Quarantine Racing: Fitness & Fulfillment in 2020

Let me get this out of the way first. I’m not going to lament over cancelled races, changed plans or lost travel opportunities this year. The one thing I am proudest of this year has been Amanda’s and my ability to change our focus and find purpose in new challenges. For Amanda it’s been a new focus on strength and functional fitness. For me, it has been an opportunity to spend a season becoming a stronger, smarter and faster runner.

My season started with an early spring solo 10k PR of 33:20 which was a thrilling confirmation of my new training approach and sparked a renewed love for going fast. I used that fitness to have some fun with Strava challenges, culminating in a new fastest time on my favourite local trail over some elite trail runners. Then I had some fun with a sub-7 beer mile that doubled as a test of my GI training; an important piece of the puzzle for my “goal event” of the year, my first ultramarathon.

I had initially planned to do a non-technical trail 50k as a gentle introduction to ultra running. But in the words of my non-runner dad, “that’s barely longer than a marathon, why don’t you do something longer?” Really the goal event or distance was secondary to the process of learning and preparing; I’ve been increasingly intrigued by ultras the past few years and this summer was a great opportunity to explore the gear, logistics and training approaches to something I used to think of as crazy or impossible. I also hoped that it would provide a different avenue to sort out the severe GI issues that have plagued me in every race longer than 3 hours in the past 5 years.

Throughout the summer I maintained good bike fitness at lower than usual volume (5-6 hours per week), averaged 1 swim and 2-3 strength and mobility sessions per week. But I bumped up my run mileage about 50% higher than what I’ve done in past tri seasons, even when training for Ironman. I averaged 85-90k per week almost entirely on trails through the spring and summer, maxing out at 115k. Still very modest in the world of ultra running, but it was a sweet spot that I could consistently hit and I saw good fitness gains without getting too worn down.

I ended up signing up for a virtual 6-hour event based in Nova Scotia called Round the Lake. Mostly because it was sponsored by two craft breweries. But the timing and distance lined up well with my training and I wanted a little extra motivation of being accountable to some kind of leaderboard. The goal was simple – start at 8:00AM and cover as much distance as possible until 2:00PM. I planned some of the major logistics like fueling plan, starting point and route options, but didn’t over plan the specifics to have some flexibility during the run.

My run began with just about the most anticlimactic “race” start ever. Even at an Ironman in which you know you’ll be out there until almost (or after) sundown, it’s a pretty epic and energetic start. For my solo ultra, when the clock ticked to 8:00AM I casually broke out in a slow jog and waved to my mom who had come out to support.

Pre-race, uhh, excitement

I hoped that the first miles, better yet the first three hours, would be relaxed and perhaps even enjoyable. It was a beautiful morning – for now – and I felt grateful that I had the opportunity to face a new challenge. But the anticipation of what was to come also weighed heavily.

Having looked at the weather radar before starting I knew we were going to get slammed with storms at some point during my run, potentially severe enough that I’d have to stop and seek shelter. After some pre-race stressing I embraced the unknown as part of the crazy world of ultras. As I got midway through my first 18.5km gravel road loop the black clouds slowly rolled in. I couldn’t help but see it as a metaphor for the impending suffering I’d soon be experiencing – unsure of when it would arrive or how bad it would be, but sure that it was coming.

I knocked off the first 90 minutes as uneventfully as I’d hoped – smooth and comfortable. I picked up a new set of bottles from Amanda and my mom at our “aid station” under a pavilion at a local park and headed out for a shorter 8.5k loop. I realized after leaving that I had forgotten a gel I planned on taking, but made some quick adjustments and all was good.

I got back to the park again around 2:15 total time and was still rolling well, but was already experiencing some general tightness and soreness. I went out for another 8.5k to get back around 3 hours, at which point I’d stop to refuel and change some gear. By now my luck had run out with the weather though and I was caught in a downpour for the next hour. The rain was almost a relief that I had something else to focus on for a while, but there were some unnerving lightning strikes that came along with it. I kept a close eye on it and my mom actually drove out make sure I was ok. But the worst of the lightning stayed just barely far enough away, so I continued on.

Greatest crew in ultra history (incl. mom behind the lens)

When I got back to the pavilion at 3 hours and 37k done I checked in with my crew, which now included our friend Cheryl who came out to support and provide some much needed laughs on my journey. From all accounts my crew had a lot more fun than I did! I took a few minutes to drop my vest in favour of handheld bottles, and change out my soaked socks and shirt. I also switched to my Vaporfly 4% shoes, which I was hesitant to burn miles in, but they felt like heaven on my already trashed feet and calves.

I knocked off a couple shorter loops in town and hit a marathon split of 3:28, but the highlight of my 4^th hour was being briefly joined by Tyrannosaurus Cheryl. I almost fell over laughing when Cheryl in her T-Rex suit ran over to me yelling “Dino-mite!” I could hear Amanda cackling from down the road as I continued on my way.

Proof that I wasn't hallucinating the T-Rex attack

I stopped again at 4 hours just shy of 48k to fill my bottles, and since the rain had let up a bit Amanda joined me on her bike for the 5^th hour. My longest individual run in training was 3:40 (43k on trails), and longest total run day was just over 4 hours (a 50k double) so I was trusting in my training that emphasized well-rounded run fitness and economy over very long/slow individual runs. My energy and mental focus were still good, stomach was 100% even taking in a few more calories than I had planned, but it was starting to feel pretty tedious.

I hadn’t done any walking yet besides my two planned aid station stops, but decided to do 10 minute run/1 minute walk for the next hour to hopefully save my legs a bit for the final hour. The walking didn’t really feel much better than running but at least it temporarily changed the stimulus…so other things could hurt instead for a minute. I was getting more intense waves of fatigue and pain in my quads, knees and calves.

Amanda was still riding with me and told me to take it easy if I had to, which briefly reminded me of the ridiculousness of this being completely self-inflicted. But I was still having some good moments too and I really wanted to do justice to my first ultra attempt; whether or not I’d ever do another, I wanted to really go for it and see what I was capable of. I hit a pretty serious wall at 4.5 hours but I managed it and kept moving forward.

53k in...

Amanda: where does it hurt?

Ryan: the waist down

I was around 58k at 5 hours and stopped again for new bottles, some food and a quick mental reset. I got myself going for another loop through town but by now I was firmly on the struggle bus. My quads were shattered and cramped on every step, but when I walked my hip flexors would lock up and were equally painful. I hit 60k around 5:14 and decided I would suffer through laps of the 1.3k gravel path around the park to finish off.

My dad and brother came out to give some words of encouragement as I hobbled past, then Amanda and Cheryl, along with our dogs, joined me for the final 40 minutes around the park. At that point it was the most acutely painful experience I’ve ever had running – not from injury, just the prolonged effort and muscle damage from nearly six hours of running. My Ironman runs have been exceptionally difficult from overcoming GI distress, nausea and the general fatigue of racing for 10+ hours, but this was a different kind of misery.

I was still motivated to get as far as I could but with about 15 minutes left I had to stop and sit again for a brief respite from the pain. I wanted to just let the clock tick down as I sat there, but I got going again and figured I could get two more laps of the park done before the time limit. It was really ugly, and if not for my epic support crew I may have just lied down in the grass and cried myself to sleep. But they kept me going right through to the end. At 1:59:58PM - I didn’t want to go over and get DQ’d! - I stopped my watch at 66.62k. For the data junkies that worked out to 5:24/km overall average, 5:12/km average moving pace and an average heart rate of 138 (about 74% of max).

I was extremely grateful for my awesome crew who endured a long rainy day supporting me and made my run infinitely more fun and successful. I was proud of myself for persevering and getting the most out of myself with absolutely no extrinsic reward. And I was thrilled that my new approaches to training and gut challenges resulted in the most comfortable (stomach-wise) I’ve ever been in a long distance event.

But the lasting memory I’ll have from my ultra debut was just how friggin’ much it hurt! With my fueling on point, good fitness and stubbornness mental focus, the biggest performance limiter in this event was pain tolerance from the fatigue and muscle damage of running for 6 hours on mostly pavement. It was by far the sorest I’ve ever been after a race, and frankly it didn’t feel particularly healthy or good for my long term durability as an athlete.

Like any other athletic goal I've taken on, I wasn't interested in trying an ultra simply to complete it - I wanted to push myself as far as I could go and see what I was capable of. If I wasn’t concerned about maximizing distance it may have been more tolerable on trails with increased variability. But personally I just can’t fathom how running for that long or far on any terrain would ever be enjoyable.

Ultimately this fun quarantine challenge gave me purpose and focus through a difficult summer and left me with a ton of respect for ultra runners, but little desire to sign up for a Western States qualifier. I am however really looking forward to applying the lessons I’ve learned this year to my true passions of running fast on road and trails, and continuing my progression at long course tris.

Thanks to everyone who supported this run and my summer on the trails, and for reading! I hope that I can connect with my endurance pals at a real finish line again soon. But if not, there's no shortage of motivation and personal challenges to keep exploring!

The Test

With 2019 being my first non-Ironman year in three seasons I expected to face some challenges in terms of training focus and goal-setting this year. There's nothing that simultaneously inspires me and crushes my dreams quite like Ironman does. But the emotional, financial and time commitment is not sustainable year after year. 

After another tough day in Mont Tremblant last year I knew that I needed to step away and find motivation in other challenges. I genuinely enjoyed every bit of the training and appreciated the experience of race day, but I simply couldn’t fathom ever working so hard and suffering so much again, to walk another marathon.

However, I also knew that my last non-IM year in 2016 ended abruptly with injury and burnout less than half way through the summer – issues that have often plagued me when racing shorter distances and I was dismayed to realize I hadn’t overcome yet. I want to have a successful and meaningful year of racing, not just an "in-between" year putting my biggest goals on the shelf. In order to do that I would have to seek out some exciting new challenges and also reframe my approach to training to stay healthy and motivated.

My biggest goal for 2019 is simple: focus on the process. Enjoy the physical and mental challenges of every workout, appreciate the structure and purpose that daily training provides, and challenge my perceived limits in a bunch of different race disciplines.

My first race on the calendar was Around the Bay 30k. With a refreshed mindset I had a great winter of training in all disciplines. Based on my run workouts I was aiming to go 4-6 minutes faster than my previous ATB time of 1:58 in 2015. Florida Camp was going to put the finishing touches on a great build, but it culminated in a 10 mile walk around the Orange Grove with severe Achilles pain – on a day that I planned to run a minimum of 26.2 miles.

Evidently, it’s easy to enjoy the process when everything is going perfectly.

A week after camp I was still in pain and I watched my chance at a breakthrough result slip away, missing week after week of key long runs. But after a few days of moping I reminded myself: focus on the process. The purpose of this race was to help keep me motivated through the winter and bank a quality race effort to kick start my spring season. If I was smart about managing the Achilles I could still accomplish that. So two weeks out from the race I took the entire week off running.

Race week came and I was able to resume my usual pre-race runs pain-free. After a follow up with my physiotherapist I was sufficiently confident that I could start the race without risking further injury or setback. Coach James’ goal for me was to enjoy a fun long run with the intention of dropping at 20k and catching a relay bus back. But I can admit now that I was pretty set on getting the full distance in if everything felt good. My new challenge was to get through a tough 30k course pain free, having maxed out my long run at 21k over a month prior.

I managed to connect with a few LPC teammates before the race to get an idea of who I might be able to run with to make things more enjoyable. I figured if I couldn’t focus on my own time goal maybe I could help someone else with theirs. My Hurdle Project teammate Katie Peach was aiming for a big PB and her goal pace worked out perfectly for what I hoped to accomplish. Another LPCer Sean Henderson was also going to join us for the first half as part of his build for IM Texas, before negative splitting for a big marathon day.

It turned out to be an extremely rewarding race, accomplishing my process goals and having fun as a pacer for the first time. In fact maybe I'll just start pacing instead of racing myself! Katie and I managed to nail our goal 10k (44:30) and 20k (1:30:00) splits to the second. I could tell she was starting to hurt through the challenging final 10k and even though I was trying to play it cool as a good pacer my quads were totally smashed by 25k with the lack of training miles. But I focused on "doing my job" as a good teammate and Katie hung tough for a huge PB of 2:17 and change.

I didn't get the chance to rip a new PB of my own but it was a different kind of challenge to get through the full distance with a less than ideal build-up. And playing a very small part in helping a teammate have a great race added a huge amount of purpose and enjoyment to my own experience. My Achilles held up well too so I’ll continue to manage it (ie. no more 30k races on minimal training) and look forward to building on a fun start to the 2019 season.

So I guess I passed the first test (of many to be sure) of my focus on enjoying the process and not letting the outcome of races dictate the success of my season. The reality is that injuries happen and not every race can be a new PB. But that’s all part of the process and it all needs to be embraced just as much as the big performances and epic days. Maybe (BIG maybe), if I can continue to apply that mindset, I’ll be ready to try an Ironman again someday :)

Ironman Mont Tremblant

I'm never doing that again

Perhaps the most popular words spoken after finishing an Ironman. After going to hell and back to finish Ironman Canada last year, I really meant that.

I started doing triathlons because I idolized people who finished Ironmans. Since my first year in the sport as a 17 year old, I looked at course maps of all the North American Ironman races and counted the days until I felt that I was ready to sign up for one. Even when I was racing elite draft-legal, I always felt like I was just building my fitness bank while dreaming of the Kona start line. After years of progressing at the half distance, in 2015 I finally felt ready and set my sights on Ironman Louisville.

I reveled in my first Ironman summer, through every mile and minute I logged, because I was on my journey to becoming an Ironman. I wanted to be one of those superhuman guys that did one - or more - every year, battling though these crazy events and maybe even qualifying for Hawaii. When race day finally came, it started like a dream with a lifetime best swim and bike. Then 10k into the run on a 3:15 marathon pace, everything started to unravel. I started throwing up and everything that I tried to take in came right back up. Not knowing what to do besides "just keep running", I pushed myself to the point of no return. My Ironman journey ended in the back of an ambulance with a couple bags of IV fluid draining into my arm.

The following year I tried to push the feelings of shame and self doubt out of my mind and focused on short course. I set PB's in nearly all distances and disciplines until injuries ended my season and forced me to think hard about my motivation in the sport. I knew that I had to return to Ironman and redeem myself. So I signed up for Ironman Canada, the race I had dreamed about for 10 years. I tweaked my nutrition plan, spent hours reading sports nutrition journals, and trained my ass off.

After once again dedicating a full year of building my life around one day, my race in Whistler proved to be a transformative experience. Another great swim, survived the insanely challenging and beautiful bike course, and at 12k into the run I thought to myself, "I hope my parents have beers on ice, I'm punching a ticket to Kona today!" 10 minutes later, I was doubled over throwing up, again. I learned my lesson from Louisville though and I walked. For nearly five hours.

I went to some very deep and dark places in my mind on the Whistler trails, but what I found there a level of strength and perseverance that I didn't know I had. When I finally crossed the finish line I was so physically and emotionally drained I couldn't even lift my arms to celebrate, but it was the biggest athletic - and personal - accomplishment of my life.

Mom was fired up

Two Ironmans, on completely different nutrition plans, both with severe GI issues. I told myself "Never again. I got my finish, but I'm never going through that again."

A few weeks after the race I heard rumor that a ton of our Balance Point Triathlon Club friends were signing up for Ironman Mont Tremblant 2018. The suffering of IMC was still fresh in my mind though and I didn't give it much thought. Until sports nutrition expert Coach Mark from LPC put the bug in my ear: "There are lots of different things we can try with your nutrition!" Insert scratchy chin emoji face.

After some long talks with Coach James about race plans, Mark about the latest sport nutrition research and my sweat sodium testing, and Amanda about our work/life balance, I decided I was ready for another one. I was confident, mentally stronger, and desperate for another chance at the Ironman result I knew I was capable of. I was more motivated than ever to be on the journey again and attempt to solve the puzzle.

IMMT 2018 consumed my summer. I had the strongest and most consistent training block of my life. I did all the little things right. I tracked every damn molecule of my sport nutrition for three months with dozens of spreadsheets to prove it. I was dialed. My last 7.5 hour brick was one of the best workouts of my life, having done most of it at or below a 9:30 IM pace and felt fantastic at the end. I knew unequivocally that I was ready.

Of course I wasn't naive. I hadn't had any significant GI issues in training prior to either Louisville or Canada and I would once again be heading into the unknown when I got past 8 hours into the race. I knew it was a possibility that I'd have stomach problems again, or some other crazy challenge that I hadn't even considered. But I was mentally prepared for anything. My goals for the race were as follows, in this order:

1. Get an epic finishing picture
2. Win the mental battles and conquer the day
3. 9:40

Amanda and I arrived in Mont Tremblant on Thursday night. The next day my parents came along with my amazing aunt and uncle, who drove all the way from Alberta to spectate another one of these crazy things. Friday night we met up with Coach Gabbi and a few of the 16-strong BPT athletes, many of whom were doing their first Ironman. It was already an incredible week and I was ready for the race of my life.

Race morning came at 4:30am after a great sleep. Amanda and I went down to transition and she pumped up some of our BPT friends while I did my final gear check. We walked over to the swim start to the news that we would be delayed due to fog on the lake, though the CF-18s didn't get the memo and torched through the fog at precisely 6:35am.

Photo: Adam Plante

An hour later, the pro men were finally on the start line as the fog cleared off. Then literally the second the cannon fired, another fog bank rolled in and it was the thickest it had been all morning. But I didn't care, I just wanted to get this damn thing started. At 7:45 it was time for the age groupers to start. I lined up in the sub-1:05 corral and with a couple dolphin dives I was within the first 50 athletes in the water.

The fog certainly made for one of the more unique swims I've ever done. It was a bit daunting to jump in the water unable to even see the first buoy, but I stayed relaxed, trusted in my stroke and got on with the task at hand. It may have even been easier to not have to look out across the lake and see just how far we had to go!

cred: unknown, found on Facebook

I took away some hard lessons from my poor swims in my first two races of the year and systematically addressed my weaknesses in the six weeks after Muskoka 70.3. I did most of my swimming in open water working on my drafting skills, sighting and feel for my stroke in my wetsuit. I also worked diligently at finding the efficiency that helped me to a 59 minute swim in Whistler last year off limited swimming. I realized that I've had great swims in my first two Ironmans because I was focused on staying relaxed with a strong core and smooth stroke, and because I WASN'T focused on trying to swim "hard". So I did exactly that and cruised through the water, not allowing the claustrophobic fog affect my mindset. You couldn't see the buoys until you were almost on top of them but I managed to find them every time, which I took as a sign that I was swimming well.

Slowly but surely I could start to make out the shore line through the fog, and finally I could see sand beneath me as the swim exit came in sight. I had no idea what my swim time was and I really didn't care - it was probably the most relaxed swim I've ever done and I felt amazing running through the cheers to T1. Quick but methodical transition and I was out onto the bike course.

Swim time: 1:01. Solid start to the day!

photo: Ken Milner

I took my time settling into the bike, "just like any other training day, except I don't have to stop for bottles this time!" Similar to Muskoka a bunch of riders came blasting past me on the first couple hills but I stuck to my plan knowing its a VERY long day and I'd probably see them all again in a few hours. My average power was around 225W getting on Hwy 117, just a tad high so I eased off a bit even though it felt incredibly easy...for now.

#aeroiseverything

I was in a good rhythm heading out to the first turnaround although the course was insanely crowded. With Louisville being a time trial start and Whistler only having about 1400 athletes, this was by far the most crowded course I had experienced in an IM.

Around 30k a draft pack of 10-15 guys came past me just at the base of a hill and the back of the group sat up as they all bunched together starting the hill. I had to get out of my aerobars to let the goofballs go, but before I could do anything I heard someone yell "Parlez-vous Anglais?!"

I turned to see an official who promptly told me I had received a 5 minute drafting penalty. My heart skipped a beat as I nearly screamed "ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?!" I have never gotten a penalty in my life and I despise drafters. I held my tongue and calmly asked him to explain my infraction, to which he replied that I did not drop back quickly enough.

I knew there was no sense in trying to ask why he chose not to card anyone who was ACTUALLY riding in a draft pack and singled me out, and I certainly didn't want to get DQ'd for arguing with him. So I did the only thing I could - I accepted it, told him that it was not intentional and I would report to the next penalty tent. My next thought was that the 5 minutes better not screw up my overall time too much...but my cooler head prevailed and I told myself, "you knew something weird would go wrong today, this must be it!"

The penalty tent was another 20k away, and between the congestion on the course and my paranoia of getting another penalty, it was very difficult to maintain a rhythm or even hold any speed until I got there. Imagine trying to leave 100 feet of space in Toronto rush hour with nut jobs zooming in there as soon as there's daylight in front of you...that's what it was like trying to keep 12 meters back from everyone. But eventually I got to the tent, relaxed and let it go. There was another rider in there who told me he saw the official give me the penalty and couldn't believe he carded me...which made me feel a bit better! But I calmly let the 5:00 tick down as I got my forced break, then had a clear and positive mindset as I got going again.

Keeping the power in check

I got back into a good rhythm and stuck to my goal wattage of 210-215W for the remainder of the first lap. My nutrition plan was on track so far, although the small bites of solid food that I took in the first 2 hours of the bike were a little harder to get down than in any of my training rides. I listened to my body, eased off the power for a bit and opted for a simpler fuel source for my next nutrition interval.

70k in, back past the village

Starting the second lap I was feeling a bit mentally and physically drained...not bad but a little more than I had experienced in my previous Ironmans at half way. I decided I would stop for my special needs which included a third bottle of my sport drink along with 200mL of coke. On one of my last long rides I was feeling really drained and had half a can of coke at my pit stop, so I went with the same approach. It seemed to bring me back up a bit and I felt reasonably good to the first turnaround on the second lap, around 125k.

On my way back east on 117 I was starting to feel the fatigue again, but it was getting increasingly difficult to get any nutrition down. My stomach just felt off and my sport drink was not sitting well. I decided to toss it and switch to Gatorade - once again, something I had practiced in training in case I missed my special needs or I needed to switch to simple sugar. I learned from Louisville that forcing down my nutrition on the bike was a BAD idea, so I did my best to adapt by backing off the effort even more and skipped one of my gels.

Starting to feel it

By 140k my energy was starting to wane as I continued to take in only as much fuel as my stomach would agree with. I stuck mostly to liquids for the final hour but every time I had a sip of something, half of it would come right back up. I was holding back the frustration that I had never felt this bad on the bike in any of my training rides, but I had my mental strategies in place to stay focused. I struggled up Duplessis, as I knew I would, then relaxed a bit on the way back down to mentally prepare for the run.

I accepted that I wasn't going to crush the bike today, but I was doing a good job of managing the ride given the circumstances that race day provided. I knew my race was going to be decided on the run and I was still extremely motivated to execute a strong marathon. I cleared my mind getting off the bike, did a quick change and headed out. The thought of starting a marathon on an iffy stomach was pretty daunting but I stayed optimistic. After all, I "only" had to run a 3:30 to break 10 hours. All of my training indicated that I was capable of running 3:15 or better.

My only goal for the first lap of the run was to still be running starting the second lap. I knew that if I could do that, it meant that my stomach wasn't holding me back and I had the fitness to finish strong. I had to back off the pace a couple times in the first few k's as I settled in, but by 5k I already had to take a couple short walk breaks to settle my stomach down and try to get small sips of fluids in. Once again, I learned from my past mistakes and listened to my body. My plan was to run only as fast as my body would allow while still being able to eat and drink small amounts every 10-15 minutes.

As I got deeper into the first lap it was becoming increasingly difficult to stomach anything, and as a result I was taking in very little fluid and less than half of my planned nutrition. I figured that less was better than more to avoid absorption issues, but by 16k I could only handle a few ice cubes at each aid station and I was hitting empty. I was having trouble running in a straight line and I wasn't sweating anymore. I drank a cup of water at the next aid station and immediately had severe stomach cramps. I walked for a minute then got back to a slow jog.

At the next aid station I had some Gatorade, and again had to fight it from coming back up. But I was keeping my head in the game. After all, at 15k in Whistler I had to walk an hour straight while fighting non-stop vomiting, nausea and dehydration. This time I was limiting my walk breaks to a minute or less. I may not have been on my goal marathon pace, but I was still moving a lot better than last time.

I saw Amanda then my family at the end of the first lap and they clearly saw that I wasn't having the day I was hoping for. I hit my special needs that I had packed with the only things that sat well with me in Whistler last year - fig newtons and a banana. It wasn't easy heading back out knowing exactly what I was in for.

As I crested the first hill of lap 2 I threw up everything in my stomach. "Ugh. This again." Once again I hadn't absorbed any fluids since the start of the run. I almost nailed a kid on the sidewalk with my projectile vomit and heard the mother say, "its OK, he'll feel better now!" I thought to myself "I f***in wish you were right!"

I walked it off, cleared my mind and prepared myself mentally for a long second lap. When I saw Amanda she told me to run a minute then walk a minute, so I set an auto-lap on my Garmin. I set it to beep every 500 meters. I told myself that I had to run 500 meters no matter how awful I felt, then walk 500 meters. But I also knew if I did that, I'd be out there for a really long time. So my goal was to run the 500 meters, then in the next 500 I could walk as much as I needed to, but run when I could.

A few minutes later I saw Alex Vanderlinden who was having an equally rough day. We both agreed that we would get through it no matter what and I assured him that as brutal as it was, it would be worth it to make it to the finish. We each had to take walk breaks as needed, but it was reassuring to have an ally out there close by.

I stuck to my run/walk strategy as I ran for 500m, then walk/jogged the next interval on my watch while getting in any fluids my stomach would handle. At the aid stations I grabbed a cup of ice and either water or Gatorade, then poured the fluid into the ice and sipped it on my walk breaks, and sucked on a couple ice cubes while I ran. I was still in agony but I was able to hold the fluids down and the auto-lap strategy helped me mentally to dissect the distance. I made it to the far turnaround and was motivated knowing that I was on my way home.

By 35 or 36k I was starting to sweat again and was able to run 2 beeps (1km) before having to walk a minute for the stomach cramps to subside. Then at 37k I checked my watch and realized that I still had a chance of breaking 11 hours, but I couldn't do any more walking. I stopped taking anything at the aid stations, put my head down and ran through the pain towards the village. I desperately wanted to walk for a minute, at least up the hills, but I didn't let myself. I saw Alex at 40k and gave him some final encouragement, then my LPC camp buddy Mark Cullen shortly after and we shared some more positive words. I dragged my ass over the steepest hill (past my barf) then up the last hill through the pedestrian village. I knew I was going to make it, and damn it I was going to enjoy it this time. I turned down the finishing chute and high-fived every outstretched hand.

What an atmosphere!

Goal #1 - accomplished (and official finishing time 10:53). I may not have broken 10 hours, nailed my nutrition or had the race of my life. But it sure as hell was a day to be proud of. I faced my fears of taking on another Ironman knowing full well what I was in for, I managed the day and finished stronger and faster than last year.

I saw my dad who then brought the rest of my family over to find me. They all gave me hugs, and unlike last year I was able to take it all in. I was deeply grateful for the day and their incredible support. It was a moment that I'll never forget.

One of my unofficial goals for this race was to finish in good enough shape that I would be able to head back out later and cheer everyone into the finish. I was so messed up after Whistler that I just sat in the hotel room and passed out shortly after eating. But this time I debriefed the day with my family, showered, grabbed a beer and headed right back out for some poutine and a few hours of cheering with Amanda. As night time fell we joined Gabbi and the rest of the BPT support crew and got to watch every last one of her athletes cross the finish line. It was an experience that I can't put into words - you just have to go watch an Ironman to understand.

3 Ironmans, 2 finishes, each one a little better but the same GI problems every time. Once again, the first words out of my mouth were "Never. Again."

Do I really mean that? It's impossible to say. I honestly don't know if I could put myself through that again; to have one race completely consume my life for a year, then go through agony to finish hours behind what my training and 70.3 results would suggest I'm capable of. But Ironman still holds a special place for me. That sub-10 has eluded me once again, and that's a big goal left unchecked. But - at least for now - I've made my peace with it.

Maybe, if I have some eureka moment and find a completely new approach to training or nutrition, I'll try my luck again. Or maybe I'll help Amanda get through one some day. But I'm also alright with leaving it here, accepting that my limitations at the Ironman distance are completely out of my control, and focus on other goals moving forward. I guess only time will tell.

Ironman 70.3 Muskoka

It seems as though I've managed to once again resurrect this blog after many months of neglect. I really appreciated all the positive comments from my Welland Long Course race report, so for those who still enjoy the art of the written race report in the age of vlogs and Instagram stories, I'll keep doing my thing. Maybe eventually I'll invest in a half decent camera and some editing software to get in the 21st century, but for now I still want to share my experience at Muskoka 70.3. So thanks for the read and I hope you enjoy!

I had been anxiously awaiting Muskoka for a number of reasons...

1... It would serve as my primary tune-up and test for Tremblant in six weeks
2(a)... Amanda's dad Kevin was doing his first 70.3!
2(b)... My Hurdle Project bro Jack Laundry's dad Brian was also racing
2(c)... When Kevin and Brian get together, its guaranteed to be entertaining
3... I had fond memories from the old course in 2013 where I qualified for 70.3 Worlds
4... Coach James has been beating the crap out of me. Doing a race would mean getting out of a weekend of hard training :)

To be completely honest, after one of my best races ever in Welland I was initially a bit worried about Muskoka, wondering if I could meet or exceed that performance just two weeks later (with some BIG training miles sandwiched in between). But similar to Welland I changed my focus to my process goal, which for Muskoka was quite simple: execute a good Ironman prep and go even deeper than I did in Welland. Oh, and set a new 70.3 run PB.

Amanda, my mom, the dogs and I all piled in the car and made our way up to the Switzer cottage in Bala on Thursday night for a fun and relaxing couple days to kick off the weekend. I was laser focused on my goals but was equally excited for Kevin to take on his first half and I enjoyed the opportunity to share some of my long course experience with him before going to battle together on Sunday. Race morning came at 4:10AM and Kevin, Brian and I made the drive to Huntsville with our loyal band of supporters following a few hours later.

Swim:

Unlike virtually every 70.3s that I've ever done, I wasn't in the last wave this time! In fact I was in the first wave so I was looking forward to having a little more space out there than I've gotten used to. For comparison, when I did Muncie 70.3 in 2015 I estimated that I made over 2000 passes on the 2-loop bike course (passing some people twice) as I started in the last wave and was within the first 50 across the line.

In the short turnaround after Welland I worked diligently on my open water skills and increasing my turnover so I was interested to see if there would be any progression. I started fairly aggressively to get on some fast feet through the first 400, but in frustratingly similar fashion to Welland I found myself in no man's land for most of the swim, struggling to relax and settle into an efficient stroke. And while it's always a treat to swim in the fresh waters of Muskoka, the race crew definitely borrowed the Ontario "magic thermometer" to get a wetsuit-legal temperature reading.

I got out of the water 8th in my age group in a time of 30:50, not my best swim but far from my worst.  I spent a little more energy than I needed to in the water but I didn't let it affect my mindset and looked forward to getting to work on the bike.

Bike:

After a relatively quick transition I was sixth onto the bike and took the first few k's to settle into my target power range of ~245W (250-255W NP). No hero rides today, the bike was all about pacing and nutritional execution, testing my Ironman gear and position...and enjoying the scenic ride!

A bit more aggressive than my old IM bike position, but I'm more comfortable than I've ever been in aero and felt great through the whole 90k

The first 10-15k is the most challenging section of the course and a few riders went flying past me on the climbs, but I forced myself to stick to my guns and not get too excited. By the time I got to Baysville at 23k I had caught up to a group of four riders who had gone past me earlier, then promptly dropped them on the first climb out of town. Then it was a long and lonely slog down Hwy 117 to the turnaround.

Around 30k I could see a group of three riders up the road, which I later found out included 1st and 2nd place in my age group. I could see that I was making up time on them but I just focused on sticking to my target power and not doing anything stupid trying to bridge up. I passed one more rider right at the 45k turnaround then saw absolutely nobody ahead or behind me for the second half of the ride (aside from everyone on their way out to the turnaround). But I do all my 6+ hour long rides solo so I didn't have much trouble staying focused on the task at hand, enjoying the rolling roads through cottage country as the perfect Tremblant simulation. I ended up just a few watts shy of my best 70.3 power output with a 2:25 split (37.1km/h) but I executed well and couldn't wait to throw down on the run course.

Looking at the splits afterwards it was a bit painful to see that I reduced the gap to the leaders in my age group from over 2:00 at 24k to just 55 seconds at the turnaround, but then it blew out to 4+ minutes by T2. Interestingly though I held almost perfect pacing from start to finish with only a 2 watt difference in my average power between the first and second half of my ride. So either the leaders were sandbagging from 20-45k, or they dropped the Hammer of Thor on me after the turnaround.

Run:

I was very confident in my running after Welland...maybe a little too confident. So when I dropped my bike off in T2 I also left behind my sensible pacing strategy. I saw Amanda and my whole cheering section starting run down the main drag in Huntsville and casually rolled through the first 2k around 3:39/km. I holstered my sh*t a little after that but still went through 5k under 19 minutes.

All of a sudden at 7-8k it was no longer an option to just ease off a bit and settle back into my actual goal pace of 4:00-4:03/km. I was in a world of hurt. Legs were tying up, stomach was testy (ugh!), I barely made it over a couple small hills...and I wasn't even half way through yet. I thought I'd be reduced to walking at any minute but as I finished lap 1 I took in as much energy as I possibly could from Amanda, James and the moms all cheering. I got a bit of fueling in, ran under the misting station that I skipped on lap 1 (to keep my feet dry) and tried to clear my mind starting lap 2.

I was digging really deep already but managed to get things back under control a bit from 12-15k. I hit 15k in 1:01 and realized that despite how terrible I felt I was still moving pretty well. More importantly I still had a good shot at taking down my four year-old 70.3 run PB of 1:28:39. I did my best to keep my turnover as high as possible and knew that the pain would be worth it for a new PB!

Out to the far turnaround I focused everything I had on trying not to slow down too much and I stayed on track for a 1:26:XX through each k marker all the way to the final turnaround at 18.5k. From there it got really ugly but I wasn't going to let that damn PB slip at that point.

I mean REALLY ugly - but isn't Amanda the best cheerleader ever?!

I hauled myself over the line for a 1:26:26 run and 4:26 overall time, which was good enough for 3rd in my age group and 18th overall. I was really proud of myself that I fought so hard for that run time when I could have easily slipped into damage control mode, but I stayed focused and knocked a solid 2 minutes off my PB. Looking at the results there were some smoking fast times for an age-group only event, but I was stoked with a sub 4:30 on a challenging course.

Even more impressive, Kevin smashed his first half finishing 4th in his age group in 5:17. Kevin is a legend of the 60-64 category in short course and I've been hinting to him for a couple years now that he should give long course a go. So I was pretty fired up to see him slug it out on a tough and hot course and finish strong. Not to mention Brian also nailed down a solid PB and the 20-strong contingent of LPCers took the Division V Club crown! All in all, a pretty awesome day.

Muskoka turned out to be everything I could have asked for six weeks out from Tremblant. I learned some valuable lessons after taking a few more risks than I typically would in a half. I am also confident now that I can run even faster since that run was FAR from perfect, so I'll look forward to having another crack at that next season. So overall a few things to iron out over the next couple weeks but it looks like everything is on track for an epic day on August 19th.