Put it on the Calendar, then Be Inspired.

Beginning triathlon tip of the week:

"Put it on the calendar!"

Nothing helps keep my diet in line, my training on track, and my life in balance, more than registering for a couple of events.  The bigger the event, the more strictly I adhere to my nutrition plan and training schedule. The nearer the event, the same stands true.  If I've got a half marathon in two weeks, I won't allow myself to 'cheat'; especially on the nutrition side.  I don't want to be out there feeling like hell, all the while wondering if it was that pizza from a few nights back that threw a wrench in the spokes.


So, for 2014, I took my own advice.  I signed up for a number of events.  Two in particular have my full and undivided attention:

• My 1st & 2nd ever half-marathon trail runs.
• My 1st & 2nd ever Olympic Distance Triathlons.
• Three Century + group rides, including 'The Most Beautiful Ride in America" circling Lake Tahoe, California.
• "B" Race ~ The Wildflower Triathlon
• "A" Race ~ Ironman Lake Tahoe

These aren't incidental events.  They're purposeful; strategic.  We'll go over putting your race schedule together in a future post.

Since my last post, I've completed a couple of events that I thought I'd share as well.



T1 - Pleasanton Tri For Real 2013

Tri For Real - Sprint Triathlon

~ Pleasanton, CA

~On Your Mark Events

A typical sprint distance race, but really, really well organized:

• 700 yard open water, lake swim
• 18 mile bike
• 4 mile trail run
• 1:49:25
• 105 of 271 overall
• 17 of 31 45-49

DiabloMan - Sprint Triathlon

~ Walnut Creek, CA
~Tri-Freaks

An even shorter, but brutal triathlon.

• 450m pool swim
• 14 mile bike
• 3.5 mile run
• 4,000 ft of climbing on the bike. 950 ft of climbing on the run, that over just 1.75 miles. 
• 2:44:37
• 45 of 69 overall
• 12 of 17 40-49 

Crystal Springs Trail Run - Half Marathon Trail Run
~ Woodside, CA
~Coastal Trail Runs

A beautiful race, in a beautiful place. I don't think I'll ever miss one of these races.

• 13.1 miles of single track trail
• 2,800 ft. of climbing
• 2:27.25 (results not available at time of post_

So, I'll say it again; put 'em on the calendar.  It's far harder to eat that doughnut or drink that martini when you know you're going to pay for it in the worst way.  It's easier to lace up those shoes at dark thirty, or to swim with the steam rising from the pool at 10PM, when you know you have to

And now for the rest of the story: 

~Being inspired.  Find something bigger than you to race for.

By far, the most persistent life dream I've had has been to race at the Ironman World Championships in Kona.  With that always at the top of my mind, why then have I not yet been there? The answer is simple: Excuses; legitimate or otherwise, excuses are the culprit. So when am I going to get off my ass and actually go do Kona?  Well if you're reading this, you probably know that you don't just "Go" to Kona.  You earn your way to Kona, with phenomenal results.  Unless you're Chef Ramsay or Hines Ward (who mind you did a fantastic job and drew loads of interest and attention to the sport), you have to perform. I have an athletic background littered with lack of performance.  I better get started.

After suffering through, but enjoying Ironman California 70.3 in Oceanside last march, my goal now is to do my first "full".  A 140.6 mile triathlon.  But which one?  Honestly, it matters to me.  It's not that I have less respect for other events, but for me, personally, emotionally, I have to have a connection to an event.  I have to be emotionally vested or I just can't push myself through the dark places you go during endurance racing.  What is special about "IT"?  What is particularly brutal about "IT"?  What the hell is wrong with me when I immediately start Googling, "World's Hardest Ironman Races" and dreaming about what it must be like?  Lanzarote?  Where is that?  Oh man! That looks brutal! (with a curious and sadistic grin plastered to my face). As if 140.6 miles isn't brutal on it's own.

So, in order to become more informed, and even more motivated, I volunteered with a few friends at last year's inaugural Ironman Lake Tahoe 2014.  We witnessed a record number of DNS/DNFs first hand. I was and still am in awe.  It was absolutely freezing all day long. Literally, the sand on the beach was frozen!  The elevation left me searching for oxygen while jogging back to my truck for another bottle of water!  Witnessing the condition of the people coming out of T-2 (bike to run) left me speechless, inspired, and accepting of the fact that these athletes are simply, athletically out of my league. Ironman Lake Tahoe was going to have to wait.  But what an eye opener!

Then I got 'the call'. My aunt called me as I was assisting people out of T-2 and onto the run.  My cousin, Walden Grindle, a resident and permanent fixture of the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, was tragically killed in a speed flying accident just moments before she called. She didn't know where I was and wanted help locating and retrieving his truck.  I'll never forget the call.  Olympic Village at Squaw Valley will never be the same to me.

I did my best to finish volunteering "Catching" at the finish line, but I couldn't get my head back in the game.  I couldn't stop thinking about his wife of only 9 months. I couldn't stop thinking of my wife's broken heart and my young sons' first real exposure to death.  Their Uncle Walden, "Super Walden" (because he could fly), was gone.  He was married in Lake Tahoe.  I pulled my hood over my head, disappeared into the crowd of fans, families, and finishers, and ran to my truck to drive home.

I heard from a few the finishers on my drive home.  They all knew me, and knew my fitness level.  Some of them all but begged me NOT to make Ironman Lake Tahoe my first full.  It's simply a massive race. Some have written, and some have said, that it is truly the hardest 140.6 of all time.  This race boasts an average elevation of 6,500ft, with 8,400 of climbing on the bike alone. So where did that leave me?  It's simple.  It left me feeling incomplete. I went up there to be inspired.  I came home early, inspired beyond words. I woke up thinking, "Tahoe is never going to be the same until I cross that finish line."  My family and I drove to my grieving aunt's house. I waited for registration to open, then signed up.  I'm in.  This is the right race for me.

In short, now it's time to stop f'ing around.  I have adopted this mantra, and I can't even tell you where it's from, but it goes like this:

"Set your goals so high that you can't possibly achieve them...

...until you become someone who can."

I have a plan:   

with the support of "The Boss", Chris McCormack, and members of his training group (which I feel incredibly honored to be a part of), I've got a plan.  In fact, I've got a 35 week plan.  I've got races that I've added to my schedule, and some that I've removed.  Thanks to Rich Roll's program through MindBodyGreen, and Ben Greenfield (part of the MaccaX group) I've got my nutrition nailed; at least for now.  I'm not doing rides or runs beyond the 2 or 3 hour mark yet, so I still have some nutritional 'testing' to do before race day, but I'm on track.  Those long days, tough races, and purpose built sessions are on their way.  They're on the calendar. That said, gone are the days of misguided wondering.  Now it's simply a matter of execution. Execute the plan.  4k days in the pool, 100-150k rides, and 10-15 mile runs must become the norm. They can no longer be that "really tough session". With my focus being balance and wellness (for my family as well as for myself), each training session must be a strategic session, planned in advance, with a specific purpose.  This doesn't mean I won't enjoy myself, my runs, my rides, and my pool sessions, but it does mean that I'm closer than I've ever been to making this dream come true and I'm not going to screw it up now!

All for now, but more to come:

• What's working in nutrition, and what's not?
• What's bringing strength without injuries and/or fatigue?
• What's best helping to 'build that motor' aerobically?
• Struggles with equipment, gear, and funding.

Hugs.

My First Triathlon: Race-Report Ironman California 70.3

Accenture IRONMAN 70.3 California Oceanside

~ By Andy Blasquez

Here is my first ever race report from my first ever triathlon.

Ironman Foundation - and worth every penny.

Before I get into the full race reports, here's a quick Beginner Triathlon Tip of the Week.

This week I was reminded that Triathlon is a part of my life, rather than what I live for.  The week got away from me, time wise, and there was nothing I could do (or was willing to do) to put in more training than I did. 

Sunday: I did my first ever "Brick" workout: 1 miles swim, left the pool at the 31 minute mark, directly into a 100 minute trainer session at at Z2, 128-138 bpm averaging 171 watts.  
Wednesday: 60 minute Z2 trainer session at 178 watts
Friday, 100 minutes Z2 trainer session at 168 watts.

That's all I had!  That's it! I just had to let it go.  Tomorrow is another day, and I'm not getting paid to do this.  I'm doing this to enhance my life...not take it over.

I was in awe! 

For the record: 59 Degrees is cold.

To say that I was in awe of the event was an understatement.  Simply registering was mind blowing; standing
behind Miranda Carfre. After registration I immediately took my wetsuit for a trial run.  This would be my first ever open water swim.  Yes, it was Thursday and I was going to "Swim" in the ocean for the first time.  I've surfed and done scuba, but never "swam" as such.  I was told by someone in registration that the water was 59 degrees. That didn't mean anything to me.  I didn't have anything to compare it to. I do know that it was cold enough to immediately cause pretty severe pain in my head.  I tried swimming for about 20 minutes.  I tried to swim at all.  It just wasn't going to happen.  Not the way I wanted to start my race weekend.  

Thanks to a few volunteers for the suggestion, I grabbed an extra swim cap to keep my head warm.  That really did the trick.  My goggles fogged up quite a bit, but?  Maybe that's normal. I swam, with one eye on the pier, and one eye lookin' for the Men in the Gray Suits.  Cheers to small victories!  I didn't get swept out to sea, and didn't get eaten by a shark.  Game on!

The night before the race was overwhelming.  I didn't know how to put my numbers on my bike, what all the extra bags were for, where the transitions were, or how I might set them up in the morning.  Finally, about two hours later than I'd hoped, I was packed and all set for the morning to come.  Thankfully, the starting line was only 5 miles from our hotel.  Thanks honey!  GREAT job on accommodations!


Zero Dark Thirty

"People" have said that you can't sleep the night before a big race.  "People" are right. I tossed and turned all night, actually sort of giving up on sleep all together, and more or less praying for the clock to speed up so I could at least get out of bed and start the day. Eventually, the clock struck 3:30 AM and I was up.  I left a couple of minutes after 4 am and even snapped a picture of the clock in the car in an effort to amuse my younger brother.  He's one of my greatest supporters, and as a former motorcycle road racer, I knew he's appreciate the hour.

The anxiety of not even knowing where I was supposed to park to set up for T2...(or

Note the 'all pro' Monkey Graphics!

wait...was that T1)...really added to the stresses of the entire day.  Finally, however, I found a place to park not too far from T2.  I took my red bag and walked to T2.  I saw Rudy!  Yep! You know, Rudy Garcia Tolson? He's the young man with no legs who competes in international triathlons all over the world. Inspiration? Check! The morning just got even more intense! 

I set up T2 with a taste of 'home' and my real inspiration. I have two young sons, 6 & 8, a my bride who's been through so much.  My "official" transition towels are the boys' little toddler towels.  This way, if I'm lost in the chaos of transition, I can remember my true purpose. 
After setting up T2,  I headed back to the truck to grab my bike, swim bag, and T1 bag.  Looking rather like the Beverly Hillbillies with the amount of crap I was trying to carry on my bike, I headed to the harbor.

Still with a couple of hours before sunrise, I took a moment to soak up the view, and the energy of the event.  Gently coasting down the road toward the harbor, with athletes of all ages and abilities surrounding me, I heard a horrible crash.  My first real shot of adrenaline of the day! Someone immediately in front of me got one of their transition bags caught in the spokes of their front wheel, and literally flipped over the bars, landing with a heavy, head-first thump on the ground.  The unsuspecting victim laid bleeding on the ground in a pile of transition bags. Bystanders immediately came to her aid. All I could think of is, "Holy crap!  The day hasn't even started."  I stepped off the bike and re-situated my things.

After a short roll across the harbor bridge I walked my bike under the Ironman banner.  That was a special moment for me.  It was a little bitter-sweet, because with other similar experiences (playing live music at iconic venues with my older brother, and unloading a roadracing machine at Daytona International Speedway with my younger brother) I was alone.  I wanted to share the excitement, anxiety, and fear with someone who 'gets it'. That didn't happen...until later. I did, however, get an amazing feeling of "Wow, I'm actually here!" that came over me.  That in itself raised my heart rate.  Then, trying to re-focus on the task at hand, I got my nutrition sorted out, marked up my legs with my good luck markings, then really put on my race-face.

Smiled on by Paula Pezzo

Years back, I was a bit of a mess, but somehow through the pain that I always managed to prescribe myself, I could always hear my Grandmother's voice saying.  "Ok!"  Not so much in a tone of satisfaction or conviction, but in a tone as if to say, "OK! Well, I'm not sure what's next, but you're gonna be OK!"  When I raced my biggest race (up to that point of my life) I wrote "OK", in Sharpie marker, on my right thigh.  This way, when I was really suffering...I could hear that voice and somehow find peace.  This time though, things were different.  I wasn't a mess.  I was focused.  And although I still heard the comfort of my Grandmother's voice in my head, I had a more important, less self centered motivation; my wife, Adrianne, and my young sons, Michael and Jeffrey.  I'd only heard of the dreaded "Mount Mother F@#ker" on blog posts I'd read, but I knew that I'd find strength, when the moment came to dig deep, in the reminders sketched onto my thighs .

My motivation; to be better.

So, leg's inked up, I was off to get my numbers, then into my wetsuit.  Wait!  Do I leave my jersey on?  Yea, yea!  I saw that on some races I watched on YouTube, right?.  Ok...wait...no!  Wait, can I wear my heart rate monitor strap into the water?  MAN!  What am I even doing here?  So, monitor strap on, jersey on, slow down...what else do I need.  Go through what you visualized so many times and don't forget anything.  Slow down.  Sunscreen!  I know you put it on, but do it again.  This is going to be a long day.  One last trip to the 'boys room', and I was ready.

Oceanside is a wave start, so we lined up in waves; 24 waves in all.  I was in the 23rd.  OH MAN!  Really?  Am I going to be the last guy on the course?  What if everyone behind me is faster than me?  They probably are!  Who the F@#& does a 70.3 without loads of triathlon experience.  What a dork!  "It's OK".  Like Macca wrote about in his book, I'm here to win! you've filled your head with memories of success.  When it hurts, you know you can push through because you've done it in training so many times.  You deserve to be here!  Enjoy it!  If you're last, you're last.  Enjoy it."

Before I knew it, the leaders were coming out of the water!  They'd swam 1.2 miles already, and I'm 5 minutes away from even getting my toes wet.  But then it was time.  "OK, you can go!" said the volunteer at the bottom of the boat ramp.  So I took to the water. My first few breaths were very, very shallow.  It was bloody cold.  Cold like instant head ache cold.  I remember Macca talking about getting yourself acclimated to the water so I immediately took off for the start line about 150 yards away.  A bit of a sprint to get loosened up and get into race mode.  My brand new (to avoid fogging) goggles immediately filled with salt water.  They fit exactly as my previous ones did, but...the leaked.  So I stalled out and got my goggles and swim caps sorted out.  "Think calm. Think gliding. Think peace. You've got this." was going through my head.  My goal: 32 minutes.

On dry land.

The gun went off and I started swimming my race; calm, smooth, and steady.  About 45 seconds in I was gasping for air; actually gasping.  "Calm down." I told myself.  "You're fit. Just feel that glide. Breath every two if you need to."  But it never came...ever.  This swim was the worst experience I've ever had in the water.  If my family hadn't been so supportive, I'd have given up 400 yards in. That's the truth. Breast stroke, side stroke, freestyle...gasping. Breast stroke...freestyle again...gasping.  I never swam really swam.  I never found my rhythm.  After what felt like an hour, I finally got out of the water and ran up the ramp thinking, "Thank GOD I got out of the water and I'm I can get onto my bike."

Climbing out of T1

I actually did have a smile on my face as I ran with my wetsuit pulled down to my waist.  "It's a new day." I thought to myself.  "I can handle this!"  T1 was LONG for me.  I just took my time and made sure I was ready for what might be a 4 hour ride.  Needless to say, I'm not fast. Nutrition, Sunscreen, other...uh...necessities, like Dave Zabriskie's "DZ Nuts!"  I didn't want to miss anything and pay for it later, so I took my time. I finally got on the bike and rolled! I remembered some of the MaccaX crew telling me not to get sucked into the easiness of the 1st half of the ride, or the 2nd half would make me pay.  I heeded that warning, and found success. Several of the athletes on their $8,000-$10,000 bikes that got out of the water behind me passed me like I was parked.  It didn't phase me a bit.  I remembered a comment that, Francesco, one of Macca's crew posted on our Facebook group; "Andy, it doesn't take a special bike!  It takes special legs, and you've got 'em." Most, of these big dollar bikes I re-passed on the 2nd half of the course.  Guys with fancy tri-bikes, once piece suits, areo helmets, and all the high tech stuff were grabbing their hamstrings, stuck on the side of the road at the steepest point of the ride.  For me, I was doing all I could to hang with this guy from Mexico on an old steel bike....wearing sneakers!  He had special legs too!  Over the last 12 miles I didn't get passed at all and easily and comfortably passed 80-100 athletes over the 30 minutes before getting to T2.  Oceanside is a beautiful race.  The bike leg is a dream ride.  Quiet, safe, fun, and challenging.

Heading into T2

T2!  I'm gonna make it! I cruised into T2 feeling fantastic!  It wasn't a fast ride, but to be honest, I'd only run 13.1 miles twice in my life, neither time was very pretty.  My goal was to show up to the run with a fresh mind, body, and soul.  I did just that!  "Ok, sit down, socks, more sunscreen, more DZ Nuts, more nutrition, Salt Stick tablets, glasses, compression socks, number belt, Macca visor (with a little tiny bit of pride), shoes" and I was on my way.  My plan was to walk to T2 exit.  I did that.  Then an easy jog.  My 10k pace is 9min/mi.  Anything near that would be great...for me.  1st mile was all smiles. I feel fantastic.  I feel pretty fast.  I don't want to change anything because I feel fantastic.  Then, 400 yards later...it hit again.  The gasping that I felt in the morning's swim!  It was JUST like when I was in the water.  I could go as slowly as I wanted, but I could NOT catch my breath?  "Don't walk, just run slowly and smoothly!  If you start to walk...you'll keep walking.  Just be smooth and steady!"

Jeffrey (5) and Michael (7) - Team Daddy

I ran, more and more slowly.  I was really uncomfortable, and only about 2 1/2 miles in.  Holy crap!  This is gonna suck!  My heart rate was very low, but I couldn't breath!  Then...just then...boom! My wife and kids were there! I almost cried! I was so excited to see them all.  Adrianne had made shirts for the boys.  "Team Daddy!"  I heard them screaming with their eyes wide open. Their eyes were wide open!  They had smiles bigger than I'd ever seen!  "GO DADDY!" they all screamed! I jogged over to them and hugged them all!Then I remembered.  I've got about 10 miles left.  This could be a long day still.  But what a lift they gave me!  They were out there for me!  Mommy, Michael, and Jeffrey!  Man...that's love! I set off again, jogging away with buckets of motivation.  "GO DADDY, GO!"  I could hear them as I turned to run up the hill.  Then out of the corner of my eye, I could see them running kitty-corner across the parking lot to the other corner.  Laughing loudly, running, and screaming "We love you Daddy!"  My heart was full.

I made the turn away from the family and found a bit of a rhythm.  A couple minutes later, a guy came buy me and smiled.  "So. You must be Daddy!"  "Yep!" I replied.  "I'm feelin' pretty rich right now."

Built more for rugby or MMA than endurance, but I love this sport.

The run went on, continuing south for what felt like forever.  I'm still struggling with my breathing but, if I really bring my pace to a crawl, I'll be OK.  We went onto another street, away from the ocean, and I thought, "Am I 5 miles in? Am I 8 miles in?"  Then to the turn around.  "Ok, I'm headin' back now."  A couple of guys were just to my side when I heard one say to his partner, "Dude! This is 2 loops?"  "Yeah." was the response.  "Oh F@#%!" was the reply back.  Exactly my thoughts.  "Wait.  Wait!  I'm not even half way done?  Oh my.  My family is sitting on the side of the road and I'm in trouble.  I have more than 7 miles to go.  At this point, who knows how long that is going to be."  Then came the walk.  The news that I was still so far away just sucked the soul out of me.  I did a little walk jog, then some more running.  "Andy!  Andy!  It's Milhouse! You're doing it!  You're really doing it!", came from the other side; lap 2.  I crossed into the oncoming lane and stole a hug and a high-five from another one of Macca's crew.  It brought me back.  "Focus.  Yea!  If I just saw him, I'll see him again on his way back, plus I have my family...on the way back out...and at the finish!  I can do it!"

Back to start finish.  "Ok, I'm half way there."  I then stumbled upon a guy that was in about the same physical and emotional condition I was.  We ran silently, side by side, for about 5 minutes.  Finally, I broke the silence.  I needed to get my head somewhere else, and I hoped I wasn't interfering with his Zen moment.  "So why are you here, mate?" I said, with the rhythm of my breathing breaking up the question. The guy turned to me and I noticed,...no hair...no eyebrows.  I wondered if, in a selfish moment, I'd stepped somewhere I shouldn't have.  The gentleman told me that he'd just lost his best friend to cancer.  He'd shaved his head, beard, and eyebrows off, in honor of his fallen mate.  "Whew! That's great friend! Great motivation. I'm sure your friend is smiling!"  "Yep!  I can...feel him." he said with a tear in his eyes.  So why are you here?" he asked me.  "Yea...well..." Nothing came out.  "Things...I...well....things have been..." I couldn't even get the words out. After a very long pause,  "...hard. I'm just really, really happy to be here and proud to run next to you." I couldn't bring myself to share the seas of struggles, the mistakes, the broken heartedness, the injuries, and the self disappointment that I'd endured to get hear. I was doing Ironman California 70.3, and I'd just started lap two.  It hit me again. "I'm on the last lap!  That means there's no way out...but to finish!"  

Finally, with some friendly chats, some deeper than others, and cheers from Milhouse and my family, I saw the finish line.  Again, I'd visualized this in my head 100 times; 1,000 times.  I was going to grab my MaccaX visor in my right hand, and the picture of my family in the other, and reach my goal; I finished.  6:55.  A long day.  A stunning, beautiful, and life improving day.

The 1st will always be special

I crossed the line into the arms of my wife and kids.  I did something good.  I showed our boys that if you try hard enough; if you never, ever give up, you can do whatever you want. 

Motorsports was easy for me.  Going fast was natural.  This, Ironman; it's really, really hard for me.  The boys picked up a habit.  They'd ask me, every night, after reading bedtime stories and brushing their teeth, "Daddy!  Are you going swimming now?"  "Yep!", I'd say.  "Wow!  You're going to be fast Daddy!  I think you're going to win!" I would simply reply, "I'm going to try boys.  I'm going to try."

That afternoon, I was aching, but still all smiles. Aches fade.  We'd stood in the Oceanside surf for about an hour after the race, watching the kids splash and be kids, while blissfully allowing my muscles to enjoy the comfort of the ice cold water.  Then we ate.  I ate like I'd never eaten before.  I just wanted to eat everything!  Then we were off to the hotel.  Again, Adrianne's support was evident.  I got to soak in an ice bath.  The boys were well cared for...and I just soaked it all up.  I received calls from my brothers and sister, and my folks too.  My cell phone was blowing up with text messages from people who'd followed my progress online.  I was so happy.  I am so happy.

Unforgettable

Finally, about 9:30 or 10 PM, I got up to tuck in our boys and to thank them for being there with me.  I told them how thankful I was that they were there to share this special day with me.  Our son Jeffrey (5) said, (and I'll never, ever forget this...) "It's OK Daddy!  You did your best!  Thank you for winning a medal."  Then to my 7 year old son, Michael.  "Dad, I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that I'll never, ever forget putting that medal around your neck." Then he gave me a hug; the kind you don't forget.

You know, people sometimes ask why I would put myself through so much to do this in the first place? To me...I think...

...how could I not?