Reality check weekend

I'll admit I underestimated this weekend's workout schedule.
We all spent the weekend at Indian Lake, where Mom and Dad were hosting a family reunion for Mom's side of the family.

Saturday I had a one-hour ride. I forgot to look up the purpose of this ride, so I headed out with my brother (see photo) and we rode it mostly easy with a few sections really pushing it. Then the party started, and I proceeded to eat a lot of stuff I don't normally eat. I'm talking about filling up a plate at the dessert table, and then going back for seconds -- of dessert.

Sunday was scheduled to be a big day, and luckily for me I didn't add up the total hours of straight exercise before it began. It ended up being almost eight hours in motion, counting the transitions and a water stop.
I decided in advance that I would move the whole three-sport workout block a bit later in the day, so that I could put myself through some heat, and also experience beginning my run in the late afternoon, as I will on race day. Normally my bikes and runs start at 6:30 a.m., so I haven't really gotten a lot of practice being out in the heat of the day, all day.

So I woke up Sunday, went to church with Mom and Dad, came home and ate breakfast. Before I actually sat down to eat, I went to pump up my tires and broke off part of the valve stem. That meant I needed to change the tube before starting my workout day. And it meant riding from Indian Lake to Columbus with no spare tube. I decided to eat breakfast first, then do a timed tire change to see how fast I am (while digesting my breakfast) and then head out for the swim.

It took me 12 minutes to change the tube, and that is with my easy wheels and my easy tires. Should I get a flat with my race wheels, it will take longer. But I'm not going to get a flat. No I am not. If I do, I will change it quickly and efficiently and get back on the road.

My brother was nice enough to offer to be my kayak escort for my 90-minute swim. Because it was a little later in the morning, and the air was warming up quickly compared to the water, we had some wind and a bit of chop.
Just what I was hoping for.

I haven't had many open water swims this year where I really had to battle waves, and I want to be ready for Lake Erie. (The photo on the right is from the morning before, when the water was much calmer.)

I did one lap around Tecumseh Island and Minnewauken Island together, and that put us at 50 minutes. One more lap around Tecumseh alone got me to 88 minutes and some seconds. Good enough for me. One family out in their lawn chairs did notice that Jim and I had come around twice and were asking Jim some questions. When I was breathing to his side, I saw him motioning and talking and popped up, in case he was talking to me. That's when I realized he was talking to the family, and they asked what I was training for. I told them and they wished me luck, which was cool.
Google Maps shows the distance I swam to be about 2.5 miles. So that's nice, but I was hoping for a better time. I did swim it with no wetsuit, so I'll be faster than that on race day, if conditions are similar. (My wetsuit is in San Francisco! Training buddy Nicole swam from Alcatraz wearing it!)

I climbed out of the water and went around the front of the house to my bike. I stopped inside the back door for my bottles of drink, my jersey, my heartrate monitor, and other odds and ends. My Clif bars, directions and notes written on index cards for all the major turns were already packed on the bike.

I said goodbye to everyone and set off. It was cool at first, since I was wet from the swim.

That didn't last long.

After an hour, all my cold drinks were warm, if not hot. But I was making good progress and having no problems with the navigation. No wrong turns. I stopped at the 35-mile mark in Raymond, Ohio, at the gas station and IGA that I passed up when I did the ride going the other direction several weeks ago. (See the first post on my training, back in June, entitled "UGH," which refers to that ride as my "worst ride ever.") I bought three 20-bottles of cold water, mixed up two fresh bottles of sports drink, poured my warm bottle of water on my head, and replaced it with cold.

One hour later, one bottle of sports drink was consumed and the other was disgustingly hot. Hot like a bottle of water you left in the car on a summer day, and reached for and took a sip before being unpleasantly reminded of just how hot it was in the car before you turned on the AC. The bottle of plain water was in my back center jersey pocket, and kind of a pain to remove and replace. Even though hot water sounded better than hot sports drink, I didn't bother to get it out. I kept trying to force myself to drink the hot sports drink, knowing I had a long run coming up. I made it through Marysville, and told myself I HAD to finish my second Clif bar before turning off Industrial Parkway to head into Dublin. I did manage that, but it was tough.

Once in Dublin, I really quit drinking anything. I still had an hour of riding, but it was in heavy traffic. That's really just an excuse, though. Actually I just couldn't bring myself to drink stuff that tasted hotter than my mouth and stomach. I took a salt tablet to make myself thirsty, and it did make me thirsty but I could still hardly choke anything down.

I did a good job of staying mentally alert, because the riding was difficult in the last hour. In the city, you have to watch for turning cars, people coming up beside you, broken glass in the road, debris, potholes, traffic lights, etc. It really makes you appreciate the cows and the cornfields!

I found a bit of a back route home, since my house is essentially off a freeway, and it really isn't safe to ride the last mile or so on the road that is most obvious. I ended up on the bike path for the last mile, and saw a nice family out for a ride with their daughter. I headed up the hill to the house, and as I was turning onto the court, David and the kids were heading out on a bike ride. (They had driven home from the lake in the car, of course.) They turned around and helped me get ready to run. I finished the bike in four hours and 23 minutes, about 45 minutes faster than the last time I did that ride in June. I am not counting in there the time I spent during the June ride lying in the grass near tears because of how terrible it was going. (My bike speedometer automatically stops the timer when the bike isn't moving.)

It was a pretty quick transition. I ran into the house to use the bathroom, but I was pretty speedy switching shoes, grabbing my Camelbak filled with water, and emptying my pockets of maps and water bottles. David said I stank. He usually doesn't comment, so I must have been pretty smelly. Later I figured out that I had some lake scum stuck in my top all day long from the swim. Nice.

When I started down the street, I felt like I was really plodding along. I didn't feel nice and quick like I felt off the bike last weekend after 120 miles. Today I had only done 71 miles, but it was about 10-15 degrees hotter. It seems like that makes all the difference. Still, when I looked at my watch, I was running my normal 9:30/mile pace. So that was comforting. I went down to the path and really had to battle some mental demons to avoid a walk break. I still felt very, very hot. I decided once I passed a certain landmark after a couple miles, I would give myself a reward. The bike path runs along a large creek (or small river). So I let myself go down to the edge and get some cool water on my skin. I washed it over my arms and legs, and that felt pretty good, but I was still hot. I scooped up water from the creek and threw it onto my shorts and shirt, and dipped my hat in it, too. That made a big difference. When I climbed back onto the path and started running again, I finally felt cool.

Until everything dried, about 15 minutes later.

The family I had seen when I was biking passed by again, going north.

I was still running the same pace, but feeling terrible. I had gone about 3.5 miles, and I felt like I was at mile 17 of the marathon. Not good. I told myself I could run as slow as I wanted, as long as I didn't walk. I was able to slow it down to about 10:15/mile, and that helped bring my heart rate down, as well. (Last week, I finally managed to get to the battery store and replace the battery in my heart rate monitor, which has been dead for two months.)

For a 90-minute run, the normal obvious time to turn around is 45 minutes. But this was a mental battle as well. I ran the first two or three miles at a faster pace, and I figured I wasn't going to suddenly speed up. So maybe I should turn around at 40 minutes. No, no. Then I would just be setting myself up to walk. I better turn around at 45 minutes, and if I'm not home after 90 minutes, that's my punishment for slowing down. Yes, but it's really hot and I feel terrible. OK, how about turning around at 44 minutes? I don't know. 42 seems like a good number. (Cue Eye of the Tiger lyrics in my head.)

This back-and-forth went on for a couple minutes. Sadly, I didn't recognize it and get it under control. But I did settle on 43 minutes. At 43 minutes, I gave myself another "creek bath" and turned around. The way back was not great, but at least I was heading home. I saw the same family AGAIN and stopped for a second to talk. They were out exploring, and they commented on my Camelbak. I complimented them on riding for such a long time, and went on my way. I looked at the mileage and imagined where I would be on the Ironman course. That was cool, until I realized I would only be in downtown Sandusky the FIRST TIME, and would still have to run the Causeway, see the finish, turn around, and go out again. Then it started to hit me how incredible hard this thing is going to be. It's going to take everything I have.

I reached my court at 88 minutes. I did not turn in. I ran another minute and a half down the street, bypassing my court. I turned around late to make sure I would have 90 minutes in before I reached home.

I did it.

I felt really terrible afterward, but my recovery (overall) from this workout has not been bad at all. Sunday night I couldn't eat a whole lot, and once I showered I just wanted to lie down. We had family dinner and I got the kids ready for bed and tucked in, and that was about all I had in me. I declared Monday a rest day from working out.

I expected to feel awful at work Monday, but in fact I felt pretty good. I would say this is the best my knee has felt since the crash. Walking down the stairs was very difficult Sunday night, but hardly noticeable Monday morning.

I guess that means I have a little more in me than that.