In the last two weeks, I’ve been in touch with a lot of friends and family members, all offering their congratulations on my race. Life has been different after coming back from Ironman. I am still inwardly glowing about my accomplishment, which I hope will continue to be the case for a while. I feel it’s the first time in a long time where I actually feel as proud as those congratulating me seem to expect.

Recovery
There is a concept of “post Ironman depression” which comes from all of a sudden not having that goal to look forward to.  In addition, there is the loss of physiological benefits of all that exercise because I had to take some days off after the race for recovery.  After acclimating to 3-6 hours of exercise per day, taking off days following the race was tough. I was sore for about 3 days, and after that I was just going crazy. I ended up taking off Monday-Friday, then doing a 10-miler Saturday and realizing Sunday morning it was a bad idea. Sunday was a rest day, and but I’ve been back on the road for at least an hour of biking or running since.

I’ve definitely felt the addictive pull of running before, but never like this. I wake up and feel absolutely compelled to get outside. It’s nice in a way, because I really enjoy the workout, but I don’t feel completely in control, which is not ideal. It’s been over two weeks now, and I think the mental post-race downswing has mostly passed.

What comes next?
Everyone has been asking me what comes next. In truth, I have made a decision to step away from triathlons and marathons for a while to concentrate on my career. I do have a desire to do this again, but not for a while. Training takes up an extraordinary amount of time, and I have other goals to pursue. Eventually, I have my sites set on an Ultramarathon, specifically, the Western States Endurance Run (100 miles through the Cascades), and now that I see what I’m capable of in triathlons, I’d like to try to make it to World Champs in Kona, Hawaii, which would require a sub 10-hour finish. With a better bike, and many more miles in the saddle, I think I am capable of this. This is all in the distant future, and nothing I’m really planning for right now.

Dear friends and family,
As most of you know, last October I went a bit out of my mind and signed up for the first Ironman Louisville, which will take place this coming Sunday, August 26th. It’s the first time Ironman has come to my hometown of Louisville, and I’m very happy to be a part of it. This event is special for me because it’s the first time I’ll be challenged just to reach the finish line. I’ve entered endurance events before (marathons and recently a half-ironman), but I find this one particularly hard to grasp, which is both exciting and scary.

Over the last 10 months, training for this event has dominated the majority of my mental and physical effort, and now that the date is finally here I’m a combination of nervous, scared and excited. I pleased with the work I’ve done to reach the starting line, and happy that I’ve already accomplished my first goal in doing this, which was to arrive at the starting line healthy and prepared.

A quick synopsis of the race, for those unfamiliar. The Ironman triathlon is a pure endurance event consisting of 2.4 miles (3.9km) swimming, 112 miles (180km) biking, and 26.2 miles (42.2km) running (a marathon). As in all triathlons, the event is continuous, with transition stations oriented in between the legs of the event to allow athletes to change gear. The race is often the most grueling event in the life of an endurance athlete, and takes the full day to complete (between 10-17 hours).

On Sunday, the event will start at 7am EST, and while time goals are secondary, I would be ecstatic to finish before sunset at 8:20pm. I’ll be wearing bib # 537 and the orange race suit in the picture here (from my half-ironman race at Lake Stevens). If you happen to be in Louisville, I’d be delighted to see you along the course. It should be a spectacle to watch. Let me know ahead of time if you’ll be along the course, and I’ll look out for you.

For those who would like to track me online, there will be live athlete tracking on the Ironman website. This page: http://www.ironman.com/ironmanlive/racedaycoverage should have a link for Ironman Louisville, and you can enter my bib number (#537) and see how I’m progressing throughout the day. I’ve also written about my training on my blog, which I’ll be updating before and after the race. www.blog.craigdossantos.com

Thanks so much for all the support.

Craig

I arrived home in Louisville yesterday. I have one week until my Ironman competition. There are so many thoughts going through my mind. I’ve been training for this for 9 months, and it has pretty much taken over my life since February. I’ve faced a few setbacks, including a torn hamstring in April, and a 10-day bacterial infection earlier this month from swimming in a contaminated lake. (I’ll let you guess at what it was contaminated with…)

But right now, I’m about 16 days into my taper, and I’m feeling really ready. I’m constantly switching between feeling lethargic and being full of nervous energy. For the first time in a while, I’m holding back on my normal eat-as-much-as-possible diet, so that I don’t gain weight now that my workouts are knocked down to an hour or so per day.

My mind is constantly racing over the details of the race, trying to anticipate what it will feel like at different stages. In truth, I don’t think I can come close to imagining what it will feel like in reality. I’m a bit nervous, because today is the 21st straight 90 degree day in Louisville, so it’s going to be a hot day on Sunday.

My main training book, Going Long: Training for Ironman-Distance Triathlons by Joe Friel says this about race day:

“Odds are that sometime during the day you are going to feel really, really bad. This feeling is normal, and things will get better if you persevere to the end. Finish at all costs, and you will thank yourself later.”

I have to admit that after typing that, it seems kind of nuts…

I can’t wait.

I discovered something today. After all this endurance training, especially in sports that are somewhat new to me, my pain threshold has changed. Not really increased, but I’ve noticed that I view pain differently. I look at it more as a signal rather than an alarm. If something hurts, it seems like a signal to acknowledge, than move on. I’m not yet sure if this is a good thing or a bad one, but I’m guessing it will help a bit on race day.

I recently moved, and I now live in a house on a very steep hill. So steep that I’ve bit the dust multiple times just trying to get on my bike. Today, I took the day off, but in the end decided to go for a short ride with my roommate. He was having some trouble on the hill as well, so after riding down, I turned around and started back up it to see how he was.

I then discovered that I had no option to turn around again,(really, it’s VERY steep), and I couldn’t get out of the clips to stand up while still on the hill, so I had to just keep climbing up. Eventually I tried to bail out into a semi flat driveway, but ended up slipping, falling, and gouging leg with the bike gears, which I’ve learned are quite sharp. Not only did I have to clean my leg of all the bike gear gunk, but then I had to clean my bike gears, as they were covered with ‘leg gunk’. Yuck.  Maybe this is why bikers shave their legs.
My roommate tried to help with some sort of extremely painful “stop the bleeding” spray. Here are my lovely before and after shots.

This past weekend, I participated in my 2nd triathlon ever (or 3rd, if you count the dinky IronKids tri that I did in 8th grade), and my first at the half-ironman distance (1.2mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run)
The race was held at Lake Stevens, and upon reaching there on Saturday to get my race number and check in my bike, I was surprised by a few things.

1. There were a lot of rules (mostly about not drafting on the bike leg), and there were ‘time penalties’ where you have ti sit in a tent. In reality, all the rules didn’t come into play, but I’m used to running races where all you need to do is stay on the course.
2. The ‘pre-race expo’ was pathetic. There were 4 booths, and a place to get your t-shirt. I forgot that expo’s are primarily for marketing, and so a race in north Washington with only 1,400 won’t draw too many companies. I usually look forward to the expo’s at the big marathons (Chicago, Boston and even Seattle) and spend multiple hours gathering freebies and debating sporting good purchases.
3. The bikes! Despite dolling out a good portion of my bank roll on my Trek 5000, with good pedals, shoes, carbon fiber aerobars, special aero-bar water bottles, etc. I felt like I brought a tricycle to a grownups bike race. When I checked in my bike to transition, my eyes were bugging out at the equipment surrounding me. The majority of bikes had race rims (serious money for those), and were in general much lighter and worth about $2-5K more than mine. Forget about being tough sport, triathlons are a rich sport.

I woke up the next day at 4am, drove up to Lake Stevens (about 45 min), and checked over my gear, food and swimming/running equipment. I really missed the simplicity of a running race. I was in the first wave behind the elites, and I was surprised at how easy the swim was. I finished way faster (34:01) than I had anticipated, probably because of the wetsuit, which adds to your buoyancy. I moved steadily through transition, but in retrospect, it was a bit slow.

The bike leg was really tough for me. My legs were somehow dead and hurting from the swim, and it took a long time to hit a groove. My back was aching by the end, and the hills were endless. I actually topped my all-time high for speed, hitting 47.3 mph on one of the downhills. You can imagine the uphills. Many people passed me, and I really didn’t battle it out, or try to hang with anyone.

The running leg felt great. I was surprised not to have dead legs starting out, and I started pulling people in immediately. I ended up averaging 6:54’s with a sub 6 last mile. I was motivated by counting the people I passed and eventually got bored after about 140. I finished with a 1:30:30, for a total time of 5:10:35.

Overall, I felt my performance was respectable considering my newness, and my (comparably) low-end bike. I have a lot of respect for my full Ironman now. It will be a feat just to finish.

**Special thanks to Chaitanya Sareen and Trevin Chow, who woke up early, bared the hot sun, and lost their car, all to watch me race. Races like this are only worth it if you have people waiting for you at the end. Their presence made my day.

Yesterday I went out with the Cascadia Bike Club in Seattle. Specifically, the ride was part of HPC, the High Performance Cycling group, which is for more experienced and faster cyclists. This is not a category that should include me, as I’ve only been on less than a dozen rides with a group, and have only been biking since February. But lately, I’ve been pushing myself physically quite a bit, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

The group ride leader took one look at me with my middle-range bike, unpadded shorts, and running clothes and proceeded to warn the entire group about the length and difficulty of the ride. I was so proud to gain their respect by staying with them the whole way and not being at the back of the pack. It definitely was a day of firsts for me:

• First ride with Cascadia Bike Club.
• Longest distance ride I’ve done (66 miles)
• Longest time I’ve spent in the saddle (5.5 hours)
• First really hilly ride (6000 ft in elevation gains)
• First time in a real pace line
• First time getting (and fixing!) a flat
• Fastest speed I’ve clocked on a bike (46.0 mph)
• Slowest speed I’ve clocked on a bike (while trying) (5.3 mph, going up Squaw Mountain)

I went on a 50 mile bike ride today. It was with the Louisville Bicycling Club, which means we met at a local park, then headed off into the beautiful Kentucky country land, east of Louisville. The group included two 73-year-olds.

Let me say that again. TWO!! Nearly 3 times my age! And they regularly go on 50, and even 100 mile bike rides. Wow. If I could make a wish, it would be to be able to be as active as they are at that age.
That also got me thinking that simplicity and consistency are likely the keys to good health. There’s no need to be complicated with fancy fad diets that cut out all of (insert food group here). Or complicated workout plans that target “your lower abs”, etc. I doubt these concepts existed 50 years ago when they were my age. But these two individuals have been active for their entire lives. That, with a dose of good luck, produces really remarkable results.

I signed up for an Ironman Triathlon. My parents don’t understand why I signed up for it. While at first I could understand their concern, lately I realized that it was more than that. They really just don’t understand why I want to do it.

I’ve been running marathons for a few years now, and have done fairly well, although I haven’t finished one that hasn’t absolutely kicked my butt. However, I don’t find marathons a real challenge anymore. Not because they are not a worthy challenge for me, but because all the work that is needed in order to complete one, I did when I was in college. Sure, I have to put in a few miles leading to the race, but there’s no nervousness in wondering whether I can finish. Sure, I could concentrate on dropping my time, but there is something about just trying to get to the finish line that is appealing. It’s a bit more primal than trying to see who can get there first.

But marathons are child’s play in comparison to an Ironman. The Ironman is different animal. It starts with a 2.4 miles swim, then 112 miles bike, and then a marathon (26.2 miles) running. I’m getting back into swimming shape, I’m getting into biking shape for the first time, and for the first time in a while, I think I’m going to be really challenged mentally.

To understand an endurance athlete, I suppose you must understand that it’s not really about the sport or time. It’s about pushing the limits to fulfill an insatiable curiosity: the one that wonders what I’m really made of.