy sneakers the rest of the race; the consolation: everyone else was in the same boat. Logan and I settled into 6^th and 7^th place, along with 2-3 other Fleet Feet racers, as we watched 1^st and 2^nd take off, never to be seen again.

We rolled together nice and easy through mile 1, hitting 5:26 and feeling pretty fresh. Our pack stuck together as we wound our way back on the course, hitting mile 2 right at 11:00, maintaining a consistent 10-second gap from the 5^th runner in front of us. I took the lead of our group here, trying to subtly catch 5^th ahead of us, but the gap remained the same as we came through mile 3 in 16:30ish.

#SQUAD

Here, I told myself I’d start to pick up the pace, as I’d felt relatively relaxed all day. In looking back at my splits, I did no such thing, but managed to keep 5:30 pace and gap myself by 5ish seconds from the group I’d been running with. Rolling through mile 4 and missing my split, I told myself to make the push to catch that 5^th place runner, and actually got within 2-3 seconds of him. However, I was really starting to strain, and hitting the slightest of uphills coming up from beneath the bridge, hit a wall, hard. 5^th place took off, and out of nowhere another runner came flying past me – he ended up beating me by 7 seconds, all in the last 400 meters.

The last stretch was pretty interminable, and my horrendous form combined with trying to avoid the massive puddles made for a pretty ugly finish. But, with a goal of 28:00 going into today’s race, my official finishing time of 27:26 was a mere 6 seconds off my college PR.

Stoked, I turned around to see Logan finishing not too far behind me – later, we rejoiced upon hearing that we’d both won our respective age groups (me, 25-29; Logan, 20-24). Chugging some delicious apple cider, I made the slow trek home, content with the near-PR race and hungry for the next! Which, unfortunately, won’t be until the New Year; alas, I’ve got a pretty awesome schedule lined up for 2016 already, so stay tuned for my next post!

In Step Trail 7-Miler + Brookfield Zoo 5K + Apple Cider Century + Run&Roll Duathlon + Chicago Marathon + Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K+ Arnold Turkey Trot 5K

This race report will be a bit different than past posts, simply because I’m lazy and haven’t kept up with blogging. Since my last report (http://samwelchruns.blogspot.com/2015/10/ironman-madison.html), I raced a 7-mile trail race, a 5K, biked 100 miles, and jumped into my first duathlon (have I mentioned I’m an idiot?). Then ran the Chicago Marathon, and followed that up with a local Turkey Trot 5K suckfest, then a new 5K PR (maybe) at another Turkey Trot. So here’s a quick recap of the past two months, compressed into soundbites you might actually read (maybe).

~

In Step Trail 7-Mile (9/19/15): 6 days post-Ironman, I started this race with very minimal expectations, minimal sleep, but maximal shoes (wow that was terrible). Racing in my demo Challenger ATRs, I ran the first 3 miles relaxed in 2^nd place, then took the lead at the halfway point and ran scared all the way home, setting a new course record in the process.
TL;DR: pwned the guy racing in Vibram FiveFinger toe shoes, setting a new CR (1^st overall, 43:53); HOKA ONE ONE FTW.

Brookfield Zoo 5K (9/20/15): Literally less than 24 hours later, I definitely ran on less sleep and even fewer expectations. Warmed up for literally 2 minutes, viewing the extra 18 I’d normally do as precious energy I’d need to actually finish. Managed to run relatively not terrible despite literally EVERYTHING, plus ran into old IWU alum Mandy! 
TL;DR: 2^nd overall in 17:16 around various enclosed fauna. Maybe I’ll sleep/recover/not be an idiot next time?

Apple Cider Century (9/27/15): Teaming up with vO2 max extraordinaire Chelsea, she towed me along for your casual 100-mile bike ride through hilly Three Oaks, MI. You’d think having raced that Ironman the weeks prior would’ve have me somewhat prepared, but this sufferfest was only ameliorated by the unlimited access to cookies at each aid station (and biking behind a pretty girl).
TL;DR: 100 miles in 8ish hours (?), getting emasculated by Chelsea (who did the whole thing in a fixie).

Run & Roll Duathlon (10/4/15): Racing with roommate Erik “Squanchy” Bergstrom, I was able to figuratively and literally race some uncharted territory. 2-mile run followed by 20K on the bike, and finishing with a 2-mile run, I managed to make it through the first transition in 1^st place, only to get lost on the bike, only to find my way back onto the course, but substantially further back. Split the fastest run legs of the day, which confirmed that I’m not a biker and should probably practice that some more.
TL;DR: Ran 10:40 first 2-mile, 37:XX bike leg (for who knows how long), and another 10:40 2-mile for 1^st in age group, 3^rd overall.

Chicago Marathon (10/11/15): Working the expo and standing on concrete floors for consecutive 12-hour days leading up to racing a marathon is definitely not ideal. Nor is solely living off Clif Bars for breakfast/lunch/dinner and sleeping a solid 3-4 hours each night. Despite that, had the race of my life, netting a much-needed PR and stoking the desire to legitimately train for one of these things.
TL;DR: Ran 2:48:01 (I know – couldn’t have gone 2 seconds faster?), with a BIG negative split (1:28:XX, 1:19:XX) and lots of stoke for the next ‘thon.

Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K (11/22/15): Teaming up with Chelsea again, we braved the near sub-zero temps on near sub-zero sleep. Despite the cold and snow, we both somehow medaled in our age groups, neither of us at our prime.
TL;DR: 3^rd overall in 17:20, feeling like death and hungry for a new PR.

Arnold Turkey Trot 5K (11/26/15): Looking to redeem myself after the previous Trot’s lackluster performance, I actually slept the night before this race, and apparently that makes a difference. Took the lead immediately, and rolled off 5:15s on a somewhat hilly course (at least compared to Chicago standards) for the dub.
TL;DR: 1^st overall in 15:57, though my Garmin tells me this course must’ve been a tad short…

~

So there you have it! A crap ton of racing, and some big plans for the future! In fact, my next race will be this upcoming Sunday at the Rudolph Ramble 8K, as I seek to hone in on my college 8K PR (and thus totally shitting on my 4 years of collegiate training). Stay tuned!

Ironman Madison

Photographer basically told me I HAD to pose like this.

I’ve been lazy writing this race report, mainly because I’ve repressed much of this (literal) day’s worth of suffering and embarrassment. But, the masses have spoken (actually, just Aaron), so without further ado, the improbable and idiotic recap of my first (and oh please god, only) Ironman Triathlon.

~

As my blog’s followers have probably noticed, I haven’t really been in the throes of triathlon training. In fact, my most recent triathlon was a half Ironman back in 2011 (I’ve also done a short sprint tri back in 2009). That half Ironman was a pretty clear indication that I generally suck at swimming and biking, and while completing an Ironman is written down in my bucket list, I assumed I’d complete it with the rest of the semi-obese balding 50-year olds in the midst of their midlife crises, a few years down the line.

But a perk for being employed with HOKA ONE ONE has me working the expos for some big local races. I had the chance to work the Chicago Rock’n’Roll Half expo, will be working the Chicago Marathon expo (more on that later), and had me in Wisconsin for Ironman Madison’s expo. It was on the drive up the Wednesday before Sunday’s race, that I was informed that I could use our 1 complimentary entry.

Probably not my smartest idea...

Now, there is absolutely no reason why I should accept such an offer. I’ve been keeping fit, but mainly training for a 5K road race. I literally hadn’t swam in open water since living in Martinique 2 years ago (not to mention NEVER having swam in a wetsuit), and my bike training consisted of sporadic hour rides when I felt too beat up to run. I’d be on my feet, working the expo the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday before Sunday’s race, and my bike was sitting in my Dad’s garage, 2 hours away. Only an idiot would attempt an Ironman under these conditions.

But I’m a glutton for punishment. And a comped $750 entry is too much to pass up for someone as frugal as myself. And it would sound pretty BA. So, I said yes. Then, 12 hours later, found myself in the emergency room.

This doesn’t necessarily pertain to the Ironman race, but it’s probably worth mentioning. Not too long after accepting the race entry and picking up my race materials, I picked up some grocery store sushi for dinner, then went to bed. At around midnight, I woke to some intense stomach pains, so debilitating that I couldn’t walk. Then, the vomiting started. This explosive disaster lasted about 30 minutes before I realized it wasn’t going to stop (and I’d be paying some hefty cleaning fees), so I hit the emergency button on my hotel room’s phone, and soon found myself on a stretcher heading to the hospital. I was still in some pretty incredible pain, so I was administered some morphine, and the pain all but subsided at around 2am. The nurses did blood work, performed an ultrasound of my stomach, and discovered that I had had an acute bout of pancreatitis. They believed it was caused by gallstones, released by my gallbladder from the fatty fish in the sushi; when the doctors found my blood work totally normal the next afternoon, I was free to go.

Thankfully, because literally zero training had gone into this Ironman, I had no expectations going into this race (except to actually finish). I had to borrow a wetsuit from the local Fleet Feet (we guessed on my measurements, as I couldn’t go into the store because of the expo), I drove back to Chicago to pick up my bike at 2am, and was able to buy a pair of goggles for cheap. The night before the race, I googled “First Ironman,” read a few articles on race day nutrition, and shaved my legs (instant regret). For whatever reason, I was ignorantly optimistic, ready for some good ol’ fashioned cardio the next day.

~

For the uninitiated (or for those who didn’t google it the night before the race), an Ironman consists of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike, and a 26.2-mile run. You’ve got two transitions, between the swim/bike, then bike/run. Once the starting gun goes off, there’s no stopping it, so it’s all about forward movement, however small that may become. The time cut-off is 17 hours, with 2:20 allowed for the swim, 8:10 for the bike, and 6:30 for the run. And honestly, I thought there was a strong chance I wouldn’t make it through the swim in time for this cutoff.

See, I’m not a swimmer. When I raced that half Ironman 4 years ago, I was DFL in my age group, finishing the 1.2-mile swim in ~55 minutes. This time, I’d be going twice the distance, with literally zero recent swim training. But I did have a wetsuit this time, which I’d heard makes things much easier (more buoyant/ hydrodynamic). And stepping into the water at 6:30am along with the 3,100 other participants, I noticed it right away. I could stand vertically and float perfectly in the water; plus, it provided some nice insulation to make up for the pathetic fat reserves I have on my body.

With a mass start, every single participant starts at the same time, making for a very frantic and chaotic start. Without any shred of competitive urges, I started a good 200 yards back from the start line, behind almost literally every other triathlete. And when the starting cannon boomed at 7am sharp, I laughed (at myself, for actually doing this), and eased into a nice easy freestyle. Within minutes, though, I found myself in the frenzy of kicking feet and swinging fists – it really was impossible to swim more than a couple strokes without getting swam on top of/getting kicked in the face. I swallowed more than enough water, and despite the inefficiency, found myself swimming with my head out of the water for the entirety of this first stretch, ~0.5 miles.

Once I hit our first 90-degree turn, I shifted wide, outside the wake of the other swimmers, and just started swimming. It was a weird sensation, something that’s only happened while running, but I found myself in a sort of flow state, effortlessly gliding through the water. I soon made my next 90-degree turn, which meant I was getting close to the mile marker. Because my wetsuit covered my watch, I had zero idea how fast/slow I was moving, which really allowed me to get in the zone (again, a very foreign concept for me when it comes to swimming).

I probably made it 1.5 miles like this before I started feeling fatigued, especially in my huge, muscled arms/biceps (sarcasm). With still a ways to go, I decided to switch it up and do some modified backstroke (think butterfly, but on your back?), and immediately noticed I was passing everybody. Literally moved up 50 people in the span of 5 minutes, all while doing *THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK* which was also infinitely easier than freestyle. I kept this up, continuing to fly by other racers, and honestly thought I was cheating, thinking this was some illegal stroke or something. Passing the 2-mile marker, I went to switch to freestyle, but immediately found myself falling back in line with the other swimmers, so decided to resume passing everybody with the easier/more fun backstroke-y thing. I literally did this, periodically checking over my shoulder to avoid bumping into anyone, until I reached shore.

There was a large clocked ticking up, and going into the race, I was hopeful for a sub-2 hour finish (even this seemed farfetched). So when I saw 1:14, I was equally bewildered and ecstatic, but frantically ran onto land to get my wetsuit taken off, then made the sprint up to the transition area. The crowds along here were going nuts, so it was all I could do to not actually sprint, but I made it up to and out of transition in probably 5 minutes, changing into a biking shirt, shoes, helmet, and the ubiquitous stunna’ shades.

Hopping onto my bike, I was a bit apprehensive, only because the adrenaline of the crowds was wearing out and I started feeling the effects of the longest swim of my life. Plus, having had a handful of dry Kix cereal for breakfast, I was hungry. Of course I didn’t have any nutrition on me, meaning I’d have to wait until the first aid station (mile 15) to load up on GUs/Gatorade. But thankfully, the bike started out slow, most racers content to coast through the winding downtown streets until we reached the 50-mile cornfield loop we’d be completing, twice. I don’t have any sort of odometer or GPS device on my bike, so I had zero concept of pace, but tried to remain relaxed through these opening miles, and soon made it to the first aid station.

Stunnah shades though.

I’d read somewhere online that it’s pointless to drink water during an Ironman, because your body needs as many calories as possible, so Gatorade would make up 90% of my liquids (my own pathetic tears would supply the remaining 10%). I picked up a Clif bar, a GU, and some Chomps, as well as a 20-oz Gatorade, and told myself I had to finish it all before the next aid station (roughly every 15 miles). This was actually not difficult at all, and I found myself craving more during a couple long, lonely stretches.

This was a long bike ride, so I won’t bore you with too many details. The views were gorgeous, weather pErFeCt, and several port-o-potties stops were made. I got the song “Girl” by Jukebox the Ghost randomly stuck in my head, which I proceeded to sing out loud for 4+ hours. The random crowds were amazingly motivating, and those I talked to weren’t lying when they said the hills of Ironman Madison make it one of the hardest Ironmans in the country.

At around mile 75, going down a steep downhill into a sharp right turn, and feeling explicably tired, I realized I wasn’t going to make the turn, slamming my breaks and somersaulting over my handlebars. I landed on my hand, with my wrist/hip taking the brunt of the damage. Dazed, I managed to stand up (relatively) painfree, then found my chain totally off my gears, so spent a couple minutes rigging it back up, soon back in the saddle with a huge surge of adrenaline. My hand was bleeding pretty bad, making it almost impossible to rest of right hand on the handlebars, and by mile 90, my swollen wrist prevented my from shifting any gears. Understandably, this made those last 22 miles quite unbearable, but making it back to the bike/run transition was all I could’ve asked for. My tentative goal going in was under 7-hours, so finishing in 6:20 was definitely another little ego boost.

The run portion of the Ironman was what I was actually genuinely excited for; I’m definitely not a swimmer, am competent enough on a bicycle (except apparently when going downhill), but definitely consider running my “forte.” I had lofty goals of utterly destroying this marathon, maybe even netting a new 26.2 PR? I figured I could run 8-minute miles in my sleep, so if I were feeling good, I’d run a low 3-hour marathon; if not, I could at least manage a 4-hour ‘thon. Oh how wrong I would be.

That there's some derpy-ass form.

Flying out of the transition area, again spurred on by the booming crowds of spectators, I had zero concept of pace again, passing runners left and right. I heard a couple people in the crowds remark how fast I was going, and it didn’t hit me until I came through mile #1 in a bit over 6-flat pace. Uh-oh. I consciously eased up a bit, grabbing a GU and some pretzels at the 1.5-mile aid station, and came through mile 2 at around 7-flat pace. It was honestly around here that I started feeling pretty dead: 2 miles into a marathon. Mile 3 was 8 minutes, mile 4 was 9, and from then on, I don’t think I made it through another mile without some walking.

Hat did not last much longer. Fan I threw it to was not amused.

The port-o-potties couldn’t come soon enough, and my face hole couldn’t stuff enough food down: cookies, potato chips, Red Bull. I’d come through every aid station devouring everything in sight, then finding it harder and harder to resume running again. Obviously I was physically tired, but more so mentally, as having nearly everyone pass me was quite demoralizing. This was supposed to be my event, and I couldn’t even maintain a 9-minute mile pace. The run course consisted of two 13.1-mile loops, so coming back into town/the finish line/crowds let me throw in another surge, dropping a couple 8-minute miles (which seemed blazing at the time), but immediately leaving downtown, I was resigned to walking again.

Blasting out some 11-minute miles.

It’s surreal thinking back to this: at the time, you could’ve put a gun to my head and I still wouldn’t have run. I started doing mental math, calculating my estimated finish time if I were to continue walking these 16-minute miles. Then, I started calculating whether or not I’d finish within the allotted 6:30 timeframe. Miles 14-17 were pretty low for me, and there was definitely a 15-minute bathroom stop where I nearly fell asleep. But then something clicked, and I realized 10-minute miles were better than 16-minute miles, and my slow, embarrassing yog would let me stop sooner. So I stumbled and trudged through miles 18, then 19, then 20. I clicked off consistent 10-minute miles until 22, then walked another mile before getting close to downtown and resuming running.

It was starting to become dark, and there were huge floodlights lining the last two miles of the course with thousands of spectators screaming and cheering. I was definitely in a daze, but fueled by the frenzy of the crowd, started to pick up the pace (one might even consider it running again), throwing down a sub-9 mile (wooooo!) going into the last mile of the race.

Nasty. But yes, I beat him.

It must’ve been a half mile to go (I was pretty delirious at this point) when I overheard someone say there were 8 minutes until 8pm. Somehow, I was able to do some mental math and determine that if I were to finish before 8, I’d run a sub-13 hour Ironman, a respectable enough result. So I flipped the switch, and out of nowhere let out a furious kick. At this point in an Ironman, nearly everyone is walking, so when I started sprinting, the crowd went nuts, so I kept sprinting harder. I flew down the final straightaway, tongue out and form to shit, finishing into the arms of the nearby officials. My final, official time is 12:55:24, splitting an embarrassing 5-hour marathon.

Woof.

But, I finished, and for that, I was happy. I ate some pizza, got my wrist checked out (it was the size of a softball by this point), then made the interminable 30-minute drive back to my hotel room where I proceeded to PTFO. While I don’t have any desire to do another Ironman anytime soon, I am curious as to how I’d do with some actual, legitimate training. Until next time!

Run For Walk 4.1

Despite the egregious lies of my last post (re: “racing soon”), I finally got off my lazy tush and hopped into Northwestern’s Run For Walk 4.1-mile race. While I haven’t totally transformed into a sloth just yet, these past 2 months of not racing became exceedingly evident exceedingly early into Sunday’s race. Just how much did this suckfest hurt? Did Sam race a new 4.1-mile PR? And most importantly, how did his hair look? Read on to find out…

~

After the Essence of Freedom Memorial Day 5K back in the end of May, I was planning on racing aysap to further lower that infantile 5K PR. However, those plans went out the window when I found myself driving to accounts all over the Midwest, spending hermit-like hours listening to podcasts in the HOKAmobile. While my job as Field Service Rep for HOKA ONE ONE provides me with ample time to listen to all of David Sedaris’ books on tape, my weekends are especially busy, leaving very little time to get in any racing.

But, I’ve been keeping up the running, and as of now (knock on wood) have yet to miss a day in 2015. Running on the Lakefront Path is actually pretty fun – while the path itself is monotonous, there’s always plenty of characters to people-watch and secretly race against. Plus, I’ve even jumped into workouts with the local Fleet Feet Racing Team, having suffered through the fastest mile-repeat workout I’ve ever done (thanks Kyle).

And finally, when I had a weekend where work kept me local, I made a quick google search to find Sunday’s Run For Walk race. After forcibly coercing my housemate/old IWU XC teammate Erik “Squanchy” Bergstrom to race with me, we signed up a couple days before the race, not totally prepared for how much it would suck.

~

Race morning had us out the door by 6 am, and after picking up our packets and endlessly debating about where to pin our bibs (we went with shorts, to allow for as much shirtless naked running as possible), we yogged for 10 minutes before lining up at the start. Kyle and the rest of the Fleet Feet Racing Team were already at the front of the starting line, and I made Erik promise me to not let me go out with them. The tentative plan was to negative split, a strategy that always works for me but I never actually follow through with. 4.1 miles is a curious distance, so I came in with the B-goal of going sub-5:45 pace, and an A-goal of sub-5:35; I knew this was all contingent on not starting like an idiot. I knew this, told Erik about it, but when that starting gun went off, there I was running 5-flat pace. Woof.

Erik and yours truly at the start

I should mention that this race had more than 750 runners – by far the biggest race I’ve run in recent memory. So unfortunately, there were plenty of people to pace too fast off of, and despite telling myself I was running relaxed, made it through mile 1 in roughly 5:25, and tired. Uh oh. By now Kyle and the Fleet Feet team had taken off, and I found myself running with 3-4 others, clipping off 5:30 pace (according to my Garmin).

Making it through mile 2 right at 11-minutes, though, I hit a mental impasse. See, in a 5K, this is where I’d start going balls-to-the-wall, urging myself on with those cursed memories of a maintenance mile. But with still two miles to go, I told myself to rest this mile and save enough for the last. So I slowed – big time. Strava tells me I was trotting 6-flat pace here, and looking back, it makes sense. Once you start giving in and making concessions in races, it’s harder and harder to really push and keep it together. The little blips on my pacing line below show those times when I’d look down at my watch: each time I was amazed to find myself running so slow, throw in a surge, then slowly ease back to a pedestrian pace.

Almost too embarrassed to put this up...

The last mile found me running ~5 seconds behind a Dick Pond Athletics runner, and for the life of me, I could not catch him. We flew through the 4-mile marker, though I missed the time, and made it down the final stretch across the Welsh-Ryan Arena. Totally spent, I crossed the line in 23:14, good enough for 14^th place and a 5:41 average. Here’s race footage of that final stretch (the good part [AKA me] starts at 2:10): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkVreUwCeqw&feature=youtu.be

Good thing I still have my pretty looks, because that form is atrocious.

Erik finished not too long after, and in chatting with other runners, everyone felt like butt. I cooled down with Katelyn Draths, another old IWU XC teammate, then made the drive home with Erik. We both decided that we needed to race more, so we spent the rest of the day finding local Sunday races (work keeps me from racing on Saturdays). And, lo and behold, below you’ll find my upcoming races for the majority of 2015!

Sunday, September 20^th: ZooRunRun 5K

Sunday, September 27^th: Chicago 5K

Sunday, October 26^th: Evanston Trick or Treat Trot 6K

Sunday, November 8^th: Naperville Half Marathon

Thursday, November 26^th: Evanston Flying Turkey 5K

Yes, I also was soundly beaten by a girl :(