Most rewarding experience ever
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Dog Training on August 28, 2011
It’s been a long time since I posted. Probably since the Ironman. I haven’t been doing much training lately, well at least of the workout nature. I was going to do the LB marathon, and then I just didn’t feel like it. It’s a slight struggle with motivation, but to be honest, it’s more of a struggle with opportunity cost. I could run for 3 hours on Saturday morning…OR…I could take a long walk with my fiance and dogs to breakfast. With the Ironman behind me, that choice is becoming increasingly easy (but there’s still an internal struggle).
The training I’ve been doing lately is with my puppy Ezio, and that’s what I’m taking the time to post about today. A different sort of training…
For those who follow me on facebook know that about three months ago, I was ready to give up on this guy. He had bit me for the umpteenth time, and I had it. But had it really meant that Ezio would die. And I’m not exaggerating there. He was at a stage where if you went to pet him, he would bite you, and dogs are not easy to take in at that stage. I would of had to give him to the shelter, and without considering nurturing, he would of been put down. And if any family took him, it wouldn’t of been pretty.
But he was like that because of us. We didn’t protect him from our older dog when we brought him home, and he was attacked. Several times. Viciously. One time he even had a bloody eye. He was scared. On top of that, I would dominance train him, similar to what I successfully did with Kaila. If he acted out, I would throw him on his back and get in his face. Even growl if I had to. Well…I’ve since learned that can work, but only in few cases, and definitely not with a dog who has fear. I screwed up and my anger with him had built up that I was done getting bit.
And for those owners out there – your dog is the way he/she is because of you. It’s critical to know that. The cues they pick up on with you are very different then humans, so you could be teaching them things you don’t intend. I highly recommend this book to learn more about this.
So after a day where I was bit by Ezio again, tearing open my hand and causing a fairly deep scratch, I hit my breaking point. I was ready to give him up – that night in fact. If it wasn’t for Adrienne, Ezio would most likely be dead now. But she didn’t want to give up. She took over Ezio responsibilities for a week (feeding, exercising, etc…), and I calmed down. She kept bringing up an example of when I went for a run and she walked Ezio. When I ran by, Ezio pulled so hard on the leash to get up to me that he nearly yanked Adrienne out of her shoes. When they couldn’t keep up, he cried. Constantly. Until he was home and could see me.
That kept pulling at my heart and I kept that in the back of my mind that this dog who sits here and bites me is just doing so because he doesn’t know better. He can be trained. We bought books…lots of them. We read a ton. The more we learned, the more we were able to understand Ezio from his perspective, not ours. In doing that, we backed off when he had anxiety and was fearful. We started to reward him when he was good and ignore when he was bad. With these subtle changes, he got better. Not great, but better. He still bit and he still aggressively attacked every dog that walked by. But we knew there was hope. As amateur dog owners, there’s only so much we can do on our own, and when a dog bites, you need professional help.
Adrienne began researching for trainers. We used one, interviewed others, but everyone we talked to was weak. They wanted to come in, teach a few things, leave, and hope he got better. Well hope isn’t an option. He had to get better, and we wanted a trainer who would teach us to reward him at the right times, but also teach us when it was acceptable to punish him, and more importantly, how to do that. People trash leash corrections and expect positive reinforcement to be the only way to train a dog. Well yes, that can work, but when a dog begins to draw blood frequently, treats only go so far.
That’s when we discovered Noble Pet Services. They gave us a free consultation (which NO ONE else does, and I just don’t get it…everyone wants to charge you $100 to observe your pet. Total BS). We could tell immediately that they had experience with fearful dogs and would find the right balance between positive and negative feedback. They fit our price range, and more importantly, they didn’t charge us when we emailed them with questions. Christine (Noble pet) is very responsive and she seems to genuinely care about our dog’s improvement. That means a lot.
We started training and learned a LOT. But we’ve also put in a ton of time. I would say at least 1-2 hours a day. We learned that Kaila caused a lot of anxiety for Ezio, and we had to make sure Ezio was ok with us and knew we would defend him. We started walking them separately at all times. We kept them separate in the home as much as we could. And we’d do everything we could to keep their focus on us, not each other. Some other things we’ve done are:
- Ezio and Kaila now must be attached to our hip with a leash at all times. This way they get used to following us around
- Heeling!! Wow – Noble has awesome tips on teaching a dog to heel on walks, so no more dog pulling within a few hours. Just amazing. Neither dog is allowed to walk in front of our front foot unless we let them.
- Ezio eats out of our hand…every meal. He’s learning to not bite the hand that feeds him
And so many other things…too much to share. But seeing Ezio change has been one of the most amazing and rewarding experience I’ve ever had in life. It feels like bringing a dog back from the dead. Today, I can roll Ezio over, pet his belly, kiss his head, grab his feet. This is for a dog who three months ago would bite down hard on my arm if I touched him, anywhere.
Ezio still has a ways to go. But there’s a special bond there when you can look at your dog and you know that your hard work and investment have brought him back to life and revealed the true spirit behind that fear.I’ll be honest that until this point, I never really understood the point of having kids, nor did I really know what it would be like to be a father. Having this experience with Ezio has changed my perspective there. If it’s this rewarding to train and teach a dog, I can’t even imagine what that’s like with a child.
I wanted to share what’s been keeping me busy for the last few months (aside from a new home, getting married, another work promotion, and just generally more responsibility everywhere in life 
If you have any questions or feedback, please share in the comments.
Here are some pics with Ezio. He’s 26 lbs now, 8 lbs bigger then his two year old sister (he’s 8 months). But she still is in charge, which we’re working on.
Next Thing: Kaila’s Xmas Countdown
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Dog Running, Dog Training on November 30, 2010
My next thing is going to be Kaila’s 21 days of Xmas. What does this mean? One of my goals in getting Kaila was to get a running dog. They say wait until the dog is 1 year old, and since Kaila is now nearly 15 months old, I’m going to finally commit to training her to be my running companion.
So December is the month that I do this. Starting this Saturday, December 4th, Kaila will run 42 miles in 21 days. Why 21 days??? Because I’ll be in town for 21 days to be with Kaila to get her to run. I won’t start running until December 4th (my calf is still screwed up from the Ironman, but today was my first pain free day since the race), and Ill be in Germany from December 11th to December 17th. Counting the rest of the days in the month equals 21 days.
I think that is enough time to develop a short training plan to 1) train her to run and 2) develop her stamina to be able to handle some longer runs next year.
Based on my experience running with Kaila, this is going to be a long, painful and slow process. She does not like to run continuously, and that will be the biggest challenge since it’s tough to run if you’re constantly stopping. But I have some ideas, and I’ll be blogging about it. I know she can handle the running too since I’ve been able to get her to run 3-4 miles if she is chasing Adrienne on the bike. So I have hope!!!
Training plan will be developed and posted this week, and hopefully I’ll have a running companion at the end of this month. Wish me luck! I think this may be harder than an Ironman!
If you know of any resources on training your dog to run, please send them my way. If not, this will hopefully be a good guide as I document my experience!
What’s Next: Ironman and Identity
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Ironman Training, Life, Training Ruminations on November 26, 2010
Five days later, my body is finally recovering. I’ve been extremely tired. Sleeping about 8-10 hours a night but only feeling awake for about 4-5 hours before being overwhelmed with “tired”, I’m starting to wonder if a week of rest, relaxation and excessive eating is enough to get over the ironman. My right leg, which has been so stiff and MESSED UP is finally starting to feel like a normal leg again. I can finally go down stairs without pain, and I’m almost ok to run to get a tennis ball for my dog. Almost…
I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last few days. They say that after the first ironman, you tend to go into a post-mortem like depression. You’ve worked out nearly everyday for six months while everything builds into a one day climax. You give it your all, and then you go from 100% to 0% in hours. I can see what they’re talking about, but I’ve also been looking forward to time off for a while, so I haven’t been hit as hard with it. What I have struggled with is, what’s next…
My goal for the past 18 months was to complete an Ironman. It’s funny how one goal can take so much preparation, dedication and diligence. Once it’s over, it’s hard to think, what is next? Most people expect the dedication to continue. But do I? Is that something I want? The Ironman took more sacrifice then I’d be willing to do again. At least for now and so soon after.
But my identity is somewhat wrapped up in an Ironman. Co-workers, friends, family – most people’s first question to me is, how’s training? When’s the Ironman? My life has become Ironman, and now that it’s over and I’m not planning on doing another one anytime soon, what will my identity become?
I know myself. At least I got to know who I really was over the course of the past 18 months, which is what really drove me to do this. Although my identity to others is known as Ironman, I know that Ironman means something very different. It means that I can set goals (see the top of my blog site about “Fully employed triathlete training to beat a three hour marathon and 12 hour ironman while living an everday life” – 1/2 of that mission is accomplished), I can dedicate and sacrifice to achieve goals if need be, I can overcome intense fear (those who really know me understand my fear of open water given my near drowning when I was in sixth grade), and my body can handle things that my mind thinks is impossible. Of course there are many life lessons learned from Ironman training, but I’ll keep those for another post
That’s what Ironman means to me. It’s not just a race and becoming an Ironman. This was about becoming IronAdam, an understanding of who I am, what I’m capable of, and what’s truly important in life. I set out to learn about me and grow, and that was my most successful part of the last year. I know what’s important now. But the question that I’ll continue to struggle with is, how do I balance it?
Despite this understanding, I imagine I’ll struggle with my identity for the next few months, trying to discover what is indeed next in life and also trying to motivate in all those things that I cared a little less about because of my intense focus on the Ironman. I know I want to beat 3 hours in a marathon, but how does that fit with my life goals (family, kids, vacations, dog training) and my career goals (management, travel, savings programs, growth)? When I go back to work on Monday, and I obviously tell lots of stories of the day, and on Tuesday, it’s like it never happened, how will I feel? I honestly don’t know.
I’m confused about priorities now, and the one thing I’ll miss about Ironman is that it forced me to appreciate nearly everything in the moment. It made me appreciate my time so much, my ability to manage that time, and as a result, appreciate the minimal time I was able to spend with those close to me (which as you can expect, minimizing quantity leads to increased quality). It also made me schedule life around everyday training, so the one thing I could take as a given every week was my 5AM alarm clock during the week and my 7 hours on the bike each weekend. Now what’s my given?
Day by day, I’ll continue this figure this out. In the meantime, I need to continue to smell the roses, one thing I’m not very good at
Race Report: 2010 Ironman Arizona
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Race Reports on November 23, 2010
It’s pretty crazy to sit here at my computer less than 48 hours after the Ironman, trying to come up with the words to describe my race. The day was a blur, but I could recall the slightest detail of any of the 11 hours, 38 minutes and 29 seconds that I was on the course. It was an AMAZING experience, and I hope I capture that feeling in this race report. I am very detailed here, so feel free to skip as necessary. I’m hoping that a lot of first time ironmen and ironwomen can learn from this post.
Pre-Swim
I amazingly fell asleep at 830PM the night before and slept until about 3:20. Crazy, right? I figured I’d be up all night. So first goal, get a good night’s rest (which I was figuring to be about 7 hours), achieved. I woke up at 3:20, took an ensure, and tried to sleep for one more hour but just toss and turned. Was up at 4:15, immediately had my granola/yogurt, and went through my series of routine bathroom trips. I was nervous, but I felt good at this point.
I stretched, took the dog for a walk and saw my mom in the hallway, so she walked with me. We walked along the lake and I saw the turn around buoy in the water – about 1 mile from the start. It hit me then that I was going to be in the “laundry machine”, also known as the
Ironman Arizona Tempe Lake swim start, in less than two hours. I started to get nervous. I even get nervous writing about it now two days later.
Went back inside, got Adrienne up, started to stretch, and then just tried to think of calming thoughts. About 5:45, we went and met my friend John in the lobby and headed out to the car. So you know, all bags/bikes were checked in the night before except special needs, so there wasn’t a lot to worry about in the morning.
The streets were closed, so we had to walk over mill bridge to get to the transition zone. The scene was amazing. THOUSANDS of people in the darkness with giant bright lights shining on them. It felt out of a movie. We were 40 minutes from start, and I was starting to get nervous. John, who is a vendor I work with at HID, asked me about Cognos, which is a tool we’re thinking of purchasing. In my mind I laughed because it felt REALLY nice to think of something other than the race.
I dropped off special needs bag, entered transition, filled speedfil with water, put water bottles on bike, put on my wetsuit, in line at porta potty, bathroom, met John, helped each other get into the wetsuits, then off to the water. 10 minutes till go time.
Swim (Goal: 1:10:00, Actual: 1:12:04)
We jumped in the water. I remember the quote from the people with the microphones: “If you get to the front and don’t jump in, you will be pushed”. Yup, that’s how on time these Ironmen folks are. I hit the water, and it was COLD. 61 degrees cold. It was this cold on the practice swim the day before, but that was at 930AM with the sun out. This was 650AM with no sun and you could really feel the difference.
My warmup consisted of swimming to the start line, and in hindsight, I should of put my head in the water and swam more to get used to the cold because once the gun went off, I was not ready.
I found a spot towards the front center that felt somewhat empty. I was feeling good, yelling and getting pumped up. The gun went off, and BAM, i was smothered. Each time I tried to put my head in the water, the cold and darkness made me lookup (the water is brown and you can’t see people around or in front of you nor can you see bubbles, which is usually the thing I use most to sight my directions). That’s a big no no when 3000 people are trying to move forward. I got trampled. Over and over to the point where I could not breathe. When I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t get my head in the water.
I panicked. I mean seriously panicked. I couldn’t breathe and I just kept getting dunked. I looked to the sides to see if I could swim in. Yes, I was going to quit. The thought went through me that this would be the fastest exit to an ironman in the history of the sport. That thought made things worse. I was at the point after 1-2 minutes of this that I wondered what I was going to do because I could not “escape” the constant punishment of arms and feet, and I could not breathe slow enough to get my head in the water to start swimming.
Then, amazingly, a woman passing me noticed I was in trouble, stopped, turned to me, and said, “Get on your back, it will help”. Then she was gone. I swear, it was like an angel had saved me. I went on my back, started kicking, and after about 200M of this, I was calm enough to flip over and start my swim. The pic below shows the course, and you can see how long it took me to start my watch (we started just beyond the yellow bridge before the red line – that’s a long way to go on your back).
I was most anxious about this swim start, and I guess for good reason. It was horrible and one of the worst experiences of my life. At times I felt like I was drowning. It was seriously so bad I thought of ending my race. I think this was just bad strategy. Given my inexperience, I should of never started that far forward and I should of taken the time to warm up. I think I’m top 1/3 in the field in swimming, but that doesn’t make up for lack of experience starting in a small space with 3000 other swimmers.
After the panic, I found a groove and swam hard. I ran into a number of people, but I felt confident enough now to swim aggressively and create space for myself. Things got crowded around each buoy turn, but I felt confident enough to not panic. The swim felt long and since I had trouble breathing out of both sides because of the choppiness, I definitely had a sore left shoulder exiting the water. Nevertheless, I was happy to hit the finish very close to my goal despite the horrific start. 1st leg, accomplished.
T1 (Goal: <00:10:00, Actual: 00:07:56)
Wetsuit strippers are off. One person undoes velcro, another person rips off top half, they help me sit on the ground, then bam, it’s off. Next thing I know, I’m running through transition. Grab my bike gear bag. Put on tri top (with the help of a volunteer), put on shoes, helmet, race belt, sunglasses, and I’m off. No socks since I planned on peeing while riding (don’t wear socks – that would take a gross thing and make it even worse). I got through transition pretty quickly, and I never felt the need to stop and rest.
Bike (Goal: <06:00:00, Actual: 06:21:55)
Now I missed my goal a lot here, but I guess in the scope of MPH, I missed it by about .8-.9 mph. That’s not horrible given the conditions, but if there is one area of serious improvement, then this would be it. The bike was a pretty boring loop of about 8 miles within tempe and about 10 miles on the beeline hwy. Then you take the same route back. This is a steady 1-2% grade up the beeline and then 1-2% on the return. So you do the same thing 6x, or 3x round trip. It can be boring, particularly in the second loop where you wonder when it’s going to end.
The conditions were tough. 15-20 mph winds with big gusts every once in a while. It rained for a total time of about 20-30 minutes, but when it rained, it hurt because of the strong winds slapping the rain into you. But the hardest part of the bike was trying to maintain an easy bike into strong headwinds. My heart rate monitor kept spiking, so it was difficult for me to gauge effort. Yes, a power meter would of been really helpful.
You can see my 10 mile splits below. It’s fairly obvious when it’s downwind and into the wind, but I did not lap it on the loops, which would of made sense.
My strategy was to go easy off the bike so I could run a marathon, and I accomplished this. I stuck to a very strict nutrition plan, drinking infinit for first 2 hours, then two power bar gels for next hour, then infinit from special needs (my stored water bottles) for next two hours, with one gel before I hit the run. I nailed my nutrition, but may have over drank (see below).
The hardest part of the bike was staying in the present (my box) because you can’t help but feel your sore legs and think how you’re going to run a full marathon after this. It’s one of those things you can’t train/prep for because you’re never going to run a marathon after a 112 mile ride…you’d be too torn up to continue training. To keep my mind focused on the present, I broke things down into “Get to beeline hwy, get to turnaround, get to city, get to turnaround”. Those were good 8-9 mile chunks that kept me in the present for most of my ride.
I want to point out that given the mass dunking I incurred on the swim, I swallowed a lot of nasty lake water. I had serious stomach cramps once I got to the bike. I was actually really concerned that something was wrong because I peed about 10x on the bike, which is very unusual to have to pee that much. My concern continued as I made my loops because although you can ride through the stomach pain, it’s very difficult to run with. However, at mile 75, it just went away. I was SO HAPPY and it definitely fueled my last lap knowing I’d get to the run without issues.
For those debating whether to pee on the bike or stop, I recommend going on the bike despite how disgusting it is. I would slow to about 10-14 mph, go, then speed up. Only time I got off my bike was to take off my arm warmers at special needs and get new water bottles. I felt this saved a lot of time given the frequency I had to go.
I averaged consistent speeds through each loop, but I certainly felt like I pushed a lot harder on the last loop, and even though the final 18 miles was into the wind, I couldn’t help but get excited knowing I was about to finish the longest part of the ironman in one piece and with my legs intact. Once I got to the run, I knew I was going to tear it up. I saw my pit crew towards the end of each loop, and when I saw them this final time, I couldn’t help but smile.
T2 (Goal: <00:10:00, Actual: 00:05:41)
My legs felt good, I hopped off the bike, handed it to someone, grabbed my run gear bag (and these volunteers are so amazing – I yell my number and next thing I know the bag is in my hand). Run to tent. Peel off my disgustingly peed in shoes and helmet, put on my socks and running shoes, and I was off.
Run (Goal: <04:00:00, Actual: 03:50:53)
When I started running, I knew I was going to meet my goal. My legs felt good, and I knew my bike execution (to make sure I could run a marathon) was perfect. The run course was an 8.7 mile loop through tempe with a very crowd friendly presence centered around mile 1, 3 and 8. However, outside of that, it was pretty lonely. There were awesome volunteers calling out people’s names (it’s on our bibs) and providing awesome encouragement. That’s needed on such a long day.
I started out a little quick, and as you can see from my splits, I started to slow down after 2-3 miles. I made it a point to never stop running except for aid stations. My mental focus was that I was rewarded with a walk through an aid station if I could run from station to station. This kept me in my box and my focus on the present, not on the 26.2 miles that lie ahead. Although walking through the aid station added about 30 seconds to each mile, it was great sanity for my first ironman. I fortunately only stopped to pee about 4x. I still find it strange that I had to go so often.
I continued to be very religious about my nutrtion. I had a gel with water ever 3-4 miles. At one point, around mile 13, I started to feel like I was going to cramp. I grabbed my salt pills from my bag at transition, but they fell out of my pocket, so I was only getting salt from Gels, which is not enough. So at mile 13 or so, I grabbed some pretzels and perform, and my stomach did not like this. I immediately had a negative reaction and was concerned that I made need a porta potty instantly. After slowing down a bit, it went away, and I continued on.
However, the cramping feel in my right leg was still there, and I was nervous to continue at the same pace. So I dropped to about 9 minute pace, and this was perfect. Except for the occasional shot of pain in my right calf, I was ok. I pushed on.
At mile 20-21, I passed my pit crew for the last time, and I started to feel confident, but in a lot of pain. I was entering the final stretch. There is one decent hill on the run at mile 23. It seemed like everyone was walking it, but I forced myself to continue running, even if slower. As I approached the top of the hill, that was the time I knew I was going to be an Ironman at my goal pace.
I know what you may be thinking – I could of walked and been an Ironman. But there is something about setting a goal that you think is very difficult to achieve, and then meeting it. I put a lot of pressure on myself, and I think it helps me meet my goals (just with a lot of anxiety). Once I was on top of the hill, I teared up. I can still feel that feeling now. It’s surreal. With 3 miles left and the race far from over, there was just something about this final push that got to me. I worked so hard for the last six months and even the last two years without much of a break to reach this point, and I was overtaken with emotion. I was so happy. I pushed forward, taking only water at the aid stations and continued to reward myself by walking each one.
I skipped the last station, and as I made my way to the finish chute, I couldn’t stop smiling. As I made the final turn and I saw the tiny chute lined with people and bright lights, I just ran forward. It was amazing – then I heard my name, “Adam Ainbinder from Irvine, CA”, but I didn’t hear, You are an Ironman. I was ok with that…I fist pumped crossing the finish, and I was done. I was an Ironman.
Overall (Goal: <12:00:00, Actual: 11:38:29)
I felt like hell after. I got a massage in the massage tent, but I could barely walk. I was shivering uncontrollably. I had two slices of pizza, chicken broth, and an Ironman Perform drink. I finally got out of the athlete’s tent, found my parents. Adrienne came up a few minutes later. Although I couldn’t express much at that moment except fear that something was seriously wrong since I could not stop shaking, I was so happy to see her. So happy to see my family and her family as well.
Here are my results…I believe the rankings are cumulative, so the run ranking shows my final position.
Support
My pit crew was amazing. I was so happy to see their faces at various points of the race. They made t-shirts and caps for “Team Adam”, made inspiring posters, and made more noise that made me feel so welcome!!! It pushed me to just get back to them at each point of the race. Thanks Adrienne, Mom, Dad, Marian and Tim for being there for me. I really appreciate it!
I also wanted to thank everyone else out there for your support. Your kind words and encouragement really pushed me through some tough training days, and the messages leading up to the event were incredible. Thank you so much! I will always remember that!
Finisher Chute
Flickr Slideshow
Inspirational Posters
Race Day Tomorrow
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Ironman Training on November 20, 2010
I’m sitting in my hotel room, eagerly awaiting the start of tomorrow’s race. It’s a strange feeling. I’ve worked HARD for this. I mean really hard. Six solid months of training including a good 1.5 years before that of learning to do the marathon run and also learning to do tris and cycling. I looked at my swim stroke from last September before this race (an old video we found cleaning up the camcorder) and almost threw up in my mouth at how bad it was. I’ve come a long way in the last two years…haven’t done a lot of stopping and smelling the roses.
But what’s scary (and anxiety provoking) is that you put everything into this for one day. That day is tomorrow. Of course there could be other ironmans, but as referenced in my earlier posts, I just don’t know about making the sacrifice again because the challenge is not the race but the training leading up to it. So I’ve worked really hard…for tomorrow! It’s here…did I eat right? Did I get enough sleep last night? What if I don’t sleep tonight? What if my contacts feel dry? Did I put the right stuff in my special needs bags? Yeah, those thoughts are swirling…
And I look at the weather forecast – cloudy, rainy, windy. In tempe, where it’s like that 4 days a year Seriously funny how that works out. But you take it as it comes since it should make the day more special. Should being the key word…it could also suck trememdously if there are bike wrecks. But if it slows me down, so be it. I’m there to complete an Ironman, not race or win it.
It’s fun to document a blog post like this because it’s written sporadically, which is exactly what my head is like right now. Over the last three days in tempe, I’ve done 1/2 of the bike loop (so 1/6 of the course), 1/2 the run loop, and today 1/4 of the swim. So that has certainly helped reduce some uncertainty that existed before doing those things. But I also know exactly what I’m getting into, and it’s going to be a long hard day.
The swim is dark. Today in practice, I ran into people I couldn’t see even after running into them. You can only see people with your head out of water. That should make for an interesting 1st 500 meters. On the bike, the wind is going to be big. Today the wind was opposite it’s normal direction, so we’ll see if that holds tomorrow. The key is to calmly bike into the wind, and ride like hell down it. Keep the heart rate in low zone 2, and don’t push much harder.
The run…ahhh, the run. I’ll survive the run if I do the bike correctly. In fact, if I bike correctly, I will kill this run. So I think my bike goal will be the hardest one to meet because at any point that I don’t feel right, I’ll be slowing down. I’d rather lose 10-15 minutes biking then walking the run.
And that’s it…bib 439! Hopefully the next time you hear from me, I’ll be IronAdam…
3 Bullets on Ironman Arizona
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Endurance Nation, Ironman Training on November 17, 2010
I mentioned to everyone several times that I’m part of endurance nation. They put out a 3 bullets talk for each portion of the tri before each tri, and here is Coach Pat’s chat about IM AZ. This gets my stomach turning, but I must admit, I’m looking forward to it.
Definitely watch this if you’re interested in what Ironman Arizona is like or if you’re racing, what to keep in mind for each portion of the race
Race Strategy: Ironman Arizona
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Race Strategy on November 14, 2010
It's GO TIME
Crazy thinking that one week from today, I will be attempting to complete my first Ironman. One year ago, I signed up to “Become Ironadam”. I’ve committed myself to this goal, and I believe have given myself a very good chance of accomplishing this goal.
So now it’s time to write out my race strategy. I’ve learned SO MUCH from Endurance Nation, and I must say that I’m entering this event with confidence rather than fear. They don’t advertise that benefit, but I think they should because if I came up with my own training plan and didn’t get the questions answered that I always have (e.g. Peeing on the bike, ideal place to start on the swim, how to execute the bike, etc…), I would have significantly more anxiety then I have right now. Instead, I am REALLY looking forward to Sunday’s race, and I’m confident I can meet my goals.
Now to my race strategy
Pre-Race
On Saturday, I plan to do my practice swim at 9AM, attend Team EN’s four keys talk at 10AM, check in my bike, then head back to the hotel to change. I’ll pick up my parents from the airport, have a big lunch, hang out till dinner, then get something small to eat in the hotel. Plan is to be in bed by 9PM.
Sunday, I’ll wake up at 4:00AM, down an Ensure, eat some granola with a little bit of yogurt, go to the bathroom 3x or so, stretch, and just get excited for the race. I will head over to the race around 5:45AM or so since most of the bag checking and setup will be on Saturday. I’ll eat a PB Gel, have some water, and probably get in one more bathroom trip before putting on the wetsuit. Then it’s GO TIME!
Swim (Goal: <1:10)
I’ve thought a lot about where to line up. My swim goal should put me in the top 1/3 of participants, and given the start (it’s a mass start with 3000 athletes where you start in the water, not running into the water), I plan to start in the 2nd-4th row of people assuming I can get there amid the crowds in the AM. In the context of everyone, there are probably 30 rows of people. Check out this video as you can see, it probably takes 2 minutes just to get to the swim start if you start in the back.I will try to start in the center as it appears this is where the fewest people line up (more to right since they think this is where it will be “less crowded” since it’s furthest from the buoy line and a ton on the far left since this is the shortest route).
I heard from a Team EN member that you can’t get into the water until after the pros start, which means you only have 10 minutes to get to your position. I’ll go out a little bit harder in the first 2-3 minutes, but I plan to settle into my goal time of about 1:40/100M (that puts me at 1:07 or so assuming I swim 4000M because of extra swimming + 3 minutes of whatever for misc issues).
T1 (Goal: < 10 minutes)
I’ll get out of the water, get “stripped” from the wetsuit strippers, and grab my bag. I plan to put on a tri jersey that I’ll bike/run in, attach race belt, put on sunglasses, helmet, down some water, put on my shoes, grab my bike and get going. I plan on going sockless in case I decide I don’t want to stop and just want to pee while I go. I’ll put socks in my special needs bag just in case my feet need it after 56 miles.
Bike (Goal: < 6 hours)
I’ll get on my bike and stick to the EN strategy that I will just ride along. The goal is to get my heart rate down after the swim, hopefully in high zone 1, low zone 2, although I anticipate high zone 2 / low zone 3 coming out of the water. I will be passed by a ton of people at the beginning of the bike as more people go out much harder then I intend to ride as I want to ride hard enough to maintain my legs for the run.
During this just ride along phase, I’ll eat a PB Gel and drink water to catch up on hydration and calories from the swim. I will have two bottles of infinit on the bike that I will drink and ditch over the first 2.5 hours. I’ll have my speedfil full of water where I will then switch to eating PB Gels every 30 minutes after 2.5 hours to get in my 200-250 calories. I’ll leave two infinit water bottles in my special needs bag so I don’t have to do TOO many Gels, and that will replace Gels if I decide to take them at that point. Also, given the weather, I will have an S!Cap every 1.5 hours (and if really warm, every hour). That’s 4 on the bike, 2 on the run.
The food/hyrdation plan on the bike is make/break for the race. It’s critical I follow this exactly and not forget anything. I’ve fortunately been training with powerbar stuff, so I should be good in case I can’t carry stuff on my bike. The plan is to start carrying a lot, but then just add what I need at each aid station. I will mix in sports drink (perform) towards the end of the ride but stick to my Gel/Infinit/water plan for the first five hours.
Once I just ride along for an hour, I plan on staying in a high zone 2, low zone 3 for the entire ride. The key is to make sure I maintain this heart rate (and not focus on speed) during any windy conditions and the slight uphill grade that takes you out on each loop.
T2 (Goal: < 10 minutes)
This should be an easy one. Drop off the bike, take off shoes, put on socks, put on shoes, take off helmet, take off. I don’t plan on spending much time here as I’m 2/3 done with the IRONMAN!!!!
Run (Goal: < 4 hours)
Once I get off the bike, I’ll be pretty stoked because I love to run. This is my strength, and if I follow my hydration/food/heart rate plan on the bike, then I should pull off one of my best marathons despite being after a long ride/swim. The fun of this will be counting how many people I pass. My goal: 500 people! This should keep my mind occupied. Of course, if I don’t succeed in my hydration strategy, then this will be more like 0 people.
My plan is to go out at 8:15 minute miles. I think I could go harder, but I’ll go easier and see how I feel. This should be in a very low heart rate zone 2, and if I eat/hydrate right, high zone 1. After 6 miles, I’ll pick it up and run 7:45-8 minute miles. I’ll focus on this pace for each mile, lapping it so I stay within my box and just focus on 1 mile at a time.
I plan on slowly trotting through the aid stations. I will stuff my jersey with the sponges they give you to keep my core cool. I don’t want to walk through the aid stations since I did this in my half ironman and I often found it hard to get going again. Of course, I may feel differently on race day, and I do plan to slow down, but I’d prefer not to stop.
I’ll alternate drinking water/powerbar Perform at each aid station, and I’ll focus on keeping cool by pouring water over myself. I will eat a Gel every 45 minutes, and I will have S!Caps for each hour to keep my electrolytes going.
Overall Goal: <12 hours
With that plan, I think I can accomplish my goal as it leaves me about 30 minutes of contingency in case anything goes wrong, and I still hope I can do better than 4 hours on the run and 6 hours on the bike. But you just never know!
Thanks to all of my supporters out there. Most importantly, thanks to my wonderful girlfriend who has been awesome throughout this whole thing. I couldn’t of done this without you!
Becoming an Ironman
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Ironman Training on November 9, 2010
My buddy Tav posted this on his site a week or so before he completed Ironman Canada (and I should mention, tore it up). I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m taking it and re-posting, but all credit goes back there. I read it today during lunch, and damn, I got chills. So the actual landmarks don’t apply to IM AZ, but just about everything else does.
12 days left!!!! I’m thankfully confident and not yet anxious. Really looking forward to this opportunity. Anyways, this is about becoming an Ironman…
Right now you’ve all entered the taper. Perhaps you’ve been at this a few months, perhaps you’ve been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.
You’ve been following your schedule to the letter. You’ve been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until November to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceeded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.
You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.
You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.
You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you’ve already covered so much ground…there’s just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before you…and it will be a fast one.
Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.
It won’t be pretty.
It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren’t ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn’t know what the body already does. Your body knows the truth:
You are ready.
Your brain won’t believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish – that there is too much that can go wrong.
You are ready.
Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It’s the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, “How will I ever be ready?” to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go…knowing that you’d found the answer.
It is worth it. Now that you’re at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.
You are ready.
You will walk onto the lake shore on August 29th, 2010 with nearly 3,000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You’ll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for for so VERY long is finally here.
The bagpipers will walk across the beach. Steve King will ask you to sing along. You will.
O Canada! Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.
The helicopters will roar overhead.
Maranatha will roar. The splashing will surround you.
You’ll stop thinking about Ironman, because you’re now racing one.
The swim will be long – it’s long for everyone, but you’ll make it.
You’ll watch as the Penticton Lakeside Hotel grows and grows, and soon you’ll hear the end. You’ll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what’s happening, then you’ll head for the bike.
In the shadows on Main Street you’ll spin out of town – the voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero’s sendoff.
You won’t wipe the smile off your face for miles as you whisk along the lakeside, past fully stocked, silent aid stations for the run to come.
You’ll spin up McLean Creak Road. You’ll roll down towards Osoyoos, past the vineyards glowing in the morning sun. You’ll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You’ll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.
Richter Pass will come. Everyone talks about it, but it’s really nothing. You’ll know this halfway up, as you’re breathing easy and climbing smoothly. Look to your right. Look how high you’re climbing.
Look at all the bikes below, still making their way there. You’re ahead of them. All of them.
You’ll climb over Richter, and descend to the valley below. You’ll ride the rollers, one at a time. You’ll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It’s warmer now. Maybe it’s hot. Maybe you’re not feeling so good now. You’ll keep riding. You’ll keep drinking.
You’ll keep moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?
You’ll put the rollers behind you. You’ll head into the Cawston out and back. You’ll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride the wrong way for what seems like hours. 10 miles in, you reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.
By now it’ll be hot. You’ll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You’ve been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won’t – not here. Not today. You’ll ride on leaving Cawston behind you and head for the final showdown at Yellow Lake.
You’ll grind the false flats to the climb. You’ll know you’re almost there. You’ll fight for every inch of road. You’ll make the turn towards the summit as the valley walls close in for the kill, and put your head down. The crowd will come back to you here – the cars are always waiting to cross the summit, and you’ll soon be surrounded in the glorious noise that is the final climb of Ironman Canada. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you – your body will get just that little bit lighter.
Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
Summit.
Just like that, you’ll be descending. 12 miles to go, and no climbing left. You’ll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come – soon! You’ll roll back into town – you’ll see people running out. You’ll think to yourself, “Wasn’t I just here?” The noise will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air – you’re back in Penticton, with only 26.2 miles to go. You’ll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.
You’ll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike.
You’ll give it up and not look back. You’ll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you’ll go. You’ll change. You’ll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer
- the one that counts.
You’ll take that first step of a thousand…and you’ll smile. You’ll know that the bike won’t let you down now – the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a Penticton summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you’ve worked for all year long.
That first mile will feel great. So will the second.
By mile 3, you probably won’t feel so good.
That’s okay. You knew it couldn’t all be that easy. You’ll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You’ll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great – some won’t. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don’t panic – this is the part of the day where whatever you’re feeling, you can be sure it won’t last.
You’ll keep moving. You’ll keep drinking. You’ll keep eating. Maybe you’ll be right on plan – maybe you won’t. If you’re ahead of schedule, don’t worry – believe. If you’re behind, don’t panic – roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.
How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don’t waste energy worrying about things – just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don’t sit down – don’t EVER sit down.
You’ll make it to halfway at OK Falls. You’ll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won’t. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don’t. You’re headed in – they’re not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy – you’ll get it right back.
Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.
The miles will drag on. The brilliant Penticton sunshine will yawn, and head for the mountains behind the bike course…behind that last downhill you flew down all those hours ago. You’ll be coming up to those aid stations you passed when you started the bike…fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.
You’ll soon only have a few miles to go. You’ll start to believe that you’re going to make it. You’ll start to imagine how good it’s going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don’t want to move anymore, think about what it’s going to be like when someone catches you…puts a medal over your head…
…all you have to do is get there.
You’ll start to hear town. People you can’t see in the twilight will cheer for you. They’ll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on the run, and now when you’ve come back.
You’ll enter town. You’ll start to realize that the day is almost over. You’ll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you’re lucky), but you’ll ask yourself, “Where did the whole day go?” You’ll be standing on the edge of two feelings – the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.
You’ll hit mile 25. You’ll turn onto Lakeside Drive. Your Ironman Canada will have 1.2 miles – just 2KM left in it.
You’ll run. You’ll find your legs. You’ll fly. You won’t know how, but you will run. You’ll make the turn in front of the Sicamous in the dark, and head for home. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon you’ll be able to hear the music again. This time, it’ll be for keeps.
You’ll listen for Steve King, or Mike Reilly, or Whit Raymond. Soon they’ll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You’ll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the nightsun made just for you.
They’ll say your name.
You’ll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.
The moment will be yours – for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.
You’ll break the tape. The flash will go off.
You’ll stop. You’ll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly…be capable of nothing more.
Someone will catch you.
You’ll lean into them.
It will suddenly hit you.
You will be an Ironman.
You are ready.
Ironman: you may have taken my life, but you will never take my…
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Cycling, Ironman Training, Training Tips on November 3, 2010
Braveheart flashbacks anyone? God that movie is awesome.
Anyways, that’s my bike chillin on a ride back in July when I was a biking fan. Doesn’t it look happy, basking in the beautiful Southern California sun. That was back in a time when Yes, I had hard rides, but nothing like what I’ve experienced in the past three months. That is when I decided I wanted to follow a plan, and that is when I switched from biking to training.
To me, training isn’t just following this periodic training schedule where you add more hours to weekly workouts, step back in your fourth week, and then add more mileage again – slow pace, long hours, lots of volume, low (aerobic) intensity. Training is having a very structured plan where every workout feeds the next and each workout can be measured in degrees of success (or failure).
For example, this morning, I swam 3000 meters. I was supposed to take my most recent race pace (from my swim last week), and subtract 2-3 seconds from each 100M over the course of various 500M, 300M and 200M sets. I know whether I succeeded or not because I know if I hit those times in each set. I then had to run for 60 minutes with 2-3 1 mile intervals in my Zone 4-5 (about 5:40-6:00 pace) after some strides in my warmup. I measure my average time over those intervals so I know whether I’m successful or not, and if unsuccessful, how close I was to success.
As you can see, this is training. This is opposite from what I did last night where I left the heart rate strap at home and rode for an hour on my nicely tuned bike. I did do intervals, but on feel, not on pace/HR. It felt awesome. Back in July, when I took this pic, it was probably in the middle of a 70 mile ride or so, and I felt good enough to stop, take in the sun, enjoy the day.
I’ve lost touch with that over the last few months. I mean hell, on my last ride, I didn’t even stop to pee – I actually practiced pissing all over myself just to save time (yeah, normal, right?). I’ve joined Team EN, and I will never regret that decision. But in order to keep my weekly hours to around 15, I’ve had to increase the intensity of all my workouts to make them comparable to a typical Ironman schedule of 20-25 hours. What this means is that the intensity I get out of a 15 hour workout is the same as the intensity someone gets out of a 20 hour workout. The benefit is I spend 5 less hours doing it.
Well, the drawback is, I’m constantly complaining, in pain, tired, and often dreading my workouts. I used to go out on my bike, enjoy the sun, the scenery, and just enjoy that I had this time to myself to bike down the coast. I’d hit traffic lights and wouldn’t care (too much). I’d get passed by other bikers and just say hello. I’d turn around and face a headwind and just go slower on the way back. It was joyful. And if I wanted to bike 50 miles instead of 70, I just did it. With this experience though, I felt misguided, and being the person I am, I needed a plan. So I found Endurance Nation and felt like I was in good hands – I trust what they preach.
The challenge though is that I’m a perfectionist, so when my workout plans tell me to do 4 hours, I hate doing 3:59 and 38 seconds. When it says spend 1 hour in Z4/Z5 (over a series of intervals with rest of course), then I do it and I hate taking breaks to coast. So I could easily enjoy biking if I wasn’t a perfectionist, but being one and following a plan, I hate to take time off. And as a result, my joy of biking has gone away.
Sidenote: I’m horrible at listening to the advice that says, “Don’t follow your training plan into a brick wall”. I’ve definitely done that at times, and in hindsight, I will probably not do this again.
I long for the days of just getting on my bike, Garmin attached, and getting lost on the map and finding new routes. I long for the day where I don’t ride by an empty river bed because I need straight aways to get my 15 minute intervals in without stopping. I truly want to find enjoyment in cycling again…the same enjoyment I’ve found in both running and swimming, which despite the hard core training, I have not lost.
I offer this as a warning to future first time ironmen/women. Don’t lose the love of what you’re doing. This is a choice, and if the burden gets too tough, take a day off. Take a few days off. Don’t lose your love of the sports you’re participating in. Without it, it’s hard to find the motivation within to keep going. I’ve been fortunate enough to get to the finish line. I’ve been in pain, but the biggest struggle has been mentally, and luckily, I overcame the person deep down that wanted me to quit.
I’m looking forward to race day. Aside from the fact that I will be stuffing my face with turkey just 4 days later and having a full 12 days off from work, something I haven’t had ever, AND taking several days if not weeks off from training, I will be riding for 6 hours in a new city with new weather with more people then I have ever ridden with in a zone 2 (maybe low zone 3) heart rate the whole time. And as much as people dread running after that, I get to do what I love most – run to finish it all. To me, that sounds a lot like what I used to do.
The real test here is not can I survive race day. But can I say to myself that I did everything I could to make this race successful and step up to the starting line to try to conquer what I thought was impossible without any regrets. To that I say yes, and even if I don’t finish, I know deep down I’m an Ironman.
First Ironman
Posted by Adam Ainbinder in Ironman Training on October 17, 2010
I’m five weeks away from my first Ironman. It’s been a long journey, which started nearly a year ago when I made the decision to sign up for IM Arizona. Training really started then as well since I began working towards my first half ironman, and then truly began in May when I started working towards this full.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve heard a lot of talk from friends and acquaintances about doing an Ironman. Most of the time I hear how it would be “Legendary” (in the great words of Barney from How I met your Mother) or “Epic”. I would agree too, completing the race would be both of those things, and I know that’s what pushed me to sign up. But after putting in the work over the last year, which is truly the Ironman part of a 140.6 race, I have a VERY different view of an Ironman.
An Ironman is a damn humbling experience. It requires sacrifice, which makes you realize the things that are important in life that you’ve given up in order to achieve this feat. I think a lot of people don’t think about this sacrifice when signing up, and when it slaps them in the face 28 weeks from the race, the “epic” adventure feels nearly impossible. That feeling hit me about 6 weeks ago, and I will be the first to admit that it’s VERY difficult to move past that mental block.
But now I’m 5 weeks away, which when you factor in the taper, means only about 2.5 weeks more of hard training. That’s real close to the finish line, and I’m pretty pumped to get to the race. And that’s what made me write this post. On my routine 4.5 hour hard ass interval bike ride yesterday, I met a guy named Harold on my final stretch who really made me think about this experience.
I was about 3 hours into the ride, finished with all my intervals, and pushing it down the Santa Ana River Trail in my final stretch into the wind. I passed Harold with about 9 miles left on the trail, and with about 4 miles to go, I realized he kept with me the entire way, which hasn’t happened to often in these later stages of training as my bike has got much faster.
After pulling him into this headwind for several miles, he pulled up next to me and we started chatting. I love this about cycling in that you can talk much easier than running, and you instantly have something in common with those riding. He had Ironman stickers on his handle bars, so of course I asked. He did his first half iron in 1995 and full in 1998 (if I remember correctly), and he’s been an avid rider/triathlete ever since.
So I told him about my first race in 5 weeks, and he proceeded to tell me this:
- At the event, you can tell instantly who has trained and who hasn’t trained. If you put in your time, race day is just another long workout
- He remembers his first Ironman like it was yesterday…the feeling, the smells, the faces as he crossed the finish line. He said there’s rarely a better feeling in the world then crossing that finish line of your first Ironman. You’ll remember it forever
- Don’t worry if you don’t sleep the night before. Make sure you sleep well two nights before. Your mind will be racing the night before, but your body is resting. That is all you need.
- What’s my nutrition plan? If I’m not answering that question EXACTLY as I’m going to do, I’m going to be in a world of hurt
- I told him my goal was to finish, but would be great to do it in less than 12 hours. He said, if you finish in 11 hours, 11:58, 12:58 or 16:58, you’re still an Ironman
It was great meeting Harold and having a short 20 minute conversation with him. I learned a lot, and despite starting this adventure because it was “legendary”, I quickly realized that this training is everything but legendary. It’s painful. It’s long. It’s draining. It makes me miss the simple, enjoyable things in life like time with my girlfriend, sleep, hanging with friends, etc…
But I will tell you this, now that the finish line is in site (which is the starting line of the race), I can look back and say I learned more about myself in this experience then probably anything I’ve ever done in my life. That’s why I would recommend an Ironman to someone. Yeah it’s cool to tell someone you’re an Ironman, but the personal takeaways from the experience will be worth far more. Even if I don’t make it across the finish line, I will remember this humbling experience forever.
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