See Tom Tri: One man's mental & physical journey training to be a 2012 IronMan®

IMAZ 2012 Swim: Don’t PANIC like I did (then again, I hope you do)

admin-tom — Sat, 02 Feb 2013 15:13:37 +0000

The story starts in Tempe Town Lake at the 2011 Ironman Arizona. Before the cannon shot off, I was under the bridge about 200 yards from the starting line in order to feel comfortable with so many people around. I was toward the middle to the back of the pack. I’m guessing it took me at least 20 minutes in the swim in 2011 to calm my breathing. I was moving in the water, but not necessarily swimming. Whenever someone got close to me, I’d let them pass, but eventually got into a groove and swam the rest of the way with no issues (except for a calf cramp with about 3/4 mile to go).

In 2012, I decided to start in the front of the pack. I was on the front line, right smack in the middle of the action (or the front of the action). Like the previous year, my breathing was short and heavy from when I entered the water till the cannon shot off. My breathing was so short and heavy, in fact, it was just shy of a panic feeling. As I’m waiting and wading for 7 am and the official start of the day, I kept telling myself to calm down….. It didn’t work.

My lack of confidence at that moment didn’t make me pull back from the front of the line (as I certainly should have done, so it seems in hindsight). In fact I couldn’t wait to start swimming, thinking that would make me calm down as it would have taken my mind off of how many other people were around me (only about 2300 others). In the grand scheme of things 2,300 people really isn’t that many. For some reason, on that particular morning it seemed like the whole world. Since there is no clock that can be seen from the water, my anticipation for the start seemed prolonged and made my anxiety a little worse. There was a moment I wished time stood still so the canon wouldn’t go off and I wouldn’t have to go. I usually don’t have any issues breathing and have a certain level of self confidence to feel like I can handle myself physically in any situation, but that morning there was nothing ‘physical’ I could do about it. My mind had control. It controlled my breathing and, soon my swimming ability.

BOOM, shot the cannon! Ohhhh crap! I got run over in a matter of seconds, I got kicked in the ear and got my right arm hung up on another swimmer’s body. Unfortunately, my breathing didn’t calm down. In fact, it got worse. I started to panic. A feeling I don’t remember feeling in my life. I was hyperventilating. I couldn’t even put my face in the water for one stroke. As I tried to keep my head above water, I just wanted it to be over. I spied a kayak and contemplated heading over to it to grab the front and tell the volunteer “I quit”. I had enough, but I had to keep moving forward to avoid getting run over more. Since I started in the (left to right) center, getting to that tiny kayak had more risk involved because I would have had to have gone cross traffic. Talk about a really difficult level of Frogger. What a crappy feeling that was.

With my ear throbbing, my right shoulder hurting, my legs now cramping up, and this hopeless feeling inside, I was just pulled (and pushed) inside the Tempe Town Washing Machine.

I had no concept of time. It may have been 2 minutes or 20 minutes later when I came to the realization that quitting really wasn’t an option. People flew all the way from Pennsylvania and everyone that cared about me was there (or tracking me online) just to see my try this. There was no way I was giving up. So, ultimately, I don’t know if it was my not wanting to fail with people watching or the reason I wanted to do this in the first place, to feel good about myself, that kept me from giving up.

Since we were heading toward the bright sunrise, and looking up to sight was futile, I tried something that blocked out all those ‘distractions’ (thousands of kicking legs and flailing arms in my personal space). I closed my eyes and pretended I was the only one in the lake, like the one in Allentown where I went by myself. It took only a few strokes, but there I was, all alone, in this giant lake. The sounds I heard were waves created by the wind, the things I felt touching my body were just curiously friendly fish that wanted to swim along. Suddenly my breathing became normal and I was …. swimming. Occasionally I would open my eyes to make sure I was going semi-straight. I couldn’t help by see everyone still around me, but for some reason, none of the ‘friendly fish’ in wet-suits bothered me anymore. My breathing was restored, that silly thought of quitting was gone, my swimming technique was back and I just overcame a panic in the water. How freaking cool is that? I panicked, then overcame it, on my own, in the water, with people climbing all over me! Big smile, then and now.

I got out of the water an astonishing 2 minutes faster than last year! Weird. I must have had a really rough time this year because last year I was conscious of how bad I was doing.

There are some things that happen to you in life that you will never forget and in this race that is just one of them.

The obsession takes root

admin-tom — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 15:41:06 +0000

I got my new sneaks (neon blue Newton running shoes with red laces (apparently crazy colors are all the rage this year)), my bike is semi-tuned, and my internal clock wakes me at 5 am every day. I’m excited about two-a-day workouts (even if the second one is just a short jog around the block), and checking out every YouTube video that has to do with Ironman Arizona 2011, 2012, Ironman Lake Placid 2012 (to see if I could spot myself on the sidelines somewhere (haven’t found Waldo yet either)), and Ironman World Championships Kona (though if these videos were records I would have worn out the grooves by now (thank goodness for new technology)) is my daily morning ritual. As if that weren’t enough, my food limitations (reservations (er, desires)) have started to be defined and my water intake tops over a gallon a day. Less than a month from now, all this will become even more intense….

It’s all the same

admin-tom — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 20:40:48 +0000

I channeled coach Dale and pictured Ollie on Jimmy Chitwood’s shoulders as he measured the dimensions of the ‘court’. To my pleasant surprise, the ‘court’ in Lake Placid New York is exactly the same size as the one in Arizona (and even in my back yard).

I was a bit nervous driving to New York this past weekend (with no place to stay but in my truck) and volunteering for the Ironman Lake Placid 2012. The drive, nor the lack of a comfy sleep space didn’t bother me at all. The thing that made me nervous was thinking that I’d be committing myself to race in the event next year. Ok, that really wasn’t it either. It was the unknown of what Ironman Lake Placid was. I’ve heard of the place, Id even seen it on Google Earth, but I still couldn’t picture it. I had to see it. For some reason I felt like the distance at the Lake Placid event would be longer or seem harder than the one in Arizona.

After the confirming nod from Ollie that the distances were in fact the same (even though it is in a different time zone than AZ), I started to get excited and began to have fun.

When you have energy

admin-tom — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 20:06:07 +0000

you can do just about anything.

today is EVERYTHING

admin-tom — Tue, 22 May 2012 14:38:32 +0000

until its over….. It may still be something tomorrow, but it certainly isn’t as important. Then, a few years from now, it’s pretty much a memory (maybe). I actually hit for the cycle in one baseball game. That was a single, double, triple and homerun during a single game. There may be one or two other people who would even remember that besides me. Of the at least 17 other people there, no importance or weight was given to it since that day. And if I didn’t bring it up right now, the one or two other people that I think would remember it, probably wouldn’t (if there really are one or two other people). It’s more than “what have you done for me lately”, but “what have you done for you lately”.

I went to the gym this morning and used the leg presses (I like the feeling of tight leg muscles…. you know, blasting your quads). As I pushed more weight than I did last week, my mind started thinking about this moment in time. What a different mindset than I normally have (despite popular belief). As I watched my lower quads tighten, I was glad that I had a chance to move like that today. I didn’t think about tomorrow, next week or 6 months from now, my only thought was right now. Right stinkin now. Having fun in the moment.

My ‘exciting’ stories about training for and becoming an Ironman will become just another story about one thing I did once…. like hitting for the cycle. But for today at least, and at least for me, it’s pretty exciting.

Invincible…. until you are not

admin-tom — Tue, 22 May 2012 14:08:59 +0000

Her hands and voice were shaking uncontrollably because she felt helpless. She knows that it’s going to just get tougher. The strength that he used to have has been rapidly decreasing, and will not return. It’s been 6 months since the diagnosis and the picture is bleak, dark… horrible. “Don’t get old” he told me as we made our way into the living room. The corner of the comfy couch was our destination. As he plopped into that corner, there were many short gasping breathes before it became semi-normal again. It’s certainly not like it used to be… even three short months ago. I found the remote, turned on TV, and asked if he wanted or needed anything else at the moment. There was really nothing else I could do. He apologized once more, but my only response was ‘we all fall down once in a while, no big deal’.

I hadn’t been running frequently because I hurt my ankle last week. I figured if I ran on it, I’d hurt it some more and that would prevent me from running better in the near future. That’s good thinking, right? But what if the way I run today is the best I will ever run from this point on? I hope that’s not the case, but who knows. When that day eventually comes, will I know that was my last best day?

You can learn a lot

admin-tom — Wed, 16 May 2012 15:14:36 +0000

You just rode a bike 18 miles! Eighteen miles. That’s pretty far.

He looked exactly like I did as he walked out of the driveway and ‘attempted’ to balance on the bike for the first time. I suggested he go up the street to get comfortable balancing. Thank goodness no cars were coming in either direction. I rode next to him and could see his hands with a strangle grip on the bars, and the front tire was weaving because of it. We, thankfully, made it to the top of the hill (the first mental obstacle) without hitting anything or falling. Next it was time to learn how to use the brakes because the next 1/2 mile is downhill. We practiced stopping completely and stepping off the bike (a very important… step). The reminder of standing on the pedals, moving hips forward off the seat and then stepping off after stopping was repeated quite a bit.

We crossed Elm St and headed toward the curb cut for the path. Oh boy, I thought, this may be tough. I went first then looked back and saw his bike take a very smooth turn behind me. I was impressed. Since it was a very nice day, there were a lot of people on the path. I suggested he ride in front of me because I felt more comfortable about being able to avert trouble if any arose, plus I could ‘teach’ him about the gears (how and when to change them).

“We’re only going to the office and back, right?’ The fear of going further, without even knowing what 10 miles felt like, seemed semi-paralyzing. “When we get to the office, we’ll decide”. I remember being concerned that first day too. I wish someone would have told me not to worry about miles the first time I went, because thinking about distance when I’ve never gone that far before seemed really really far. Ten miles can be done in less than an hour at a leisurely pace, anyone can ride a bike for an hour, right? That thought just changed the equation. If we commit to a time and not a distance, you’ll be surprised how easy the distance will add up in no time. I don’t know if that lesson was translated properly or even accepted if it was.

When we stopped at the office for a drink break, I told him about the canopy of trees over the path in Valley Forge. I told him it’s about 2 miles away (he just did 5) and 2 seemed easy. Since 2 was a much smaller number than 10 (minutes), I went with 2 as a comparison for the ease of getting there. So what if I contradicted myself. The goal was to think differently than ever before. We’re only riding bikes, but it was an obstacle and sometimes you need encouragement and a different thought process to overcome obstacles. So, we continued on to search for the tree canopy.

Right at that moment, there was no fear, no fight, no worries about not making it. We passed people and people passed us. “Pretend you are playing the piano as a reminder to yourself not to strangle the handle bars”. The goal was not to go fast, it was to reach the canopy…. and there it was! “Another 1/2 mile and we hit Valley Forge, wanna see it?” A surprising “yes” was the answer. In what seemed like a minute, there was our turnaround cut out at Valley Forge. You made it! In just over a half hour of riding at a leisurely pace. That will be like a warm up for you in 2 months.

Heading home is always like riding downhill regardless of the terrain. The anticipation of reaching home along a familiar path (because you just saw it) away from the unknown makes the time go much faster. Before we knew it, we were at the office again. This time, we just stopped on the path, took a drink and kept going. That was important, we didn’t ‘need’ to stop and rest we just ‘needed’ to make it home. In less than 20 minutes we’ll hit the bottom of the hill in Conshy (then we’ll figure out how to get up that hill). We hit 23 mph on that path without me ‘pulling’ him. We caught faster riders and got more comfortable with speed. We said ‘on your left’ and had fun passing other riders.

“After the bridge, we have a sharp left, then a sharp right, make sure you signal in case there is someone behind you.” Once we got to Maple Street, I had him follow me. We had to find the easiest hill to climb. There’s an alleyway between third and forth that I chose. ” You can do this, switch to the big gear in the back and stand up on the pedals if it gets too hard.” He stayed with me and we made it. That was a hard way to finish. We crossed Fayette St and coasted home. One last reminder about how to stop and dismount and our ‘lesson’ was over.

Later that day, I thought about all the things I learned by telling someone else what I knew. Steve went a total of 18 miles on his first bike ride in years. Now he knows he can go ‘that far’.

that’s the best part

admin-tom — Thu, 10 May 2012 21:09:37 +0000

Last night I ran for 4 miles. I don’t think I ever run fast, but last night I tried to run slowly (you know, jog).

Knee brace: check.

Ankle brace: check.

Walkman set to Awesome Mix 7: check

Wrists and forehead sweatbands: check

Knee high socks: check

My favorite ”yea, I jog” t-shirt: check

While jogging (which I love to do, especially on cold days when I can wear my jogging suit) I tried to concentrate on landing solidly directly below my body. Though my concentration only lasts for a few steps at a time until I’m distracted by 1000 other thoughts going through my head (like “I bet I could wear my velour jogging suit to go jogging, take off my forehead sweatband after, then go to a fancy restaurant for dinner without changing, it’s that nice).

The neat thing is when I concentrated on landing properly, I actually did land properly and felt lighter. I guess I have to practice running that way so eventually I don’t have to practice.

The best part of the night, besides being able to jog, was that I had and still have no pain. Now off to the fancy restaurant.

We’ll see

admin-tom — Thu, 03 May 2012 14:38:22 +0000

It’s been a week since my mistake of running without braces. The swelling is down and I have no more constant pain. Now, one more day and I’ll attempt to run again (with braces this time). We’ll see.

With 6 months of training left, I really need to get on the road. My biggest obstacle last year was having enough in my tank for the marathon. I didn’t train enough for the run (that was obvious to me). As it turned out, it was my least favorite of the three during training. Learning to swim and going fast on a bike trumped the feeling of running for me (plus it was the hardest). This year, I want to regain that feeling I had as a 7 year old kid: running for fun, because it was fun. That memory has me wanting to run right now. That thought will hopefully continue for the blink of the next six months, but….we’ll see.

I already signed up as a volunteer at the Lake Placid event in July. That means the following morning I’ll be in line at 6:30 am to sign up for Lake Placid Ironman 2013. That means next year, I’ll do two Ironman events in one year…. we’ll see.

Ouch

admin-tom — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 14:57:10 +0000

I spent Saturday and Sunday on the couch, which was a little upsetting because of how nice it was this weekend. In my attempt to start my running training, I ran last Wednesday. I wasn’t going to go very far, or very fast (even if there were ghost runners out there) so I decided not to wear either my ankle and knee braces. Big mistake….. I felt fine Wednesday night and most of Thursday, but by Friday a spot about two inches above my left ankle was really tender.

Fawn says it’s where my tendon attaches to my bone….. That’s cool, I never had that issue before.

Here it is Monday morning, I’m glad I’m wearing long pants. I have my knee brace, ankle brace and an ace bandage on, presumably a few days late.