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You'll find blogging, race reports, photos, videos, and musings at tritherapy.org as Dano digests the life lessons found in marathons, triathlons, and all the training that goes along with them.
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A different kind of ready

It's mid-season, season number four.  My first half-Iron triathlon is Sunday: the Door County Triathlon.

Door County is the little peninsula of Wisconsin that sticks out into Lake Michigan.  Up there, it's cherry trees, camp sites, and tourism all summer long.  I've been up there to relax, and it's prime vacationing country.  There is plenty of ice cream - in spite of the agony of waiting until after the race to eat it.  And I've heard all sorts of great things from my friends about this race - it seems to be a local favorite year after year.  It draws a field of 1,000 for each of two races: a sprint on Saturday and a half-iron on Sunday.  Why not a "half-Ironman?"  Because it hasn't sold out to the man that owns that particular name.  As such, it has its own unique flavor and a lower entry fee.  Perhaps not all the same standard perks and amenities, but that's not the kind of stuff I seem to focus on much anymore.  I often prefer a B&B to a Holiday Inn.  Anyway, without the "man", maybe the ladies better enjoy racing there (??)

A lot of people take the opportunity to camp out, add on some vacation, and get away from it all.  I decided to be one of them, if only for a little while.  Sure, one of the most important things to do before a race is to relax and get a lot of good sleep.  A tent site isn't always the best to achieve that goal - but this will be a good test of my mental condition.  In spite of all the variables it brings, outdoors is a great place to feel relaxed.  The campground is undoubtedly going to be full of triathletes - so I should feel great comfort being surrounded by my peeps.  For an added bonus, I'll bring my comfortable air mattress!  What if it rains?  Well, you know what I always say - "you can't pick the weather on race day", and you can't pick it any other day, either.  So I'm just bringing an extra tarp and a calm demeanor.  And a car, just in case.

Am I ready for this race?  Sure!  I've been tapering this week, and taking the extra non-workout time to stay on top of work and home projects that interest me.  I went for a swim this morning through some warm and calm water, and although I know I don't have the muscular endurance for long swimming that I've had in years past, I feel a great comfort in the water and a good command of my mechanics.  As such, I can't swim very fast, but I think I can swim "pretty."  This has been a breakthrough year for running for me: 34 miles in San Diego after an injury-free spring have really built my confidence as a runner.  Now, in the month since San Diego, I've been sporadic as I tried to balance recovery with regaining my consistency, but the extra-hot half-marathon last weekend reminded me that I've got legs.   And biking?  Well, whether or not I'm in ideal shape, I love my bike and it loves me back, and biking is a great part of the race for a little guy.

This has been a different kind of season.  I came into it with a different level of baseline experience, skill, and confidence.  Along the way I dealt with a whole new set of stressors.  And I have responded to them with what feels like a whole new mindset.  As a result, some of my races have arrived with good training, but without big fanfare.  Although I've enjoyed the benefit of not spending the money, I haven't bought new gear for a while; when race days come around, I just grab the same trusty stuff, sponge-bathed, lubed and polished.  I think, without being on active coaching duty this summer, I miss the Team.

As I think about the imminent half-Iron race in three days, I keep remembering that it's a lot of athletes' first big race.  They're nervous, and I'm casually rounding up my gear.  They're focusing on it and telling all their friends, and I'm just cruising on up for a weekend vacation.  If I'm not careful with a long race like this, I know I'll have a lousy day - but I'll stick to my checklists, remembering that my organizational skills finally have found a good sporting-home.  I'll stick to smiling no matter the conditions.  As the race unfolds, I'll watch it with wide-open eyes to see how my body reacts to the new distance.  As the day arrives, I'll talk it up with my friends and on race morning I'll hope to meet some new ones, too.  Although it's not all race-day jitters, I feel ready, just a little different kind of ready.  My bike is in my car.  I'm "shaved and tapered."  Door County, here we come!

Race Report: Summerfest half-marathon

Interesting how things change when you make a race a "low" priority.

I wasn't going to race last weekend at all.  I had just gone hard in the sprint tri at Janesville, was going to do a nice long bike ride last weekend, then race the half-Iron distance up in Door County next weekend.  I recently got to focusing in on the Door County race, and got to thinking about how it will take something like 7 hours, and is a bona fide seriously tough endurance event.  Ooh, time to get serious there, Dano.

But my friends were talking about this half... all the Milwaukee gang from the San Diego team were signing up.  "If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you, too?"  Well, sure - it wouldn't be much fun around here without any friends!

"We're getting the band back together"

The inaugural "Rock n Sole" half-marathon was part of Milwaukee's Summerfest, billed as the world's largest music festival.  Needless to say, I made my journey across the state on Saturday, to take in some of the fine midwestern-fair-style goodness that such a festival has to offer.  Deep-fried Reuben rolls!  Ice Cream!  A ride on the sky-glider, and as the day went on, plenty of Britney Spears fans dressed in all kinds of tragic.  Now, I may have been pretty loose, but I did stick to the basics.  I limited myself to only, ahem, a couple drinks... and sucked down quarts of water throughout the sunny day.  I had a delicious light pasta and tuna dinner and got to bed early.

Sunday morning I met up with the Team.  We gave Lauren (in the middle) a hard time for not wearing her purple shirt, but excused her on account of being in the middle of a move, and having the best race number.  Our TNT director, Naomi, is training for her first marathon and was at the line to run her own first half-marathon.  Dione was running with her sisters and dad in a big family day at the races.  And Mandee would be my running-mate, since she had been giving me a hard time about not being at mile 24 in San Diego as I told her, but more nearly 25.5, and I was looking to settle the score.  The sky was clear and hazy, the sun was already hot when the race started at 8.

And off we went!  As the conversations began, I came to realize that I was not the only one in the group who had barely run since San Diego back on June 6th!  This training void came to manifest itself a couple hours later, but hardly seemed any concern for the cheerful group.  I knew that I'd have to take it easy both to get through the race happily, and to keep my legs under control for the big race next weekend.  I took a lot of pictures, looked at the scenery, and even jumped over some obstructions like traffic barrels, just to keep it light.  The hot weather did not concern me as much as some others: I find that I thrive in adverse conditions.  This is where my mental stamina can lead me through the discomfort, and help me make smart decisions on the fly.  Something in my mind told me to hang on to my plastic bottle of water for at least the first couple of water stops, since I was queued up near the back, it was a super hot day, and it was an inaugural race.  I wanted to see what I'd find at the water stations first.

Sadly, there were some serious problems at the water stations ahead.  I could tell as we approached the first one and groups of runners were stopped, sort of huddled around it.  No water on the table.  One ran out of cups.  One ran out of water.  Some looked like they had too few volunteers for the thousands of racers.  On a day this hot, the race simply fell down on the job for not having enough.  I was glad to have that bottle in my hand, where it stayed the whole 13.1 miles.  13.3 if you count my short detour to some trees halfway through.

At one water stop, the volunteers were apologetically saying "I'm sorry, we don't have any more water." None to be seen.  I stopped and looked around, under the tables and nearby.  There were boxes of garbage and empty bottles ... I've run a lot of races, and I've also organized volunteers at water stations.  Somewhere there would be a little more water.  So I gave each of the trash-boxes a shake until - voila - one of them was heavy!  I rifled through it and pulled out an unopened gallon, filled up my bottle, then began filling all the empty cups in outstretched hands that suddenly appeared all around me.  A little bit in each, and we were feeding the masses.

It's a good point to debate:

Of course, each individual is responsible for their own health and well-being: to train, eat, drink, and pace appropriately for their own ability level.  The sport is growing, median times are getting slower, the field is getting older, and the field is getting bigger.  These figures are all great news to me: they mean that more people are challenging themselves with the marathon, and in turn likely getting moving, getting outside, losing weight, lowering their blood pressure, getting healthy, feeling empowered.  At the same time, more novices are entering races, many without the good tutelage of a coach, and sometimes getting in a bit over their heads.  Half-marathons aren't easy.  There were a lot of sirens blaring throughout the day, and that's bad news.

On the other hand, an entrant of any level makes a deal with the race organizers:  I'll give you $90, and you give me a safe place to run with the amenities listed in the race packet.  A course measured to be a certain distance, closed to traffic by police officers and barricades, hopefully in some kind of scenic location, within a certain cut-off time.  Water and Gatorade at given mileages.  Medical assistance.  One of the best parts of racing is trying out a new route and lightening up your own load by not having to carry all your own nourishment.  I like to be "lean and mean" on race day, carrying as little as possible with me (both in terms of physical and emotional baggage), but do recognize that I take a little risk in doing so.  I count on the race to give me the kind of nourishment they say, at the places they say.  When it's not there, my performance starts to change.  If I run slowly because the day is hot and the race can't provide me water, I don't want to see someone hold up a black flag and tell me I won't get a finishing time.

I'll set that debate down right there and we can continue in the comments or through the emails, yes?

I'm glad I made the trip.  The race was a lot of fun for me.  It was hot, but what the heck.  I poured water on my head (and Mandee's too, which I don't think she had tried before because she seemed to *really* like it) and kept smiling and moving forward.  What else can you do?  Stand in the finish chute to cheer in the rest of your friends, then celebrate with a cheeseburger.

The long way home

Happy 4th of July!

This weekend took me back to my parents' home - my "boyhood home", you might call it - on the rural far east side of Cleveland, Ohio.  It had been two years since I had been there, and although now I call Madison my residence, I was immediately relaxed and happy - this place is a part of me and one where I feel at home.

By way of Janesville, and the second annual Rock Roll n Run triathlon!  This is a small but mighty race: it's a sprint distance, with a fast swim downstream in the Rock River, a 14-mile rectangular bike ride through farm country, and a 3.1-mile run through downtown Janesville, featuring the Saturday farmers' market!  This year, 195 people participated in the race, many of them first-timers to the sport.  I had the joy of chatting with one newbie on the way into transition from the car - she was excited and I welcomed her!  My tri friends Lynn and Julia also came down to the race - not quite the group of 9 we rassled up last year, but very nice to be in the company of friends.  To boot, Julia won her age group, and Lynn took 5 whole minutes off her swim time from last year!  If you're in the area, save the date for the 2012 race.  The weather was hot and humid, and it was a good day for finding my edge, which I did.  It was well inside of the proverbial "pain cave."

There wasn't a shower on site, but there was a hose: that was enough to get me feeling somewhat clean after a tough day.  With a change of clothes and stick of deodorant, I put on my compression socks (and Crocs) and hit the road: since I was already an hour south, I figured why not just drive the other 8 1/2 hours over to Cleveland?!  It was a long haul, but I had some podcasts, good music, and good phone conversations to keep me occupied.  525 miles (and 1 time zone) later, I pulled in around 8pm, to a lush scene of flowers and landscaping: this is my parents' biggest hobby, and it certainly shows.  Only moments later did another car pull in, carrying my Texan brother's family back from a day trip, and streaming out of the doors were my two little nieces, running to me yelling "DAAAAAANNN!"  With that kind of welcome, I didn't even need to hold up my trophy from the race, I had all the accolades I needed.

Since my brothers and I grew up, the focus of these weekends has shifted to the little girls: the nieces and granddaughters.  Rightfully so, because they are very cute and a lot of fun.  I was glad to provide them with a lot of smiles, and probably some different perspectives than they were used to hearing, because my life is a lot different from theirs.  For the Fourth, the family went to Uncle Bill's house, a quintessential family meeting place for decades.  Bill has a large yard and deck, and even dug himself a lake - a fun place to play and a good place to land at the bottom of the single-kicker he uses in training Olympic-bound aerial freestyle skiers!

This time I added my own twist to the trip: since I had come by way of the Tri and had all my gear with me, I rode my bike to Bill's house.  I had done this once before, and everyone recalled it: back in high school, before I was in much shape, I attempted this ride... after riding for probably a couple hours, including over gravel roads, I ended up flatting my tire, and since of course I didn't have any repair equipment with me, I stashed the bike in some trees, and ran the last few miles to Bill's house.  No problem running because, of course, I didn't have clipless pedals either.  This time, it was a 17-mile cruise on my racing bike, over smooth paved roads at a high rate of speed: I knew the route so well from all my life's trips, even all the little hills, but it all looked completely different from the handlebars.  I reflected on what a different man I've become over those years, how I've come to see things differently.  Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had gotten in shape earlier - but I let these thoughts float by quickly.

As I climbed the final hill, I looked over my shoulder and saw that red car with Wisconsin license plates, and threw the hammer to stay in front of Mom and Dad.... with a 41-mph descent on the final hill, I stayed in the lead as we rolled into Bill's driveway!  I gave the family a quick hello, then ran right into the lake, where I stayed for the remainder of the day.  The ride only took me 50 minutes, but the family talked all day about what a feat this had been.  I guess I've come to see things a lot differently in this respect.

On Wednesday morning after breakfast and hugs goodbye, I hit the road to head back home to Wisconsin.  It was a good visit, and I never like to leave.  It was 7 am, and I was driving smoothly and gently, in a sentimental mood and thinking about the long haul ahead.  As I crossed town, I noticed that all those around me were making their way to work through the morning rush hour, darting in and out of lanes, zooming past, maneuvering, anxious.  It was almost as if all this was happening on a TV screen as I gently made my way.  I was satisfied with the progress I was making, knowing that I had to be patient for the day and just keep on going, regardless of these other drivers' objectives.  "Ride your ride."  When the gun goes off at 7am, I get to pick how I expend my energy, and although I share the road with the other racers, all I have to offer it is my own goal.  I made several stops to fill up my water bottle and use the bathroom, I tuned in to good music, and I gradually let go of the pain of having to leave this comfortable weekend behind.  There will be comfortable weekends ahead.  There is comfort in a long day on the road, with nothing else to do but keep moving forward.

When I pulled into my driveway in Madison around 4 in the afternoon, I thought, "In September, this is right about when I'll be starting my marathon."