Kilimanjaro and the Roof of Africa

How to make climbing Kili harder:
1) Have surgery on your eye the morning you depart
2) Go to work after that
3) Fly over night
4) Do the hardest route
5) Carry your own 35lb pack instead of having a porter do it
6) Have a hole in your air mattress so you sleep on rocks

A small cist on my eyelid had to go so I started my trip with some surgery. Pulse rate on the table = 40bpm and went to 46bpm when they cut open my lid. Got dressed and went to work. Finished that and went to the airport for an 11:50pm flight. Worst flight ever! I sat in the middle seat with the guy on my left a loud talker (and a spitter) and the guy on my right stank. These two became buddies and talked across me, even high fiving each other at some points in front of my face. When I hunched over my meal to keep saliva out of it, they talked on my back. They each had 4 beers (not to mention whatever they had before getting on the plane) and stayed up all night. I just wanted to rest. After 3 hours I just crawled over them to another row. Landing at 4:40am was no better; a mad dash for visas that are processed randomly. Then you go outside to wait in a long line only to go back inside through security. Get your pass and then upstairs to, you guessed it, security. I sat in the airport, caught the flight to Moshi. It was excellent seeing the summit of Kili above where we were flying.

The first look

In the down time at my hotel, I met my guide, Silvano. We got along well until he told me to pack my day pack with camera and water and the porters would carry the rest. I told him no, I would be carrying, and he was skeptical. But I won (because I am the client).

How I knew my route was harder than the others
1) When asked which route I am doing and I respond “Umbwe”, people wince.
2) I took a Land Rover to the trailhead; others took a bus
3) I was the only one to sign in for my route that day; other routes can see 25 per day.

The first day was about 8k of hiking and an elevation gain of 1,000m. My boxed lunch eaten, gear sorted, and porters already on the hump, I shouldered my pack. Immediately it started to rain. We slogged uphill in a river of water for several hours. My pancho could not cover my bag and me so I opted for the bag, figuring if it were dry then I would be dry, eventually. My guide kept saying “pole, pole” (pronounced polly polly meaning ‘slowly, slowly’ in Swahili. At first, I thought it was super slow, but by the end of the day, I realized that it made it possible to hike forever. Muddy and soaked to the bone, 4 ½ hours later we got to camp and ate.

Camp 1 (2940m)

That night we slept at 2900m, and it was the darkest I have ever known. There was no light. I could make out nothing in my tent – no shapes, no color; with no light within miles and a cloudy sky it was something to value.

The route

Camp 2 in the cloud (3900m)

The next day was the “short day.” The exciting part was a Class 5 scramble up about 50ft of wall. With the heavy packs it was pretty sketchy, and the route was bolted for people to be roped up. There was a longer way around, but this was an adventure. The porters waited at the top to see me make it (or watch me fall, if that were the case). 4+ hours of hiking up a very steep section of trail was miserable. The rain started toward the end and I resumed my usual state of dampness. I suppose I was irritated that it wasn’t faster. Our camp was stuck in a cloud on a barren plateau. I was not impressed. People would roll in every 15 min or so yelling for their team in the fog. Barranco Camp sat 1,100m above the first camp and 8k away. It wasn’t short.

On the third day, I awoke to a much better view. What was socked in a cloud to my right was now a long view to the valley below. To my left, a beautiful peak with the summit beyond. In front, Barranco Wall, a large slab of rock that was our route.

 
Once clearing the wall (again, an exciting scramble), there was a lot of hiking along the valley floor. We hit Karranga Camp after about 2 ½ hours of hiking. But we would not camp because it was only a couple of hundred meters higher than the previous camp.

 

After lunch, we kept going up to the Barafu camp making it a 6 hour day. All in all, we did about 15km and gained about 700m. I was feeling very strong and seemed to only be doing better as we climbed. Altitude was not a factor and I was getting better at carrying my heavy pack. Still, I was glad to be done. But rest was short. It was summit night.

Dinner in high camp (summit beyond glacier)

High Camp (4600m)

The summit was beyond our view but we did have a nice glimpse of the glacier on top. Dinner and some rest; I can’t say sleep. At 11:30pm you drink your tea and dress up for the midnight departure. I was very warm early on and had to take off my hat and gloves while most everyone I passed was sewn up in Gore-Tex. Even though I started later than many others, soon I was leading the pack up the mountain. Things were good for a couple of hours as we went pole, pole. The trail of headlamps behind me was nearly as beautiful as the stars in the sky. At that altitude, many miles from civilization, we could see a mix of galaxies and planets that painted the black canvas of the sky. I moved well for 2 hours, and then, suddenly, things went bad.

My head was spinning, my stomach sour. Was it the altitude? I had performed well up till now. Was it my calories? I only had a protein bar for “breakfast.” For the next 2 hours I slogged behind Silvano, placing one foot in front of the other, never looking up. Every step sucked and I struggled significantly. We pushed up the steep wall to Stella Point (5700m) and things started to get better. Stella is essentially the top as there is only a gentle summit ridge remaining.

Sunrise from the Roof of Africa

We rolled on up the ridge. The summit was 400m away. Then 300m. Suddenly I was sitting on a rock, wishing my life was over. People started passing me, which had not happened all climb. I was no longer first; in fact, now I was yelling at Silvano for toilet paper and he threw me some baby wipes. Well equipped, I squatted amongst the rocks. I can’t tell you what came out because it rolled down the mountain and out of sight. Instantly, my life was better. Within a few minutes, I was on the summit! Uhuru Peak, 5895m, 5:35am!

My stay at the Top of Africa was brief. In order to wipe my tukus, I had to take off my glove. Now my hand was frozen solid. A few pictures were snapped and we bolted back down to Stella Point as the magnificently orange African sun was on the rise. Unfortunately, the next 90 min were torturous scree-gully descents with me sliding, falling, and skidding back down the mountain. The sun was now up and I was started to soak with the layers of clothing on. At 7:45am I crash landed in my tent at high camp. I had a little over an hour to eat breakfast, pack my gear, and get my body to stop hating me. Then we were off.

Death in high camp post climb

Down, down, down we walked, quickly but still with a lot of weight. I had to carry water, my gear, and I didn’t eat any of the snacks I brought because the meals were so large. My pack weighed about the same as it did when I left. Silvano paid me props by telling me he thought I would do the first day and give up my pack. Then he said he thought there was no way I would keep it after the second day. He said he had never had a client carry all their own stuff before. I told him I wouldn’t do it any other way. Carrying weight makes it hard and hence better training and simulates future climbs. We stopped in the Millennium Camp for a $4 Coke (which I bought for Silvano since the average Tanzania lives on about $3/day) and continued down to Mweka Hut (3100m), the last camp on the route. Although only a couple hours from the gate, we stopped. It had been a long day and it was going to cost me about $55/night extra for every day I got off the mountain early, so one day faster was enough. I got there from high camp in 2.5 hours, a route that normally takes 4 for the solid guy. I laid around, ate, and slept.

Last camp, Mweka Hut (3100m)

A coke and a smile with Silvano, my guide

And then I paid for it. Climbing with weight, summiting, and bolting down the mountain with weight so quickly caught up with me. I felt like I had just finished an ultramarathon. My quads were shot, and my legs screamed with every step. Within minutes of our departure I was dripping in sweat and near tears with pain. Everyone went past me, and not just porters. Finally, when two German women (one of them….older) went by, I told Silvano enough was enough. He reassured me that the pace was good and that I was the only one carrying all my gear, but I had had it. We picked up the pace; it hurt like hell anyway so why not get down. I gritted my teeth and pushed on, and soon we reached a road. From there, I even jogged a bit and was to the gate 2 hours after starting. After signing out and jumping in the Land Rover, my time on the mountain was done.

Overall, my experience was interesting. The route was not difficult as technical climbing can be, but it was not easy. I made a challenge for myself and it was worth it. One of the interesting finds was that from the pictures, Kili looks like a flat hill. In fact, it was miles of jagged peaks and dozens of valleys. Even the summit was a rounded mass distinct from the rest of the peak. The mountain was very beautiful and extremely well maintained. The trails were well groomed and the camps cleared (of course not without its garbage). It carries my recommendation for pretty much anyone to hit up – from those looking for some adventure straight from the job to a serious climber needed one of the seven summits. Holds a little something for everyone. And now my appetite is whet for something bigger…

Four Races in Five Weeks

You know how to train? Race 4 times in 5 weeks. It will do it. Coming off the Soweto Marathon and the triathlon, I rolled into the Momentum 94.7 Cycle Challenge. Last year I was hurting for the ride. This year, we were better off. Because I was seeded, I started at 7:03 in the morning, hours earlier than last year. Plus, it was cooler and overcast. Whereas last year I struggled up every hill, bonked hard, and cramped over and over. This year, I cruised in my group, moved to the front by halfway, and blasted up the long hills that killed me last year. When I hit the highway, I rode in a large peloton doing no damage to my legs. I stopped near the end of the road to pee and get drinks. So from 20k out, I rode alone trying to hammer back to where I was. I caught rider after rider and sprinted to the finish. I finished 8th in my wave of 500, and in under 3 hours for the 61 mile effort. I was very pleased…the perfect ride.

With three races in three weeks done, it was fitting that Thanksgiving was a week off. A few rides and a couple of hour-long runs and I can’t say I rested. So why not come out for another race? The BSG Energade Sprint Triathlon was a good place to start. The swim was only 600m but it was in a river with a current. While I can’t say I tore it up, something happened that rarely does for me in the swim; I passed people! Of course, I was in the 30-50 age group. My transition to the bike was quick.

On the first few hundred yards of the ride, I sailed past people. Then a couple of guys came up and we packed up. It was a draft legal race, which means we could ride close together to reduce the wind. We took turns pulling at the front, with me directing the pacing. A group of 4 of us dropped rider after rider. I hopped off the bike with another fast transition.

My run was flawless. I scooped up runner after runner, 32 in all over the 5K course. No one passed me. I logged the 11th fastest run but I question my split (I had 50 seconds faster on my watch, would have put me as the 5th or so fastest). I was 22nd overall, not including the elites. It was great practice for transitions and open water. 1:06:55.

I threw in another 2K time trial in the pool and banked a 36:34, my fastest yet. That equates to about a 1:09:30 Ironman swim, so I am happy with that. With drafting, a wetsuit, and no turns to make, I am hoping this is an indicator of getting closer to my goal.

I am off to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro, go on safari, and hit the beaches of Zanzibar. Training will take a hit – will be non-existent – for two weeks, but when I come back it is great training and diet for the month of January. Plus, a little surprise thrown into the mix.

Training from Aug 1-Dec 11

	Distance	Cumulative Distance	Time	Cumulative Time
Swim	4000m	43900m	1:35:00	19:44:57
Bike	60.6mi	848.8mi	3:31:13	49:23:24
Run	25.7mi	380.4mi	3:35:25	52:46:37
Core	N/A	N/A	1:00:00	12:15:00
Lift	N/A	N/A	0	5:45:00

Africa's Toughest Triathlon

Or, the race that never happened.


When all is said and done, the history books will be written, but I won’t be in them. My second race in two weeks (there would eventually be 4 races in 5 weeks) went very well but no one will ever know. Because when anyone goes to look me up, they won’t find anything.

Backtrack several days: It is hot, smoldering, and my whole family is with me. We shot up to Pilanesberg, this time not too look for animals but to stay close to the start of the race at Sun City. The parking lot was full but the start line was a 2-mile-ride away. Once in transition, I looked left and right, only to see that no one had on a wetsuit. Hmm. This was news to me. So I kept mine in the bag and set up my transitions, shocked at how many of these little routines were unfamiliar to me. After all, it was my first triathlon in exactly 7 years.

My swim was atrocious. From the start, I was kicked, punched, and pushed under. Each time I came up for a breath of fresh air, I swallow a pint of lake water. Saying a silent prayer to survive this swim and not get giardia, I swam wide of the first buoy to stay out of trouble. This caused me to be a bit too wide and by the time I made the final turn, I was content to just draft behind people on the way in. Stomach full of water, I lost all motivation to dig deep. I cleared the water in about 25+ minutes which I considered decent considering my lack of effort and getting ripped by a ton of people.

I was in and out of transition surprisingly quickly. What was not so fast was the mount line for the bike was about 700m from the transition zone, and up a huge hill. It turned out that my decision to have my shoes already attached to my bike (rather than putting them on in transition) was a good one. I shot past people attempting to run up a brick path, pushing their bike, in bike shoes with cleats on them. Most walked. Finally, the summit crested and the long decent of the first hill (at 36mph) behind me, I turned on the open road and began the cycle leg for real. A stiff headwind hit me in both directions on the out and back course (how is that possible?!?!). The course likened to Kona, Hawaii as the terrain was rolling, the landscape barren, and the wind heavy with heat. I blew past some better swimmers and was also passed by a few people on some sleek tri bikes. At the end of the first loop, we had a 2K climb up a long hill that again had some walking their bikes before shooting down again for the second loop. The second loop wasn’t as fast but still solid. Again the long climb to the top capped off by the dismount and 700m run down the hill to transition again. My average of about 20.8mph was seriously lowered by the long runs in and out of the zone but all in all, a 1:08:30 for 25 mile bike was great.

My transition was great despite not having zip laces yet. On the jog I immediately was sweeping up loads of runners. I caught nearly 40 in the first 2K. But the course was very hilly and soon things got very spread out. A runner I caught early on teamed with me to roll through the halfway point of the race. My goal was to make 7K and see what happened. I did and things got tough. The next 2K was uphill in stagnant, jungle air. My life ground to a halt. I crawled through the last couple of K and after several minutes into the final K I started counting down the steps. Since the last K took about 9 min, I would say it was mismarked. It hurt and I collapsed at the finish, content to lay there for several minutes before reuniting with the family. The bike down to the car and walk back up for breakfast was torture. But I survived.

So all in all, I had a decent swim pace for me, a solid bike, good transitions, and overall a great run (a run that was slower than I would have liked but faster than much of the field). In unofficial results I had the 9th fastest run for men.  But due to a timing error, none of it is available. I will never be able to see what place I was in during each event or how many people I caught.  It is lost in the African wind. But a hugely solid performance for November in the midst of other racing. I am stoked.

Soweto Round 2

My intention was to include the 2011 Soweto Marathon in a longer blog of a month full of races. But this event was just too bizarre to exclude from its own write up.

After parking and peeing in the trees, just like last year, I got into the corrals, which were back loaded. I inched toward the start line and found myself pinched off to the left between the fence and road. Literally, I was standing in a rock garden. To my left, a fence. To the right, a road. Ahead of me, a tent and wall for the announcers. All around me, well, people, but intermixed within the sea of humanity where cacti. Many, many cacti, about 3 feet off the ground, and sharp. I looked all around, and no one else seemed perplexed by this. My mind jumped ahead 5 minutes to when the gun would go off and I saw myself plowed face first into this spiny monster. Just as I started to push and inch my way toward the road, the gun went off. Amazing, the first time overseas a race starts on time.

Since I am writing this, you can be sure I was not the victim of a deadly cactus accident, but within feet of crossing the starting line, I was tested with even more challenging obstacles. Because of the grotesque amount of questionably intelligent people who toe the line of a marathon only to walk the moment the gun sounds, I was forced to run on the median, which was cobbled brick and, really, more cacti. To add insult to injury, people had lined up in the wrong corral (10k’ers in the marathon corral and vice versa) and were now making a mad dash across the median, and across my path. Now, this would be semi-acceptable if the openings to the start line didn’t have big signs indicating which way people should head.

Once out of the mayhem of rocks and criss-crossing idiots, I pulled over for a quick pee. After all, I had taken about 3 minutes to cover the first quarter mile so now was as good as any for a break. Ankle rolls, being cut off, and jumping over 3-foot-deep channels of water runoff, I rejoined the road. Now, I am not kidding when I say this: I am nearly a mile into the race and the crowd parts ahead of me to reveal five bovine-like creatures coming straight at me. When I ran with the bulls in Pamplona I wasn’t as intimidated as this. How these large ladies managed to get this far down the road 1) ahead of me (even with the poor start and pee break) and 2) without realizing that they were supposed to be in the 10K (which was headed the other direction) was beyond me. I yelled. “Jesus Christ!” and leapt to the side of the road, into another rock garden, and into a tree. They mooed in response and the race went on.

I can’t stress enough how funny I find the water stations here. Again, they use sachets of water sealed in these plastic baggie-like things. But they are easily dropped by the volunteers when handing to runners. So each time you go through a water station the sachets end up on the ground. When they get stepped on, 8 oz. of water explode into the air, soaking the victim’s feet and showering others with liquid. D-day comes every few miles as it is like the beaches of Normandy which these bombs going off.

The highlight of my race was running a good portion of it with Lindsay Anne van Aswegen, 3rd at the recent IAAF 100km World Championships. Ironically, Andrew Henshaw, a guy I had run with in Colorado, finished 3rd for the men in the same race. It was almost a sign.

Despite the excitement and chaos, it was a really hard race. I would have to say it was one of the easier first halves – mostly downhill. I clicked off 5k splits around 21:00. But after a first half in 1:32:30 (and staying totally slow having run 3:07 here last year), it got tough. A combination of 11-30 miles per week of running going in with monster hills, rising heat, and a very casual approach to the day just about killed me. I lost interest, slowed to about 23:00-24:00 per 5K and luckily, hooked up with some guys who wanted a sub-3:20. I shine with I have people to pull to the line. So I backed them off on hills, held pace through water stations, and dragged two guys to the line in just over 3:16. This race is painful and not for greenhorns. But I made it, and kicked off my month of Sundays – Marathon, Olympic-distance Triathlon, and then the 100k bike ride. I toyed with a long ride over Thanksgiving, but at this point, I’ll be ready for a rest.

Scares on the African Highveld

Let me tell you about my ride. I roll down the first street, and within 3 miles from home I come to a stop light. I roll through and along comes a taxi cab on my right. Soon he is drifting left and I lock up the brakes, skidding all the while. Slowly the cab drops off the edge of the road into the shoulder. I am leaning like a cycle sprinter into the cab as it drags me off the road into the ditch. After glaring, I ride on.

Rolling past the Lion Park, I catch a glimpse of giraffe, ostrich, and zebra. My fun soon ends when I turn on the highway that is two lanes and a 3-foot drop off from asphalt to dirt. A semi roars up, honking at me. I scoot over. He honks. I ride the edge. He honks. I pray. He honks and blasts by, never moving over an inch, despite no oncoming cars and a whole road to work with. After swearing, I ride on.

By now my neck is getting sore. I put my chin to my chest to stretch out. It is a welcome relief. But riding like this is not very smart so my head lifts back to the more common position. When it returns upright, there is a large SUV in my lane, going about 65mph, and not more than a few yards away. The jackass just had to pass these cars in front of him and cared very little about who might be in the way. Panic sets in I yank the wheel left, sailing into space before landing in the dirt shoulder, thankfully without blowing a tire. My hatred and curses fly in the wind back toward a yuppie that will never hear them. Even more fortunately, after surveying the land ahead and behind me, I realize I have landed on the only 10 feet of rural South African shoulder that isn’t filled with large dirt mounds or raging canals of runoff. The adrenalin fades, feet clip back in, and I ride on.

Thus completes my 50 mile ride.

Several days prior to the ride, I did a time trial at the running club. After 2.8 miles there, I set out in front by more than a couple minutes. Running solo I held a decent pace for 4K. Then I really tired. The end was not impressive. But I crossed in 19:05 on a course that is so hilly I say it is worth 15-20 seconds over 5K. Then I jogged 2.8 miles home. It was a very good result for the time of year, total lack of intensity, and the miles per week (12-30) I have been doing. Two days later, I finished a 50 mile bike ride that neither felt long nor hard. I am getting there.

Where Are My Shoes??!?!?!

Last year I pulled off a sub-1:23 half marathon early in the training. I went back to the same race looking for a good performance. Unfortunately, the weather was crap, the course was just as hard as ever, and I struggled like never before. After about 5K, some stomach cramps hit and grew steadily worse for a while. Soon I was slouched over in a death shuffle. It has been a while since I have hurt this bad on a run. Yet when I crossed the line in 1:25:49 (6:32+/mile) I felt better.

My swimming has really picked up. Perhaps it is the previous experience in the water before or maybe it was all the videos and reading. At one point, this guy was coaching others at the pool and made a comment to one of them. Till that point, I never thought about the fact that my hand was 90° from the bottom of the pool. Once I turned my hand down, I gained more power. Even after the week off with the arm injury, I still had some good improvements. Not only am I finding it less than awful to be in the water, but my 2K time trial improved from 39:20 to 37:35 (a 1:45 improvement). That translates to a 1:11:30 Ironman swim. More work to do, but lots of time. My arm is at about 85%.

Now, to the good stuff. We are in Hermanus (near Cape Town) at a beach house. It is 2am. Sarah is saying, “What are you looking for?” I say, “What?” “What are you looking for?” she repeats. “Who are you talking to?” I ask in a purple haze worthy of Hendrix. Sarah points to the floor where there is a faint light and a black mass. Taelyn (2-year-old daughter) sometimes gets out of bed and lies on the floor. But no answer. Maybe it is my dad looking for my computer (by my bed). He has become obsessed with Burn Notice. No answer. I start to get up and the figure rises, definitely not Taelyn. Down the stairs it goes. I yell for my dad and there is no answer so I go to his room where he and my mom are in bed. Yep, someone was in our house. I shoot to the girls’ room and find them both, thankfully, asleep. My pops and I creep downstairs to find the house empty but the back door open with glass shattered on the ground.

After pulling the ADT alarm and greeting the security, we start to look around. My backpack was on the counter but is gone, along with my Comrades jacket, my mother’s REI fleece, and both ours and my parents’ digital cameras. My wallet with all credit cards, driver’s license, PADI card, and R1200 ($150) is gone and my phone too. Worst, in my backpack were my sunglasses, my computer mouse, my GPS watch, our family’s four passports, and our car keys. Why are missing the car keys a big deal? Because we only have one set, and they are the electronic kind that can only be ordered by the dealer from France, cost $300, and take three weeks to arrive. My car, our ride home, and my parent’s transport for the rest of the trip is sitting in the airport parking (at $11/day) with no way to move it.

Outside the broken window is a half-drank 40oz. of beer and on the ground a 5” knife. Thankfully, the dude did not bring the knife in the house. Security was cool, and told us this has been happening a lot, and that “squatters” break in, take stuff, and make off down the beach to their camp where they will sell the goods. Finally, the police arrive 45 minutes later and start to fill out a report. As realistic as the next guy, I know we aren’t going to find this burglar, but at least act like you care. These guys hardly say a word, take my statement with contempt, and one cop’s eyes are so bloodshot that he either was roused from a deep sleep or is drunk off his rocker (let’s not rule out both). They could not seem to understand that I do not live there. They keep asking if the house is insured and other questions, ignoring that I am renting the place! They are true to the task, though, as a call comes in about a stabbing and they tell someone else to do it. Their statement is on lined paper where the guy ad-libs what I say and he has me sign it. At the end, the last line say, “I agree this to be true, and hereby declare that I did not give permission for anyone to break into my house.” I think it is a joke. Who is in the house? Where is all my stuff? Call the cops! Someone broke in guys! What? Oh, yeah, I forgot. I did tell someone to break into my house, at night, and steal my items. Sorry for wasting your time.

Tallying up the damage, we were close to $2000 in loses. The cameras, jackets, watch, sunglasses, wallet, and cards could all be replaced. Sadly, we lost all of the pictures of our trip and our kids on the cameras. Some time on the internet could replace the credit cards and driver’s license. The passports required a trip to the consulate and a lot of money. What was worrisome was getting our work permits replaced in time to leave and return for our Tanzania trip in December. It was a major hassle (4 months) to get them originally so we hope this time will be better. The car key was a different problem as leaving a car in the airport for a month is costly, the key is costly, and being without a car in a place where you really can’t walk or bike to places is tough.

In the end, everyone was safe, and that was the main thing. These people don’t have much, so they commit crimes that get them cash or things that can be used for cash. I can understand that. I don’t blame them for what their life has become, but I am none too happy about it considering it was my items and safety in jeopardy. The feeling of having someone in your home, taking your stuff, and near your children is unnerving to say the least. But what really gets my blood boiling is that the guy took my running shoes. My used, dirty, smelly running shoes! I missed out on a run in a great place because of that. I hope they guy caught a foot fungus, and I hope it itches, bad.

You'll Have to Call Me Lefty

Sometimes when it rains, it pours. Training has been less than ideal with the staff retreat planning and starting work. The surprise volleyball appointment just made things tighter and I had to drop from focused training to a series of base work. I got smacked with a terrible cold and chest infection that hurt me for 10 days. Then I screwed up my arm.

I was playing volleyball with the high school team. After jumping in cold to serve repeatedly, we then did a hitting drill. For the remainder of the week, my arm was quite sore. Then on International Day, on the first play of a kickball game, I whipped the big red rubber ball at a 6th grader and heard a pop. My arm hurt like hell. The next day it was on fire. I went into the doctor who gave me a cortisone shot in the ass and sent me to the hospital where an ultrasound revealed no tear. However, even a week off volleyball, swimming, and lifting (with drugs) and it still hurts very bad.

Training through September 25^th.  Swimming and lifting have taken a hit with the arm injury.

	Cumulative Distance	Cumulative Time
Swim	13500m	6:19:20
Bike	359.7 mi	21:25:29
Run	167.82 mi	22:27:22
Core	N/A	4:30:00
Lift	N/A	3:30:00

It hasn’t been all illness and injury. I have been doing weekly time trials with the jogger. Four straight victories at 5k and 8K pushing two kids. Have some of that. My weight, which was a grotesque 158.5 lbs in late July, dropped to 154.3 by September 1st and by month’s end I am looking at 151.5 lbs. Again, I am not preoccupied by weight but I love to see the results of the work put in. I am stronger up top than I have been in years (likely the last Ironman) and shaving the fat will only make me more efficient.

The real satisfaction has been the bike. I don’t have the log from the last Ironman but Sarah confirms that I wasn’t on the bike that much. Not that I have been Team BMC or anything lately, but I am getting 1-2 shorter rides during the week and another “longer” ride of 30 miles or so on the weekend. This is a good start. I took this momentum to Clarens, a small mountain town to do a nice loop of the lovely Golden Gate Highlands National Park.

Rising early, the cold smacked me in the face like an underage partier mouthing off to a bouncer at a club. It was fricken freezing to say the least – my guess is 40 or slightly colder. Good thing I packed my arm warmers. After a couple of very steep kilometers, I hit my first turn, a dirt road. Whelp, that is over. I turned around to do an out-an-back in the park, forgoing the loop. The problem was my hands got too cold on the downhills. The body heat was generated well on the ups, but every time I got over 15mph (which is anything not a hill) my digits ached like in a Michigan winter. Several times in the first hour I could be found on the side of the road, hands shoved in pants, begging for my crotch to return warmth to my finger tips. When my hands weren’t the problem, it was my forehead and toes. Thankfully, the route was largely uphill on the way out.

My turnaround was at 28 miles out. After descending for several miles prior to this, I just laughed knowing what was coming. A monster category 3 climb awaited, yet it was probably the best 20 min of cycling I have ever had. Legs pumping, lungs heaving, blood boiling, I shot up this behemoth while Sarah grabbed some video (what you won’t catch on film are the screaming kids in the car). The final part of the route was predominately downhill, and I hit over 50mph on the bike, while riding 35+ on some of the “flatter” portions. It definitely made me see why the first half was so hard (see the profile below). But any ride where you see zebra, ostrich, antelope, and wild horses is a good one.

I also did some running there and was joined by three local men for over a mile. It still amazes me the people in other parts of the world who come out and run with a total strangers. If that doesn’t make you feel like you are in that scene in Rocky, nothing will.

So peep this video. It is the first in a series of documentation of the training I am doing for Ironman. Sarah asked why this song (Public Enemy’s He Got Game). I don’t know, maybe it was the beat, the mix of old school and “new” (1998) school. Maybe I just got game. So enjoy.

The profile for my 51.5 mile ride in Clarens, going over four Cat. 5 climbs, one Cat. 4, and two wicked Cat. 3 climbs. (or look here)

Tri Training - The First Month

Taking on a new training program can be pretty exciting. But I don’t recommend an Ironman plan without having adequate time. Time is something I have not had. Since moving back I have been very busy with work, going in sometimes 6 of 7 days. Not to mention a staff retreat outing that took many hours, was stressful, and made me miss some training. With that behind me I am on my way.

Thus far, I have been putting in about 2x/week of core to focus on the strength. A better core will help in the water and also on the run after hours of work. I have also been lifting about 2x/week. Nothing heavy; just the high rep/low weight for chest, shoulders, and back. I want to get stronger for the swim but I know the extra bulk will not be beneficial to lug with me on the bike and run. So balance is key. My bike has been about 2x/week on the trainer and once/week on the road for a longer ride of 20-25 miles or so. The trainer sucks as I pedal the whole time and at a much slower pace than the same effort would give me on the road. I am getting in 3 runs a week of about 4-7 miles each. It is a bit low but my first marathon isn’t until November, and I can manage pretty well on the run, so I am looking to use time an energy to build a base in the other two sports.

The bummer is that I had to take on coaching boys HS volleyball this term. So three nights per week I am staying late at school and missing out on some valuable training and rest time. I have accepted this and figure that a long base will work well for me.

After a few weeks in the pool, I am getting myself together. I started with 500m days and couldn’t do more than 250m in a shot. Then I got up to 1000m and was doing 500m at a time. My first time trial came after about a month of this and I did 2K straight after having not even gone half that far. I rocked out a 39:23, which is equivalent to a 1:15:00 swim for Ironman. I am stoked. I swam 1:13:00 my first Ironman and I am close to that pace already. I want to improve on it.

My bike hasn’t gone as well. Optimistically, I entered a 98K race. It was only just over twice as far as I had ridden so far, so why not do it? Well, first because I came down with nasty chest infection and spent the weekend in bed. I hauled my butt to the race and realized that I forgot my gloves. Gloves are sorely needed because South African roads are essentially gravel laid over glue. It hurt. I also forgot my Gu’s so I had no energy supplement. Not a good day. I couldn’t really stay with the pelotons that I wanted, but it was a decent effort. I held about 22.8mph over the first 27 miles and then faced with a turn I decided to head to the finish for the shorter race. The last 4 miles were killer and I ended the 50K ride in about 1:30:00. So it was a decent day despite the setbacks.

I have decided to keep a Cumulative training distance/time for the program. Here is my effort from August 1 to Sept. 4.

	Cumulative Distance	Cumulative Time
Swim	9000m	4:09:20
Bike	190.5 mi	11:20:34
Run	90.72 mi	12:07:22
Core	N/A	2:30:00
Lift	N/A	2:15:00