IM Canada Race Sentiments

No racing logistics in this post, just feelings...before I forget. First of all, unlike full Vineman and IMCDA, where I also failed to go under 10 hours, I feel no shame or embarrassment. In the last three weeks, I've come to learn that racing an ironman is a part of life, but not life itself. Just like at full Vineman, I went into Canada totally confident in my training, my strategy, and my ability to break 10 hours or at least come very very close. At race check-in, once I learned that I was #1000, this feeling of "this is oh-so right" came over me. This was going to be the race. I can't think of a better mentality to carry into an ironman.

Race morning, my attitude felt just like it did at IMOZ, my best ironman. Jill and Taylor left a note on my transition bags wishing me good luck, and to suffer...it was a good start to the day. Everything was just in sync and I conducted everything I needed to do in a calm matter, and I carried a quiet confidence. I never felt rushed and I was at the swim start early so that I could swim out into the lake. Once I was about 200 yards from shore, I took a moment to pray for my friend Jeff, and to have a quick chat with mom (as I'm accustomed to doing before almost all of my races). Then I headed back to shore and not long after, it was go time!

I remember rounding the last buoy of the swim, and thinking, I nailed the swim. Each time, it felt hard, I focused on the task at hand, I tried to keep my stroke long and strong, or I tried to inject some speed to make it even harder. Jeff popped in my head and I thought, as promised, I pushed that swim, even when it hurt.

Ironically, though my bike race was unfortunate, there were a lot of highlights. First, so many competitors came up on me and said, "YOU HAVE THE COOLEST NUMBER!", and they were so genuinely excited that it always filled me with that ironman race magic that competitors give to each other. Second, a guy (John) comes up on me and he looked over and said, "I read your blog and I like the stuff you write about" or something to that effect. John and I have been racing against each other for probably over 12 year, but I've never spoken to him because race day always brought on our game faces. When John took the time to shout what he did to me, when I was feeling horrible, it gave me a much needed boost. Also, I've always had so much respect for John as an athlete (this guy can ride and run like a banshee) but like I said, game faces just always made things a bit too intimidating. So John, if you are reading, thank you for telling me you like my blog, I have mad respect for you and that compliment, paid at that moment, did more than you probably know. I was in awe of the women out there on Sunday. I've never seen so many women mix it up with the boys and come out on top. One woman came up on me and she took the time to say, your pedal stroke looks so smooth and beautiful. I struggle a lot with cycling, and I have never considered myself a cyclist. To be told that I look good on this machine that I've always thought I had no affinity was a bit shocking to hear, but injected me with some good race mojo. And finally, I've never ridden a bike course that was so well spectated in the least likely of places, deep deep into the course. There were TN multisport athletes dressed in speedos and afros, and of course, there were Taylor and Jill telling me to suffer more!

I was in a world of hurt coming into T2. My initial thought was I can't run a marathon after barely making it through the bike, and throwing up all of my nutrition. Once again, Jeff popped in my head, and that's all I needed. I was going to finish at whatever cost (other than death, I've come close to learning that lesson and never again). For the first time, I wish the course wasn't so well-spectated. I knew a good ole vomit-fest was working its way up, and sure enough, right at the crowd tipping point, it all came out. But rather than hearing, eeewww or gross, I heard so many people shout to me, "You got it out, now start running! You can do it!" I was carried on by the crowd for the remainder of the run. And as I ran, I saw friends, or newly made friends from the bike ride, and with each exchange, my quiet confidence came back, and so did my enjoyment and love for this sport and the people. I saw my teammates, and knew they were struggling, but they were keeping up the good fight, like I knew they would. On the way back, I saw John ahead walking, very unlike him and his mad run skillz. I wanted to return the favor and give back to him the strength he handed to me on the bike. I slowed, patted him on the back and asked if he was taking care of himself nutritionally, and I told him he doesn't have to prove anything to me, I've seen him crush dreams on the run. And then further up the road, I saw my friend Tyler, who is doing his first ironman. Tyler is a former college swimmer and he has a HUGE engine. I was actually shocked to see him walking, he is just so tough. I made a decision to break my goal of not walking once I got to him to exchange some words, I mean, when are we ever going to be in THIS moment again. After Tyler, with each person I passed, some memory of the past three years of trying to break this damn 10-hour barrier and getting a Kona slot would pop into my head. Without knowing it at the time, I guess I was saying goodbye to this 3-year project, and leaving it all out on the course. My walk down memory lane was brief as I entered another world of hurt between miles 22-24 and I just focused on not walking and getting to the finish. And then when I heard the announcer say that I had a chance to break 11-hours, the mushy, sentimental stuff was replaced by an instinct to race, to get across that damn line under 11 hours. And I did with 29 seconds to spare.

IM Canada Race Report

I decided to arrive a bit later to the race venue to save some money, and to spare myself all of the sitting/waiting in a hotel room that is associated with racing an ironman. I won't do this again. I arrived to Penticton on Friday, and it was too stressful trying to get everything done, all the while suffering from dehydration/headaches that usually accompany traveling. My advice is to arrive no later than Thursday afternoon for a Sunday race (for no time zone change that is). I flew into Spokane Thursday night and stayed with Matty and we drove up to Penticton the next day. This is a pretty good option for those wanting to avoid driving from Seattle or flying into Canada. Jill hooked me up with a homestay in Kaleden, which is just outside of Penticton. At $75 per night with no night minimum, Jill and I had the entire first floor to ourselves and we had access to a kitchen, swimming pool, and a great deck overlooking Skaha Lake, good stuff. Onto the race:

The swim: 58:25

I am really shocked by my swim time, based on feel, I really thought I dialed both my effort and my strategy to swim a 54-55. Some speculation: the day before the race, I hopped in the water and felt great. By "felt great", I mean I had great feel for the water (it's a swimmer thing). Come Sunday morning, I had no feel for the water during my warm-up. I swam with one other guy the entire time, and though I put in some hard efforts to pull away from him, we always stayed together. Maybe I ended up doing his swim race? And finally, maybe it's the Blue-Seventy? My swims have been mediocre all season and the only difference is the wetsuit. Two weeks ago, I swam a straight 4000, holding 1:17's for the first 2000 and 1:15's for the second 2000. On Wednesday of race week, I was holding 2:15's for 200's on the 2:30 and I was holding back. I KNOW I had the swim fitness to swim a 54-55. Though the Blue-Seventy has great shoulder flexibility, it doesn't feel as buoyant as my Zoot or a Sailfish. Like I said, all speculation, but I really am shocked because I felt the effort was the equivalent of a 54-55 minute swim.

The bike: 5:56:40

From the get go, my legs burned! My glutes hurt the most, and even sitting on the saddle was painful (and it was not a saddle sore pain, but actually the glute muscles themselves). Every time I tried to push to establish my pace, they just hurt. The pain was a combination of tightness, feeling bruised, and just burning. It's a good thing I had posted this the day before because I definitely needed this attitude to overcome this crazy burning in my legs. I just told myself to pedal, at whatever pace, just pedal and maybe things will come around. 40 km into the ride, the legs loosened up, but I just couldn't find the race gear just to hold my "conservative" pace toward Richter climb . Though I couldn't ride at my goal pace, I was looking forward to hitting Richter because if there is one thing I can do really well on the bike, it is climbing. But once again, I couldn't find that gear that I know I can when I'm climbing. Very few people passed me on the climb, but I also passed very few people, and really, climbing is my strength, even when I'm not trying to climb hard. But not today. I felt like I was in my training gear the entire bike ride. With about 40K to go, I started to feel a bit nauseous, I'm sure as a result of the 90°+ heat. At 30K, I tried to put food down my sensitive stomach to prepare for the run. At 20K, I vomited and with it, all of my precious calories and fluids. The last 10K, I bonked and I could barely turn the pedals over against the headwind. My speculation: My body was just having a really off day? Or maybe I was out of shape on the bike? I've been accused of overtraining all season, so my mantra going into Canada was better to be undercooked than overcooked. I now know with me, it is actually better to be overcooked. I lose my fitness too quickly. Before IMOZ where I rode a 5:30 , I rode 3 hours hard the Thursday before the race. Two weeks before the full Vineman, I raced hard and won a trail marathon with 5000' of climbing; and the following day, I rode 5 hours and ran 6 miles off the bike. Then, the Thursday before the full Vineman, I once again did a hard 3-hour ride. Three days later, I ended up riding my fastest ironman bike split (5:22). This time around, my longest ride in the last two weeks before the race was 3.5 hours, and during race week, I only rode 3 times, with the longest ride being 90 minutes. Once again, all speculation give me your thoughts!

The run: 3:55:05

Though this was not my best ironman run split, it is the run I am most proud. After getting off the bike totally depleted, I mentally prepared myself for a 14-hour ironman finish. I thought about my friend Jeff, and I set a goal to finish no matter how long it was going to take. I spent a good 5-6 minutes in transition, sipping water and taking what little food my stomach could take. One mile into the run, I threw everything up, right in front of the maddening crowd, which seemed to get even more mad. After throwing up, I felt much better, and set out to take it one mile at a time. I started on coke at the second aid station, a new record for me. I also set a goal to only walk the aid stations. Miles 2-15 were simply amazing. I couldn't stop thinking about my runs on Kona and how the heat in Canada wasn't even comparable. I drew so much strength just from this thought alone. Miles 15-18, I started to slow and I knew I had to take in food/salt and not fluids, but my stomach was also sensitive again. I tried to take a salt tablet at mile 17 and started dry-heaving and the pill came right back out. Miles 18-24 were slow but I never walked except for the aid stations. I came so so close to walking at a non-aid station but for the first time, I actually won the battle and I kept running. Turning onto Lakeshore for an out and back section before the finish, I heard the announcer say that those just turning onto Lakeshore have 10 minutes to break the 11-hour barrier, and something in me came to life. I dug deep and crossed the line under 11 hours with 30-seconds to spare. On this day, I equate breaking 11 hours to that of breaking 10 hours. I am proud of my run.

The result: 10:59:31 [290th OA, 57th AG]

It's late as I'm writing this and I'm tired. I just wanted to focus on the logistics of the race, but I will give more sentimental moments from race day in a later post. Because as my friend Tom posted on my FB wall, "Ironman is like pizza, even when it's bad, it's good!"

Because I Can

I've been holding my cards pretty close to my chest for IMC, unsure if I wanted to share what's been on my mind of late. But they say ironman is a journey, and many of you have followed me and will be following me online tomorrow, so I thought I would give you some insight on the title of the post. Three weeks ago, I learned that a friend was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I was even more stunned when a top-notched doctor at Stanford told him rather coldly, "I give you 4-5 months." Jeff didn't like that answer so he hustled over to UCSF, and he is being treated with both chemo and a clinical trial drug. Cancer is my biggest fear. I know cancer all too well, from my mother's death to breast cancer, to my studies as a cellular/molecular biologist, there are a lot of reasons for me to fear cancer.

When I first learned about Jeff's diagnosis, most days were normal with me living life as usual. But on several occasions, my mind would drift to Jeff, and I would empathize. When I put myself in his shoes, this whole IMC thing felt rather frivolous, and it was really hard to put my game face on for the race. Last week, my mind drifted again to Jeff and for some reason, rather than feeling frivolity, I felt gratitude. I was grateful because I can race. Since then, when I think about IMC, I think, "Because I can." And for some reason, I feel strong, and I feel ready to tackle whatever race day brings. It's a good feeling.

So come tomorrow when my arms start to burn during the swim, I will dig a bit deeper to shave off more time...because I can.

If I push it too hard out to and over Richter pass and I bonk, I will dig to get myself through the bonk...because I can.

If my stomach shuts down on me, I will be patient and wait until it comes back...because I can.

If I overheat, I will cool myself down or I will simply sit in the shade and rest until I can make my way to the finish..because I can.

Whatever the day brings tomorrow, I will race to go under 10 hours, race for an opportunity to earn a Kona slot, race to race, and I will enjoy every moment of it good or bad...because I can.

Jeff, you are a champion, I love you.

Sans Feedback

I am thinking about racing my next ironman with no feedback (power meter, Garmin, etc...), except for maybe a watch but only so that I can keep track of my nutrition. Though I think feedback is generally useful, where it can go wrong is when you are having an off day, or a bad patch on the course. If you aren't hitting your wattage or holding your pace, what good is it to quantify how bad you are doing? Racing for most people is about getting to the finish line in the least amount of time, and for those chasing championship slots, finishing ahead of your competition. At any point in the race, you should be going as hard/fast as you can but still finish the race in the shortest time possible. Also, feedback can lead to self-imposed limits, but what if your body is totally "on" and ready to race to a PR; and in the process breaking previous wattage/pace barriers. I wouldn't recommend racing "blindly" for most people, but for someone like myself, who has had such bad luck at the ironman distance, I'm ready to give this a go. I have yet to nail down an IM distance race, and I carry lots of demons from previous races. I just want to race IM Canada on feel, and just be in the moment with no clue as to how good or bad I'm doing.

I practiced this type of racing during my ride out to Hawi today. I did the entire ride on feel, with my sole goal being to finish the ride feeling strong. I didn't quite nail the feeling strong part, but I found it a nice change to not know how off the mark I was when I was riding tired. I just kept asking myself if I was riding as strong/fast as I can knowing that I have this much of the ride left. So at any point during those last fatiguing 25 miles, I was always trying to ride as fast as I could and still finish in the least amount of time. And the result? I finished averaging just 0.1 mph slower than my PR pace for this ride. I would have never guessed I was that close to my PR based on the way I was feeling. Had I saw numbers, I think I would have just beaten myself up mentally. What's that saying, "Ignorance is bliss?"

I fly home tomorrow, and I have a lot of fond memories from this trip. In typical fashion, I made a video of some of the highlights from the trip. There were definitely more highlights (training with Michelle), but my camera stopped taking pictures and videos.

And finally, I have a new Kona favorite. Check out Basik Acai! I had a nice talk with one of the very young owners yesterday, and the guy impressed me. He came off as a compassionate capitalist, and his desire to feed people good food in a place with a good vibe is worthy of your support. I'm a big fan of wheat grass shots and he told me, good wheat grass, like the organic stuff he sources from Kona, taste a bit sweet and not bitter like the cheap stuff. Basik Acai also has a Facebook page. My favorite is the Banyan Bowl.

Hell Hath No Fury Like...A Nutritional Bonk

The past couple of days of training, I was reminded of the importance of nutrition. On Wednesday, I had an epic bonk while doing a very hilly trail run with my friend Chris, who is training for a 50-miler. Not only did Chris extend our 90-minute run to almost two hours, but he did so setting a torrid pace. My longest run had been 80 minutes and nutritionally, my body could not take both the distance and pace. The last two miles were not training, it was survival. Upon arrival home, I was nauseous and my stomach was sensitive and I couldn't eat much. I basically had a smoothie and went to bed. The next day, I started what was intended to be a 3-hour hilly ride with some strong efforts. From the start, I knew I had not met my caloric needs from the bonk the day prior, but I soldiered on hoping for the best. Thoughts of turning around and going home crossed my mind, but staying true to my OCD/Type A triathlete self, I pushed on hoping I would come around. Well, 90-minutes into the ride, I was now trying to figure out how I would make it home. Like the run the day prior, this ride was no longer about training but about survival. Hell hath no fury like the nutritional bonk.

The nutritional bonk is absolute hell. It's the reason why you see age-groupers passing fit professionals on the race course, specifically ironman races. Once you are in the nutritional bonk, it is no longer about athleticism. You are no longer trying to move fast, but instead, you are just trying to move, or worse, stay upright. Not only does a nutritional bonk take a physical toll, it wreaks havoc on the mind as well. Your head is in a haze and you can't even think clearly to rectify the situation. At some point during my ride, I realized that I was no longer training but just trying to get home. I was still one hour from home and with two daunting climbs remaining, I somehow pulled a somewhat coherent thought, "Kiet, all you have right now is your attitude. Just keep a good attitude and keep trying..and keep eating." And just like that, I was doing very specific ironman training.

After two days of bonking, I decided to skip my run on Friday (mental note: the threshold for an OCD/Type A triathlete to make a wise decision is two consecutive bonk days). Saturday was a 7-hour training day and can you guess what I absolutely made sure I nailed besides the 3 x 40 min tempo climbs...my nutrition. My teammates were teasing me all day long about the amount of food I was eating. But guess who pulled away during the last 40-minute tempo climb with a full belly and equal amount of energy, guilty. Come Sunday, you would think I would be quite the sagacious one with nutrition. Nope. Once again, a nutritional nightmare but l problem-solved and got the work done. I'm now convinced that when it comes to triathlons, we are a couple of gels short of a disaster. I banked 22 hours this week and most of it, very ironman specific training. And yes, that is an egg on top of two meat patties, waiting for a bun with both bacon and cheese to lay on top. You only have one life...albeit a shorter life after putting that in my body.

SAT Words

gump·tion /ˈgəmpSHən/
Noun: Shrewd or spirited initiative and resourcefulnes.

met·tle /ˈmetl/
Noun: A person's ability to cope well with difficulties or to face a demanding situation in a spirited and resilient way.

Kiet will demonstrate his true mettle as he tries to prepare for IM Canada armed with gumption and a bit of moxy.

I came upon the word gumption on Meredith Kessler's blog. Given her string of bad luck, I thought I would find an ally in Meredith and see how she might be dealing with her predicament. When I saw the title of her most recent post, I immediately knew I came to the right place. Moving forward, I covet these two words as I prepare for Canada. Thank you to all of my supporters for still believing in me, and encouraging me to keep up the fight...at least one more time.

Recovery was oh-so easy. I wanted to swim, bike, and run the following day but I knew better. When I step back and go outside of myself, it's wild to think that I just swam 2.4 miles, biked 112 miles, and ran a marathon just last weekend--and both physically and mentally, I was jonesing to start back up this past week. Instead, I started back up on Sunday, with a nice and tapered feeling during the swim workout, and carried that feeling to a nice bike ride. Thank you to my PacWest teammates for the great company!