How To Win Kona Before The End Of The World

Race Week - Honu 70.3

Big one coming. I’m leaving LAX on Wednesday night for Kona, the place that has quickly become one of my favorite places on the planet. I’ll get a good day of tuning here in Los Angeles on Wednesday, make the 5.5 hour flight, and sleep in Waikoloa that night. Thursday is off. Friday I’ll wake up and put a little fire in everything before shutting down early and racing Saturday. The swim is a Hawaii swim, meaning it’s beautiful and perfect. Bike is a 56 mile battle to Havi and back. Run is supposed to be a bastard - golf course and grass and heat and thousands of turns and hills and madness! There’s been a fire burning in me since the disappointment in St. Croix and I feel the approaching need to race so hard I hurt myself. Doesn’t mean I’ll be going at it like a fool, but I won’t be playing safe or sitting back either.

The longer I’ve been doing this, the more I’ve come to accept this notion of triathlon giving out exactly what is deserved. On any given day, there is a LITTLE room for heroics and racing above ability, but the fitness built and fought and suffered for is far and away the greatest factor for success. When I was looking back at St. Croix on the plane ride home, the primary thing running through my mind was that I got exactly what I deserved. It wasn’t as much three 70.3’s in 5 weeks, but thinking I would keep improving in those weeks between, get better, and just steamroll these major goals I’ve set. And yes, I understand how foolish it must seem to be looking back at a stretch of races with such wisdom considering all these things happened mere weeks ago. But it does feel like that. Time will tell.

This is my last chance to qualify for the October Ironman World Championships. It’s a big deal to me, not the primary goal for 2012, but definitely the most profound. The only number I’ve been able to see in my head the last 3 weeks is #1 30-34. It’s likely #1 & #2 in my age group will qualify. The field will be fast enough that there’s no margin for error, anywhere. And not only that - I will also have to have my BEST race. That’s not nearly as daunting as it is exciting. I’m excited to swim well, redeem my bike in the eyes of the Queen K’s heat and wind from last year’s WC’s, and prove myself on what I know is going to be a challenging run. It has been keeping me up at night, the thought of dismounting and charging into that 13.1. My mind is already seeing it, whispering, “everything, everything, everything.” It’s already telling me that what I consider as everything isn’t going to be enough, and that I had better correct myself, and soon. It’s reminding me that I need to be 1st off the bike, and that accomplishing such a thing is no small task. It’s readying me for the coming furnace and the 80+ minute run and fighting off constantly threatening failure. It’s telling me that if I’m to attain what I’m out to attain, I must treat all of these things as delicate bad bitches and then dance dirty with them until there is no seeing straight.

bewuethr : First you say Europeans cheat, then you say next time you’ll also cheat… hu? Is your statement based on anything else than gut feeling? Do you think IM races here in Europe are just several packs of riders all drafting? I think not.

I appreciate this, because what I said could certainly be considered fighting words. If someone made a generalization on American sportsmanship, I’d probably come to defense. But I also believe you are missing my point - it’s not to drag Europeans or South Americans through the mud. I have a great affinity for both groups. One of the reasons I blog and left my journalism degree somewhere in a closet thousands of miles away is to be free of the obligation to fully substantiate my claims. My words are based on my experience at Vegas, then Kona, and now St. Croix, races that have a tightly packed, concentrated pool of talent where problems like drafting come into play. They’re based on conversations I’ve had in the past with groups of foreigners who have had a cavalier attitude when it comes to drafting. They’re based on my waiting on Sunday to say, “Way to ride ass, dick” to 7 out of 9 of the guys that passed me in the first group and giving up because the ESP, FRA, BRA, etc. on their uniforms made me feel like they weren’t going to understand. Meanwhile, 4 guys on the course who were grinding solo and sharing my sentiment were American and Canadian - guys who let the group go. Could have all completely been a coincidence, but then again maybe not.

I believe there’s a cultural difference between us when it comes to perception of certain moralities in sport. Neither better or worse, just different. An imperfect example is flopping in soccer, your football - players taking dives for a yellow card or to gain a penalty kick for their team. Is it not accepted as part of the game? Tactics to ultimately help your team and get the win? In America, people refuse to even watch the brilliant World Cup, or Champions League because the appearance of such tactics is the height of athletic shame. Imperfect example, but a demonstration of our differing lenses. When it comes to cycling, I feel as if Europeans bleed the sport - the Italians, French, Spanish. It’s so big over there. Triathlon racing is still in its infancy compared to most of the major world cycling events, events that have always been draft legal. Our side of the world’s history of the sport is more rooted in non-draft racing, while the rest of the world is rooted in the opposite, perhaps influencing our different perceptions on the sanctity of the rule. At the end of the day, when great stakes are on the line, stakes that have been fought and trained for, winning is paramount. It is. Other parts of the AG world have better understood that than I have in the past. We are racing. We are competing. We are not flying around the world, making grand sacrifices, saving hard earned dollars to chase Kona so we can lay in bed at night after a disappointing race and tell ourselves we did the RIGHT thing by sitting back. Of course I will avoid the draft at ALL COSTS - as I feel I’m a strong cyclist, and it will never actually help me, but if it happens again, and no penalties are being called and one of my dreams is running away with a peloton, I’m going after it. That doesn’t make me a lesser man or athlete. It makes me a practical, realistic one. Or so the debate begins again…

I’m not under the illusion that this happens all over IM races in Europe. It takes a very distinct set of race factors. There’s too much space between age groups and talent levels at most races to see it. But if I remember from checking in, you’re quite fast and getting faster, which means you could end up in a situation like mine in the near future. If you do, tell me how you deal with it. Then tell me how it feels to see it and be stuck in it. Catch 22 my overseas brother.

IM St. Croix - 60th OA, 13th AG

That was tough to say. It was even tougher to gradually feel over the course of almost 5 hours on Sunday. I went into the race feeling good and ready. When the gun sounded and we charged into the water, things felt alright. I swam 34 minutes, which was pretty decent given the course and my progression so far. We started the bike in the rain and I held steady with a plan to start kicking at mile 22 after The Beast. That was fine for a while. Something happened about 10 miles in - I looked back behind me to see the first of 2 ridiculous pelotons on the day, about 12 riders and moving up fast. If you don’t know, Ironman races aren’t draft legal. That’s because a group of weaker riders can get together in a pack, gain speed, work less, and bury stronger riders. It’s a ridiculous advantage, and absolutely demoralizing whether you break the rule and jump in or do the honest thing and let it go.

The thing about pack riding - it mostly happens in races with majority of international riders. There were a lot of Europeans and South Americans in St. Croix and they just don’t give a shit. I have ZERO problem making this generalization, and I’m sure they would have ZERO problem admitting to it. Internationals just have a different approach - if marshalls aren’t calling penalties, then drafting is part of the race. Zero penalties were called - even as I saw honest riders pointing it out to the marshalls - who were riding RIGHT BESIDE these groups for minutes at a time. It was unbelievable, but easier to swallow because I showed up on the day with a flat motor and terribly underperformed. Here’s what I’m getting at - drafting sucks, but ultimately these “rule breakers” I’m talking about are absolutely right. Like high winds, or rain, or currents, flaccid marshalls are part of a given day’s race conditions. When you cross the line, all that matters is placement. Whether that sounds defeated, it’s reality in the highly competitive, tightly spaced races. There is no moral high ground. No one cares. I’m sorry to say, but this is my justification, something I have to put down on paper, because if I would have barely missed a slot, and had to watch a drafter take my place, that guy would definitely meet me at the award ceremony. I can’t ever let that happen. This race, I stayed off. Next time, and with a heavy heart, I’ll do what it takes to get where I’m trying to go. My bike split was 16th in my age group on Sunday. Even when I have a terrible day, that’s simply ridiculous.

I’m looking forward to Honu 70.3 because I believe it’s going to be a mostly North American race - and this stuff just doesn’t happen at North American races. Basically because we freak out and berate each other if there’s even a chance of a rider sniffing someone else’s wheel. Also, Honu is a month out, and based on this last performance, I need a rest week to regroup and recover. St. Croix kicked my teeth out. But that’s part of this. If there was one race I was worried about flatlining, it was this one. I’m sorry it happened, but it’s time to box it up, use it, and move on.

Even though the conditions were nasty and I didn’t have a good day, it was special thing for me to compete on such a legendary course, against some of the world’s great triathletes. There were some incredible performances out there in the pro field, and maybe especially in my age group. The #1 & #2 30-34 should challenge for overall world amateur champs in Vegas and Kona. They flew. It’s inspiring.

Race Week

On Thursday morning, I’m going to St. Croix. This is Christianhead Harbor and I believe I’m staying in the pink building far right. You know those commercials for Hotwire where people talk about being able to afford 2 vacations by using THEIR site? Totally true. Hotwire got me a room for under 100 a night. 170 everywhere else. Astonishing truth in advertising!

Last night’s light lift marked the end one of the toughest training weeks I’ve had in a long, long time. It wasn’t necessarily volume heavy, but trying because I had to battle through the hangover of New Orleans and make it to an easier Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday before flying off. It wasn’t until Friday and Saturday last week that my efforts stopped feeling hollow. Yesterday, I had a hard battle with Latigo and change before feeling good and prepped for the treachery that awaits in the Caribbean.

St. Croix is major. It’s a unique and historic course. Also brutal. I’m expecting head currents in the swim, headwinds and major hills on the bike, hills and heat on the run. It’s also a qualifier for Kona. Even though the number of competitors in my AG are low, like in the 40’s, (although I wouldn’t be surprised if that changed overnight after Lance Armstrong entered) there are few bucket listers. Many are contenders who have raced in the World Championships at 70.3. Some are Kona vets. All will be looking to land on the island and have the race of their lives. That’s a very exciting prospect.

This is an important race for me. Yes, my fire still burns for Kona. After last year, I would argue my desire is even greater. But this will also mark my 3rd 70.3 in 5 weeks, and I need to prove to myself that I am not behaving as a glutton for this, but responsible enough to guide my body and mind through that level of competition. It’s important that St. Croix is my BEST race of the three, better than Oceanside 70.3, better than New Orleans 67.something.

I can feel the fight looming and on its way. I can see myself waking up Friday morning in my hotel room after a full travel day, walking out my front door, slipping into the harbor for a morning swim, and being exactly where I should be.

# Christiansted Harbor

IM NOLA - 43rd OA, 5th AG

Tough one in the Big Easy today. We started with a 2 mile run to replace the cancelled lake swim. Winds were ridiculous. If we had gone in the water, someone would have been lost in it. I rode with the amazing Zipp Firecrest 404/808 and was getting blown pretty hard. On days when the conditions are extreme, all you can do is simplify and battle. Early on, after logging some sluggish miles, I picked up the pace and caught a little wind to finish with a 24.4 mph average over the 52 miles. Solid effort. I came into the run with 2 guys in my age group, thinking at the time I was in first place - when actually, the first place guy was about a minute ahead. So I went out in 2nd, shoulder to shoulder with the guy who would wind up taking #2. He looked strong and I felt strong and we went out at about 6 flat. I thought today was a good day to put in a 1:20 half marathon, and absolutely felt like I had it in me. Slowly, he started to get away. By 7, he was gone and I was passed again. It’s not that I was fading HARD, but I was fading, and at Ironman races, if you stumble even in the slightest, someone will be there to make you pay for it.

I told myself to keep it together, to keep fighting, even though I was losing battles, even though the pain was starting to REALLY kick in around 9 - so that I could just hang on to 3rd. There were enough turnarounds that I could see the next guy coming. He looked done, even more than I was. With about 3 to go, I rallied and ramped it up (relatively), thinking to myself something taunting and arrogant like oh so sorry buddy not gonna happen today. At 11.5, he seemed to be flying past me, probably in the 6:05 range. I applauded, finally had to hit the port, left everything that was causing me pain behind, then finished with a mile that may have been sub 6. That was the day. Of course I planned on a better placing, but I fought hard with what I was given, so am absolutely happy that I came to New Orleans. My truth is that I need to run more. We did 15.1 today and I felt it. I’ve scraped by with the bare minimum mileage up until this point and that has to be my new point of focus. If I want to start winning AG and more, I need to get under 1:18 by August. Put that on the list.

***I’m off to the FQ with The Champion, also pictured (far right, and yes that’s Carfrae) I was going out for the second lap when I heard one of my Tower 26 buddies, Sarah Piampiano was going in for the WIN. Now, this girl is an absolute stud, so a win isn’t surprising - 2 YEARS FROM NOW!! Or so we all thought. Amazing. I literally yelled so loud when I heard the announcer, a child on the side of the road broke out crying. Maybe my proudest moment of the day. I know this is one of the most wretchedly abused statements on the planet, because we can’t all be so great…but this could not have happened to a better person.

Craig Alexander

Amazing interview 1 day after beating Cam Brown at Ironman Melbourne. It’ll probably go down as one of the great marathon battles in Ironman history - probably because most of us watching also for hours dreamed it culminating into a sprint finish, which unfortunately didn’t happen. Crowie grew on me in bunches last year, of course after seeing him obliterate fields in Vegas and Kona, but also because I opened my ears and really started to hear him. For a while, I was a Macca guy, and allegiance on one front seemed to mean you had to inexplicably distance yourself from the other. Crowie and Macca had always been Beatles and Stones. Gotta pick one, but why? BOTH make damn fine music in a world that appears short on supply. How could you not love this sport? Our greatest warriors are still perfecting their craft and learning to FIRE at 39 years of age. It’s brilliant.

So much in this interview speaks to the competitor and champion inside Craig Alexander. Anyone who has seen him already knows that exists. I think it says even more about the man. Small things here and there. Listen close. Listen far.

And if Macca doesn’t make London in 2012, look out Kona.

Breakfast Of Champions?

I’ve been playing with this for a while, adding and subtracting to see what works best for me early in the morning and usually before long stretches of training. They sell the bulk organic oatmeal at Whole Foods for 1.29 a pound, which is absolute robbery over the single serve packets. I go to nuts.com for my Chia, Spirulina, Chlorella, Maca and mixed dried berries on the cheap. Vanilla almond milk comes from Whole Foods, which I pour over a few scoops and eat cold. The end product looks a bit like swamp water, but it really does taste excellent and the health benefits are quite astounding. Pre-sunrise perfection.

New Orleans 70.3 - April 22nd

Just added. I’ve never been to the city and it felt like the right thing to do. This is the first of 2 tough stretches, fitting three 70.3’s into a 5 week stretch, ending with a beast in St. Croix. The next one will come in June, taking Hawaii and Alcatraz on back to back weekends - luckily a Saturday to Sunday. It means no matter what happens, another one’s coming. There’s something both daunting and refreshing about that. Mostly, I want to prove to myself that I can go out, take care of business and well while not getting hit by the invented, perceived drama of racing a full schedule. That’s a mouthful.

Shorter: race like a pro, even if they are killing you.

Shorter Shorter: fake it til you make it.

# Reilly Smith

# Triathlon

# Ironman 70.3 New Orleans

# Ironman

Ironman 70.3 California - #2 AG - 4:27

One step at a time. I’m convinced it’s the best and only way to approach this. I had never been on an Ironman 70.3 AG podium before so this was special. I’m proud of the effort that happened today against a tough, tough field. Anything called Ironman in California is guaranteed to be a dogfight from top to bottom, as much as any other world vicinity.

I’m not one for beat by beats, so the swim felt strong, and fast, and I was excited to put up a fast time until I saw it took me 31 minutes to get through the 1.2. Maybe the conditions were tougher than I thought? There were big waves past the breakers, and lots of people to move through. All I know is that I kept on thinking how proud Gerry was going to be with my blazing time and then…well, not so blazing. But that doesn’t really mean anything. I finished 17th in my AG. Without Tower 26 for the past 4 months, I would have placed somewhere in the 50’s, and timed somewhere in the 34’s. No doubt about it.

Bike was solid, run was a little better. #4 - 2:25 and #3 - 1:24 in AG, respectively. I’m still surprised they’ve evened out, as I feel like I should be gaining more ground on the bike. Eventually, that’ll come true. Eventually, the bike leaps I make will overtake the run. Eventually, I’ll be the anomaly bike split in the group, like the guy who rode a 2:17 today. By then, I’ll be ready to move on. All in time.

But this was a step. I’m able to go to my chart for 2012 and cross off a podium finish. For that, I’m proud and content. Tonight. Maybe even tomorrow. But there are many steps ahead, and every step is tougher…in some cases MUCH tougher. Why that is so beautiful to me, I’ll never be able to explain.

Last but hugely important — I want to give a big thanks for Hammer Nutrition for creating a line of products I would be lost without, also for the continuing support. You guys reached in and lifted me up in a time of need and I will not soon forget it. I just hope you’re ready for what’s coming…

# Gerry Rodrigues

# Ironman

# Ironman 70.3 California