This race season is over: What I've learned, and then my brain just started leaking random things into words

Race season 2014 is over.  I had some success and I also had some humility.  It was an excellent year.  I improved my Ironman overall time and splits. There are definitely areas to improve on, and that’s the name of the game right there.  I had a great time running a marathon “for fun” with my bestest bud. I ran Hood to Coast for the first time (and likely the last).  I ran a marathon “for time” in early September that put some egg on my face.  And I finished the year with a duathlon, an impromptu change of the Portland Triathlon to adapt to a Willamette River algae bloom.  I only attempted one mountain this summer, North Sister, and we failed. 

  

I was barely trained for my September marathon.  About nine weeks past the Ironman.  I had mixed training runs with lazy recovery.  My muscles and joints could still handle the distance.  I wanted a Boston time.  I knew going into my race that it wasn’t possible.  I just wasn’t trained enough and I didn’t want to hurt myself.  I would, however, go for broke.  The course was very flat, but the sun was out all day and there was very little shade on the course.  My half marathon time was excellent, somewhere around 98 minutes.  I was cruising and holding back a little, I felt great.  I had a secondary goal of 3:35; my girlfriend at the time’s best marathon time.  After the halfway point I just started to massively lose energy and ability.  In the beginning I could hold a 7:20 pace but now I was slowing.  The 3:30 pacer caught up to me and I ran with him for a while.  I ran with him for about 10 minutes and then walked through an aid station.  I could see him in the distance but I just couldn’t catch back up.  I kept running as hard as my body would allow.  I figured the 3:35 pacer was world’s behind, because I was still moving forward.  Well, that delightful sign bearing, “3:35” caught up to me.  I ran with him for a long while and then hit a point I had to walk.  I watched him fade into the distance.  The story goes on and involves a lot of walk/running and somehow a worse time than my “Let’s only train for a marathon for 10 weeks!”  But the important part is covered, I failed.

I told myself that the all day sun wore me down.  I saw two people puke on course and three afterwards.  It was rough even though it was flat.  That’s what I let my brain believe.  I was good enough, but it was the fault of everything else that led to my failure.  Brains, man.  It’s easy to convince yourself of something when you’re both the lawyer and the jury.  And it’s crap.  I wasn’t trained enough and I wasn’t prepared.  I took my physical capabilities for granted and let them run on auto pilot.  When it came time to get behind the wheel and disengage the auto pilot I pretty much wrecked my car (only it’s economy, don’t worry; I’m fine).

North Sister was a grueling day with really good friends.  We had fun the whole day and I wouldn’t change anything.  But we failed.  There was still too much snow near the top and we didn’t have the correct gear for it.  For safety sake we had to turn around.  It was a narrow crossing and wouldn’t have taken long, but it also wouldn’t have taken long to lose a step and slide down fast into rocky rubble.  We failed.

I look back at the failure throughout the summer and I smile.  I always had fun, and I always learned.  Now I have areas to improve on and places to grow stronger.  I can’t imagine the arrogance I would have if I had succeeded at each endeavor.  I’m pretty thankful for getting knocked down a peg; next year I can climb back up a little higher.

This coming year is undecided.  Last year I trained with a pretty special girl, and now things are no longer.  She got me to where I am in terms of cycling ability and is the root of logging a high number of open water swims.  I hope I’ve grown enough mentally to log the required training without her beside me (or out in front of me).  It’s another thing to improve on, though. 

 

At this point in my life I’m pondering doing the Leadman 250 in Bend.  I want to find another marathon and shoot for a Boston time; I may even try Skagit Flats again.  I have very little interest in doing the Portland Triathlon again (which might not even be possible, conflicting date with Leadman last year).  I’ll try to find another Olympic distance triathlon in the area.  I may even sign up for a Sprint distance; I’ve never tried one.  I want to decide early and pick my primary race.  Currently I think I’ll winter/spring train for a long triathlon and then target marathon distance in late spring/summer.  I want my Boston time.

 I need to improve my diet.  Anyone who’s ever seen what I eat is probably secretly wondering how I’m still alive.  I’m a sweet Lamborghini (got to be a little cocky, right?) running my engine on rubbing alcohol.  I never had my body fat tested last year.  During my 2013 season I had my body fat tested 3 times during the season to make sure I wasn’t letting myself go.  I’m a runner; I can’t just flex and see if my muscles got bigger.

Here’s to a hopeful 2015.

 

To those that have read this: I truly appreciate it.  I like to let curious people know what goes on during races.  I also hope it helps to motivate at least a couple.  It’s also a benefit to myself because I can just ramble and get a feel for how I interpret my events.  Writing can pop out little details that talking can’t.  And as much as I like pictures… they don’t do much.  They can help add details to stories and give them some recognition.   “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Nope.  A picture tells someone what to imagine.  It tells them what to do.  A story allows for interpretation.  Stories are grand because they allow the listener to get lost in their own mind.  Why do we read books?  Because they tell the stories but allow our brain to paint the picture.  I love to listen to stories of outdoor adventures because I can put my own spin and imagery on the event.  If someone showed me a play by play video of the event I’d likely get disappointed.  Not because they trip wasn’t epic, but because I like my own tweaks and pictures I’ve painted. 

 

This is my blog so I can speak my mind.  This is why I hate Instagram.  Over saturation and edited colors.  The sky doesn’t glow like the Heaven’s are angry.  It’s a lie to those that haven’t gone.  It breeds disappointment.  Imagine someone took a trip to the top of a mountain, one I had posted of a super saturated and glowing sunrise, a sunrise so deep blood orange you’d think the apocalypse was coming.  Now imagine this person gets to the top for themselves and see’s the sky blue breaking through the puffy clouds.  The lower peaks and valleys below.  And they breathe deep and say, “This is it?”  There’s no devil’s Kool-aid orange sky or cobalt blue waters.  Imagine they’re actually disappointed at the beauty around them.  Because we showed off the world more vibrant and exquisite, we’ve deformed the beauty... we added makeup.  We do it to make ourselves look more epic.  This is the day and age we live in.  I like my pictures as much as the next person.  I love my SLR because it captures what I see.  I like to remember my trips as they were.  This is in no way in insult to Instagram’ers.  I’ve used the term myself, “I’m going to make xxxxx Facebook jelly.”  I’m going to post pictures so fun and adventurous that it’s like a hook.  I’m a jerk like that sometimes.  But in reality it’s about being an ambassador to the adventures you pursue.  Show people what it’s about and if they’re curious, show them more.  Take them out, give them opportunities.  In my experience most people peter our and never truly tag along.  But never let that stop you from giving people the opportunity to find a new place or have a new adventure.  The one’s who explore will enjoy (almost) every second of it.  There’s places high, low, and inbetween in this awesome world.  If a person bails on you because the season premier of “blah blah blah blah,” then nuts to them, you’ve tried; go on your own.

 

 

I’ve loved doing my Ironmans, I’ve loved my marathons, and I’ve loved my outdoor adventures.  It would be awesome if people wanted to try these things, too.  But to each their own.  When I talk to people about doing an Ironman I focus on a side point: the people out there that you would never imagine doing one.  Couch to 5k?  Couch to Ironman is possible too, just takes longer.  Couch to marathon?  Couch to ANYWHERE.  Putting in the time and effort can take you anywhere you want to get.  The trick is to stop saying someday and say, “this year, but I’ve got to start now.”  Get better everyday even if it’s beeeeaaaarly measureable or quantifiable.  You’ll fail sometimes, I certainly have, but the experience of failing can be amazing.  And it can give you a passion to get better.  I’d rather fail at a summit attempt of North Sister than be the king of hiking in Tryon Creek (that’s just me). 

 

That’s my rant.  Because it’s my blog.  And I’m allowed to.  Thanks for reading if you got this far.  Infact, going into winter is the hardest time for training and keeping motivation.  So, if you read this and like it, let me know.  If you have feedback, I’m all ears.  And definitely if you want to take an adventure but don’t know where to start, ask.  I can point you the right direction, or at least in a direction to get you started.  It’s all right there around us; sometimes you’ve just got to jump out of your comfort zone.