Running with the Ghouls

The pumpkins were carved. The fog machine and the graveyard were up and running. The candy bowl was out and ready for trick-or-treaters. It was time to go out and run with the ghouls. 

I strapped on the headlamp and backlight and headed out. Running in the dark presents it’s own set of challenges. Although a headlamp provides light it also changes the surroundings and adds an eerie sense to the landscape. How appropriate then that my first run in the dark since last spring would occur on Halloween. 

Because it was dark all my senses were heightened a bit. This heightened awareness only served to fill the void of darkness with all sorts of creepy and spooky scenarios. 

By day, Tetherow, the area where I would run, has sweeping vistas to the south and to the west. At night, however, it became a narrowly lit corridor where shadows crept by and hosted a wide variety of possible terrors. Running alone during the day provides a sense of freedom. At night however, there was a sense of vulnerability and an increasingly unnerving feeling of being exposed and all alone. The throaty howl of a coyote in the distance or the furious scuttling of a rodent in the nearby bushes beyond the dim light became more pronounced and my mind began to visualize all sorts of morbid and creepy possibilities. 

The bouncing light as I ran highlighted the crystal-like vapors exhaling from my mouth and added a mysterious gloom that felt clammy and death-like against my face. The headlights of a passing car threw creepy running shadows like a pack of zombies chasing me across an alien landscape. 

I reached the halfway point in my run and turned to head home. I always tend to run the second part of my run a bit faster, particularly if it’s an out and back type of run. Tonight, with all the thoughts of ghouls and goblins in my head perhaps I ran even quicker. I knew the shadows writhing around me weren’t really scary things, but a slight breeze moaned across the landscape and I decided it was best to not wait around and find out. 

I continued on my run and as I drew closer to town the imaginary shadows and frightful scenarios that I had imagined for my Halloween run began to dissipate. As I sprinted into my neighborhood I passed by spooky decorated homes and weaved through goblins and ghouls out trick-or-treating with their adult keepers.

I slowed to a walk and came up the cul-de-sac to my house. The lights were on, the graveyard, lit, and the fog machine was working overtime. What surprised me though was the fact that our front porch light was off. I walked up the path to my front door and paused at the stairs to stretch out my hips. I turned off my headlamp and slowly walked up the darkened stairs thinking about my nighttime run, knowing I would undertake so many more of these darkened runs in the coming months. I was lost in my thoughts when a figure rose in front of me and shrieked out a loud, “Boo!”, that gave me a momentary fright. It was my 

daughter all dressed up and lying in wait to scare the trick-or-treaters. After I regained my composure I laughed out loud and congratulated my daughter on her scare. For all of the scary things I could have imagined on that Halloween run, the one that truly frightened me came at my own front door.

Feeding the Spirit

I feel most spiritual when I’m out in the woods. I feel part of nature.

                                                                                                          Pete Seeger

Sunday morning I went to church for a little bit of spiritual renewal. It wasn’t enclosed and there weren’t any other parishioners, save for Riley, who I met at the trailhead. I was going to church in the forest and instead of my Sunday best I was sporting my thermal bib kit. After a week of running I was happy to be out on my mountain bike heading toward Phil’s Trail.

Years ago I gave up trying to find spiritual growth inside a building on a Sunday morn – turned off by the politics and the hypocracy of organized religion. I found my spiritual solace and affirmation in forays to the river to fish or to the trails where I could enjoy nature on my mountain bike as I rode through the forest. The sights and sounds of nature served to re-confirm my belief in a higher authority without the baggage.

The air was brisk with a hint of moisture. The unusual high winds from the previous day were long gone. A faint blanket of new snow graced the foothills above. The trails would be tacky – not too muddy, but enough moisture that the tires would hold through the turns. It was an absolutely perfect day to go out on the mountain bike for a fun and easy ride.

Jaime had emphasized that my rides needed to be easy. I followed the course and resolved that I would just enjoy the ride, not press things, and have a good time. Riley and I briefly discussed where we’d ride and then we set off into the sunlight. I could feel a slight drizzle hit me. Oregon is the only place I know where the sun can be shining, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and yet you’re still getting rained upon. Weaving through the trails brought a sense of appreciation and a chance to reflect. We chatted a bit in areas where the trail opened up onto an old logging road, but for the most part we simply rode. Every so often I would catch a glimpse of a beautiful vista and would make a little mental thank you note for that visual opportunity. Up and down the hills we went, passing very few people. There were a couple of challenging traverses up rocky passages and also a few thrilling descents with technical drops but mostly it was just choice single-track weaving through Manzanita and Ponderosa Pine.

I ended my ride as I always try and do when I go to Phil’s with a ride through the rolling hills of Tetherow. The forest opens up into a rolling meadow, that offer vistas to the east of the Paulinas as well as Powell Butte, the Ochocos, and the Oregon Outback. It’s a nice transition from the trails of the forest, where you can easily get turned around, to the wide-open vistas just before you come back into town. Riley had a longer ride so we fist bumped, parted company, and I headed home. 

Even though it was an easy ride I flew home on my Niner, energized from a chance to be outside and enjoy the beauty of the world around me. I knew that I’d have a week full of runs but for the here and now I was thankful for the opportunity to get out in the forest, renew my spirit on the mountain bike, and appreciate the time I had enjoying life.

Pump Up the Volume

My coach Jaime deserves better. 

I’m sure he probably feels that way after the past two weeks.

We’ve begun training for my Ironman in earnest. I came off my last race feeling really good and champing at the bit to keep it going. Jaime has spent the better part of the past two weeks pulling back on the bridle and trying to keep me from blowing up. Much like a young colt, I have not responded well to the guidance and have kicked my back hooves a couple of time and put my ears
back. It’s taken me the better part of two weeks to finally understand what it all means.

It’s all about the volume, stupid.

Years and years ago I had another coach who, among other things, made the comment to the effect that I would never be an athlete and never amount to anything. It’s a comment that has haunted me for years. With my new found confidence I have perhaps developed a bit of a chip on my shoulder.

When Jaime would try to rein me in I would push back. When he’d try and explain that different athletes (including himself) needed different training I’d just see it as another example of me not being good enough. When I was relegated to runs while Jaime and other teammates swam and biked together I became resentful.

Like I said, he probably deserves better.

Much like a horse that finally accepts the saddle and stops using up energy mindlessly bucking at unseen ghosts I finally came to terms with things. I realized I frankly needed to stop thinking, stop worrying, trust in the plan, and just take a long deep breath.

It didn’t come easily. After Jaime and I agreed on Ironman Coeur d’Alene the first task he had assigned me was to find a marathon. Once that was done the training began. I’m not sure what I thought would occur. Part of me knew I was training for a marathon but the other part of me was still focused in on Ironman and the swim and bike that would come with that. I kept watching my run volume numbers rise and my swim and bike volume numbers plummet. I’d spent all summer working on getting stronger on the bike that I wasn’t willing to watch it waste away. Jaime kept telling me that my bike would come back up after our camp in February and that I would come back stronger but I just had a hard time believing what he was saying.

I’m not sure when it finally began to make sense. Maybe something about volume – I remember back when my daughter was young she’d have a problem with pouring liquids into a cup. It took her awhile to understand that eventually the cup would completely fill, you couldn’t get anymore in, and it would start to overflow, run everywhere, and that everything would become one big mess.

As part of my training I was undertaking a marathon. Even though I had run

several half marathons I would need to bring up my running volume in order to be successful in completing a marathon and then transferring that run fitness to an Ironman. Between work, family, other commitments, and training, I only have a finite time within which to work in getting ready for the Ironman. Coeur d’Alene comes in late June so the majority of my training would take place in the late spring when I’d still be working full-time. Jaime said he’d get me to CDA but it would take some unorthodox means and it would mean making the most of the training I had. There was only so much volume I could undertake so it would be essential to get the biggest training bang for the buck so to speak. I remembered that Jaime had written back in a blog when he and his family went to Hawai’I in which he puzzled the benefits of focused training in one specific area. He told me over and again that we’d focus on the run,undertake a marathon, and then start bringing up the volume in the swim and the bike. As my volume would have to increase with the run it meant that either something else would have to be reduced or I’d more than likely blow up or become fatigued, injured, ill, or all of the above. Essentially, there was a point where I could no longer take the volume and if it went over I’d be reduced to one big mess.

It’s a tricky balancing act but for now I’ll have to trust in what Jaime has been telling me and understand that it’s all about volume. In the past my training has ranged from 10 to 18 hours a week. That will more than likely stay the same and will no doubt increase as I get nearer to racing at CDA. None of my runs will be under an hour and my long runs will increase in time, most going over two hours. There will be hill workouts and pyramids, but there will also be a lot of time spent simply building up the volume and putting in the hours.

I had conversation with Jaime today. I simply asked him about the bike and whether or not my fitness would return. He told me it would take awhile to come back but that it would come back stronger. As with weight lifters all the gains would come out of recovery and to have faith in my body. He noted that my fitness had allowed me to be able to ride and feel good these past few weeks but that I now needed to focus on the marathon. I needed to make each run the best it could be and understand that it was a big part of the preparation for CDA.

It’s all about the volume. I’m sure Jaime and I will have this chat again in March when my bike volume numbers start to increase. Like I said, he probably deserves better 

Vacation

I need a vacation, like nobody’s business.

                                                   Jim Wann

Two weeks ago I finished the Leadman, my last race of the year. Since then I

have kinda of been taking a vacation from training. Well, I guess I should say,

I’ve been taking a break from the monitoring of my training.

The Tuesday after the race Jaime and I met up to discuss the coming year. We

decided that October 6th would be my start date for Ironman Training.

Specifically, I’d be training for a marathon prior to working the bike and the swim

back into the equation on an equal rotation. He had told me to look for a

marathon earlier when I decided to go after the Ironman brass ring. The race

needed to be in January and I was able to locate one in Redding, California, just

under 5 hours away. It would be held over Martin Luther King weekend so I

wouldn’t need to take time off.

The A (or perhaps Super A) race for the year would be Ironman Coeur d’Alene. I

picked this race because it would occur in June. I knew that July would be taken

up with a trip to New Mexico for my folks 70th Wedding Anniversary. I knew that

this would prove challenging but I didn’t want to have to worry about a race while

I was in New Mexico (such as racing Whistler, another race I had eyed).

February would involve Jaime’s triathlon camp in Tucson and then March and

April would be where my bike training would dramatically increase. In the past I

had done the Beaver Freezer over in Corvallis the first weekend in April but

Jaime put the kibosh on a sprint race. My first race would be an Olympic

distance so I imagine I’ll look at the Oregon Dunes over in Florence. He talked

about wanting me to do the Boise 70.3 and using it as a training race. We’ll use

the time between Oregon Dunes and Boise to see how the body is feeling. My

focus will be Coeur d’Alene and once that is done we’ll regroup and look to finish

out the race year, more than likely with the 70.3 in Lake Stevens and then finish

up with Best in the West and hopefully with the Leadman.

My calendar set. It was time to have a little fun. Jaime had told me that my

workouts for the week after Leadman were optional. I tried my best to stay with

the workout though I made some adjustments. I decided that rather than worry

about pace or heart rate I would just go out and either ride or run. I’m not sure if

that was probably what Jaime had in mind but it was a nice bit of release. A

week following Leadman my wife and I met up with some fellow Bendites at the

north entrance to Crater Lake to ride the road around the lake. The following day

I met up with Jaime and Riley to ride the Twin Bridges route. It was a great

weekend and I found it to be thoroughly enjoyable. This past week was run

heavy but I did find some time to sneak off to the pool to swim in the

unseasonably warm weather. I capped off my vacation with a 30-mile mountain

bike ride with Jaime and Riley. I came away from my vacation refreshed,

recharged, and rebooted.

It’s time to get back in the saddle so to speak. I know the journey ahead will be

long, tough, and at times, lonely. For now it will be building up the volume to

successfully run a marathon. From there, the bike and swim will increase in

volume as well. I’m excited about the prospects. Whether or not I’ll be feeling

that way in May or June will remain to be seen. For now it’s the excitement in

going after something new and unknown. For many, the excitement is the build

up to the vacation. For me, it’s the buildup to the Ironman. Let the journey

begin.

Leadman

The bus rumbled up the hill past Bachelor as the sun began to streak across the

upper hillsides of patchy snow. Everything seemed so familiar, right down to my

partner needing to use the bathroom and squirming through the last couple of

miles of our journey to Cultus Lake.

It was the Leadman Tri and it was my last race of the season. Everything

pointed to perhaps it being the last Leadman to be held here in Bend. If that is

the case it will be a shame because it’s a great race in a beautiful setting. All

year long each race had been filled with the unknown. Even the Beaver Freezer

and Deschutes Dash had their new elements be it a different pool or a different

distance. The Leadman though was familiar like an old shoe.

We arrived at Cultus and Wendy, my companion scrambled for the exit much as

her roommate Justin had done the previous year. We unloaded and made our

way to the transition area. Last year it had been cold and wet and the chilliness

of the lake had actually been a welcome relief from the ambient air temperature.

This year it was clear though it was still chilly.

I got everything organized and got my wetsuit on and made my way to the boat

launch where the swimmers were gathering. It was disappointing to see a

smaller turnout than the previous year – at least that is how it seemed. As the

group before us went off my group began to make their way out to buoy to begin

the swim. It seemed further but the water also seemed warmer and clearer –

perhaps due to the sunlight.

The gun went off and I began to swim hard. Perhaps I went out a bit too hard as

I noted that things were tightening up a bit. I remembered that Jaime had written

in my notes of avoiding just such a thing and so I did a mental reboot and slowed

my pace. After going past a couple of buoys and got into a pace that would be

manageable throughout the rest of the race. I rounded the final buoy and

mentally reminded myself that I had the swim in the bag. I made my way back

toward the shore. The sun was now completely up and it made for some

interesting sighting issues as we were swimming directly into its glare. I turned

into the boat launch area and thought to myself that I could have kept going.

Perhaps I could have gone harder, but in a year when I finally became

comfortable with the open water swim I was willing to take this swim even if I

could have gone a bit faster.

I stripped out of my wetsuit and kept things to a minimum – just the racing suit,

socks, shoes, and helmet. Last year out of the water my fingers were numb and

I struggled to get things on. This year I would be able to get out of transition in

less than half the time it took me last year. I turned the bike onto the

campground road and made my way to the highway. It was time to grab a quick

gel for nutrition. I looked down at my bike frame and realized that it getting

everything that I had forgotten to attach the gels to my frame. It would be race

that I would rely on my bottles – one full of perpetuem and the other full of water.

No losing bottles on this race.

I settled into a comfortable pace and cadence and started picking off riders one

by one. Things felt good and I was hitting at just over 20 mph. I knew that

wouldn’t last when I hit the hills so I was making the most of this part of the race.

I came up to a familiar logo and started my best Right Said Fred imitation and

serenaded Wendy with “You’re too sexy for that bike” as I passed by her. The

first hour passed and I realized that I was a third through the bike portion of the

race. The Cascade Lakes passed by, first Crane Prairie, then Lava, then Elk,

then Devil’s, and finally Sparks. The turnoff to Sparks signaled that toughest part

of the race was ready to begin – the hill from Sparks Lake up to the foot of Mount

Bachelor. I geared down and mentally got ready for the challenge. Jaime and I

worked on this part of the race two weeks prior to the race and he told me to

really make a push up the hill. I charged past others struggling up the hill and

kept mentally picking off markers as I made my way up the hill. When I rode past

the turnoff to the Westside Village I knew it was in the bag. One short climb up to

the ODOT maintenance area and then it was all downhill into Bend.

I made my way in to the transition area and heard a cheer from my wife as well

as a couple of families from the school where I teach. I quickly made my way out

of transition, through a couple of confusing turns, and ran out onto the course.

Things were feeling good and I was going at a pretty good pace. I even saw

Wendy coming down the road so I was able to serenade her one more time (she

claimed she couldn’t get the song out of her head during the race). Down Mount

Washington I ran and I was going at a pretty nice pace. I enjoyed the shade and

made my way up the first hill. The shade gave way to a blazing sun. The

previous year temperatures were in the high 50’s when I ran and it was actually

rather pleasant. This year it was sunny and the temperature was in the mid 80’s.

As I made my way up the hill on Meeks Drive I could begin to feel the heat beat

on me. I knew during the next four miles I’d be exposed to the elements and

would need to push myself hard. I made my way up the last hill and took some

comfort in the fact that I was running faster than some bikers who were struggling

up the same hill. The sun and heat began to take their toll. At the aid station

between mile 5 and 6 I actually stopped for a moment in the shade of the tent the

volunteers were using to down a flat but chilly Coke. I was determined to finish

strong and gathered up all my energy for that final push to the finish line. As I

neared the finish line I heard my friend and teammate Riley yell encouragement.

I plugged away at it and crossed the finish line almost thirty minutes faster than I

had done the previous year. I was finished and I had fun in the process. My time

was good enough for a small buckle and I relished in the fact that I had finished

the race and felt good afterwards. I wasn't passed on either the bike or the run
by other racers so I felt good about what I had done.  It was a great race and a
great feeling of accomplishment.

That night my wife and I met some old college friends on their way through Bend

as they took their son to Corvallis to begin his first year at Oregon State. We met

at LaRosa and sat in the same booth where I had sat the previous year with

Jaime, Heather, Justin, and Celeste after finishing Leadman. When we got done,

said our goodbyes, and headed outside, my wife and I could hear the announcer

recognize some runners who were still trickling in from the longer race. It was all

so familiar.

The next morning I awoke to a text from Jaime that simply said, ‘Welcome to the

off-season!” My racing season was over. It had been a good one. There is an

old saying that claims that familiarity can breed contempt. However, in this case

I have to say that familiarity bred content. I look forward to what the next racing

season has in store for me.

Waiting to Bolt Out of the Gate

The last few days fall has definitely been in the air. The mornings have been crisp and cool. The sun is coming up later and going down earlier. Yellows and reds are mixed in among the green leaves. With the preview it definitely becomes official next week when the autumnal equinox occurs.

This weekend is my last race of the year. It’s fitting as summer is moving into fall. I’m excited for the race but the end of the season brings up the unknown of what comes next. Soon the darkness will outweigh the light. My training will move from race prep to maintaining and building up my base.

A friend of mind said of Bend. “It’s a winter town where summer is an added bonus.” My coach likes to say that the race is the icing on the cake, so I guess that race season is that ‘summer bonus’. Once it is done it’s like the day after New Year’s. The moment you put the messy platter that held the tasty birthday cake in the dishwasher. The morning after you’ve finished the big race. All the build up and energy is gone and you’re left feeling as if you’re in a bit of a vacuum.

Years ago as a child I hated January. Christmas was done and winter had dug in its heels. My folks didn’t ski so at that time winter consisted of sledding and only if there was snow. It was cold, dreary, and bare.

As an adult I now see that month after the holidays as a time to regroup, redefine, reflect, recharge, and regenerate. It’s a time to plan for the upcoming year. In the next couple of weeks I hope to sit down with my coach and go through the past year and plan for the coming year. Chief among our planning concerns will be to prepare and develop a training plan for my first full Ironman next June in Coeur d’Alene.

For now though I still get to enjoy the last race of the season. This time last year I was simply trying to finish the race. Now I’m making a concerted effort to have nothing left in the tank when I cross the finish line. I’m approaching this race with confidence and excitement. I liken it to the first few seconds of a horse race where the horses and riders are loaded and everyone is waiting for the bell to ring and gates to fly open. I have all this pent up excitement and energy just waiting to get left on the course.

It’s a fitting end to what has been an eventful and interesting season. What began back in January with a foggy half-marathon in Salem will end with a long course race in September less than a mile from my home. Just like a kid running down the stairs on Christmas morning to rip open the biggest present I can’t wait to rip this race a new one. 

In Search of the PR

Sometimes it's just about throwing PR's aside and finishing a race out of commitment to the sport, or teammates or yourself. Huge pat on the back to you. For going in knowing that this would be a tough race and doing it anyway! Many others would not have shown up to the starting line!

                                                                        Sue Talent Alschuler

In triathlon circles you hear the term PR thrown around with wild abandon.  PR, or Personal Record, even becomes part of the whole race goal.  I will be the first to admit that I fell into that trap.  My goal for the Lake Stevens 70.3 was to better my time from Boise.  As my earlier blog noted, events conspired to render that goal moot.  I came away disappointed.  I felt like I’d let down myself and let down my coach.  I completely ignored the fact that I’d done the race just over a week after having a bike accident and sustaining a major injury.  But I’d also ignored something else – that each race is different.

When I got back from Seattle I went over to Jaime’s house to help him paint his basement.  Before we got started he pulled me into his office and had me look at a print out of the race I’d run in Lake Stevens.  He had crunched the numbers and the data and compared it to my race in Boise.  He went over it with me and shared some thoughts that I had maybe not considered. 

Two things he shared with me gave me cause to be upbeat about the race.  He noted that my Normalized Power for the race at Lake Stevens had been 210.  Normalized power basically takes into account everything on the racecourse, hills, descents, and flat segments and comes up with a power average.  Basically, this is the amount of power you’d be able to constantly maintain over the course of a workout (or in this case, a race).  Earlier in the year when I raced Boise Jaime had me shoot for a constant power level of around 170.  It may be hard to understand but I will train at a certain power level but then race at a certain heart rate.  This is to keep me from essentially using up all my energy and ‘bonking’.  At Lake Stevens my Normalized Power was a 210.  Mentally this was a big boost as I remember training sessions during the winter where intervals at that level of power would cause my legs to liquefy after three or four sets.  He also noted that my VI, or Variability Index was a 1.21.  The Variability Index is essentially Normalized Power divided by Average Power and basically gives an indication of the smoothness of the ride (not the road, the rider).  You’re trying to get as close to 1.0 as possible.  Hilly courses make for a higher number.  The hills along with some places where I was essentially trapped behind slow moving cars waiting to pass around a slow going rider up a hill made for a potentially high number.  Jaime was pleased with the number and noted that most athletes, let along an average age-grouper such as myself would be happy with that number.

Once we went over the numbers he referenced back to a major variable that differentiated the two races.  In Boise, there had been 1800 feet of elevation gain on the bike course, the majority of the climbing came within the first five miles of the race.  All of the major climbing was done prior to the turn around.  At Lake Stevens there was 2800 feet of elevation gain, the majority of which came in the last 20 miles of the race.  Most of Lake Stevens bike course was what could be considered ‘rollers’ – lots of up, followed by equal down.  Interestingly enough there were a lot of corners in Lake Stevens – 90 degree turns where you would have to slow down – usually on a descent, make the turn, and then immediately start climbing again.  This was vastly different from Boise, where the turns were fewer and flatter.  Most of the race in Boise had roads blocked off so there was little if any traffic with which to contend.  Lake Stevens on the other hand was an open course and there were several instances on some of the hills where I was basically trying to stay upright as I stayed on the bumper of a slow moving vehicle that was waiting to pass an equally slow bike.  All in all, a slower bike time of 5 minutes wasn’t that much to be disappointed about given the data or the conditions.

The run in Boise looped along the DesBois River trail and had an elevation gain 69 feet.  In Lake Stevens the run also looped but there was an elevation gain of 724 feet.  One hill at Lake Stevens in particularly was long and gradual and occurred right before the turn around.  Jaime himself admitted that he seriously questioned his sanity when he knew he’d have to run up that hill again.  Psychologically, the hill took it’s toll on many of the runners and I lost count of how many racers I saw walking up that hill as I made my way back down to the finish.  Given the elevation change, in addition to my left hip and my right foot hurting, a slower time of six minutes wasn’t something to be ashamed of by any means.

Interestingly enough, although my power numbers in Lake Stevens were higher my average heart rate was actually lower, by three beats per minute.  One thing that Jaime has tried to drill into my head is that my heart rate zone numbers will remain the same.  Where I will see the change is in increased power at the same heart rate.  As I noted, earlier in the year, I struggled to maintain a power level of 210 for any extended amount of time.  The fact that my Normalized Power was at 120 for the race showed me that I was improving even if my time didn’t necessarily say so to the rest of the world.

Once we concluded looking at the numbers Jaime noted something that I had failed to consider in my quest for a PR.  He told me that each race is different and it’s impossible to compare one to another.  Each course is different as well, as was noted in the almost 1700 feet of elevation gain from Lake Stevens to Boise.  Races are run at different altitudes.  Coming from 4000 feet at Bend to almost sea level at Lake Stevens was a bonus, which wasn’t as noticeable at Boise, which sits at 2,700 feet above sea level.  Even if a race is run over the same course from year to year it doesn’t mean you’ll have the same conditions.  Two years ago in Boise it was snowing and this year the temperature was in the mid-80’s.  You may go into a race feeling differently.  In Boise I was pretty close to 100 percent.  At Lake Stevens I was working my way through an injury that was just over a week old.  Coupled with all of this is the ‘shit happens’ factor, be it a wrong turn, a flat tire, or a broken derailleur.  All can contribute to a busted PR and all can happen without warning.

After my conversation with Jaime I realized that I need to rethink how I approach each race.  This year I’ll be doing the Leadman for the second time, and sure, I hope to lower my race time from last year.  However, as Sue noted so eloquently, sometimes you race out of commitment to the sport, your teammates, and perhaps, most importantly to race out of commitment to oneself and to the time put into training for that race.  If I come out of a race knowing that I gave the best effort I could at that point in time and in that situation then I shouldn’t worry about whether or not I accomplished a PR.  I should be happy in the fact that I am able to compete and push myself to give my best effort.