Recently in T-Minus Category

After 17+ hours of driving, we finally made it into New Orleans really early Thursday morning. We made excellent stops along the way, highlighted by Chubby's BBQ in Hayti, Missouri. Sweet & I split a ginourmous helping of BBQ, split across three plates.

Today (Friday) was the highlight of the trip thus far. I got to videotape Stu interviewing some of the best triathletes on the professional Ironman Circuit:

(L-R) Heather Gollnick, Chris McDonald, Linsey Corbin, and Desiree Ficker.

All were awesome as we ogled at their awesomeness and were more welcoming and patient with all of our photo ops. True class acts.

I'm number 302 for Sunday's race. I start at 7:12 AM in the fourth wave. There's more than 3500 registered, so it'll be a crowded course. Glad I'm out in front. You might be able to track me on Ironmanlive.com.

One last day to make final preparations and then race day! I hope to update more then.

I'm new to this whole sponsorship thing, so I'm totally blown away by what it offers. Let's review:

First, I was able to obtain a BMC TT03 bike frame. It is so sweet. The way the carbon is shaped makes looks fast just sitting on the stand. Strapped into the front fork is a ZIPP 404. In the rear dropouts is a ZIPP 808 around a CycleOps SLC+ PowerMeter. Both wheels have the trademarked dimples that cut through the wind like a golf ball. Strapped to the back wheel is a 10-speed SRAM Force derailleur system, powered by ZIPP VumaQuad compact cranks. The flight deck is controlled by ZIPP VukaAero bars. Of course, all of this will sit in transition waiting for me to get out of the water, wiggling out of my 2XU Elite wetsuit.

Sadly, I have yet to try out any of the new gear above. I'm waiting on tires and a saddle for the bike. And the ice hasn't melted on the lakes, so no wetsuit swimming yet. But, the tires are on the way, and I'll get a saddle when I get fit on my bike next week at CronoMetro.

Hopefully the weather holds and I'll get a few rides in before we leave on our road trip to New Orleans, which is only two weeks away!

I just added the little clock down to the left. Right now, it's counting down the number of days, hours, minutes, seconds until Ironman New Orleans.

And then I looked at it. Sixty-six days! Whoa! I've been base training for awhile now, but I've got to get my butt in gear. And in a hurry! I've got to beat Stu!

So I'm off to run faster, swim harder, and spin wiser. This is going to be fun...

What?! Where?! What am I supposed to be doing today? Bike? Run? Swim? Let's go! You're late!

That was my body's response to waking up this morning at 5, a full hour before any alarm bells. For once, I didn't have anywhere to be at 5. So, I peed and went back to sleep, with different sections of me race running through my head: easy on the bike, pedal circles, keep moving, and that oh-so-special finish line. At 6, I finally got up and picked up Sheila and her friend Judy for breakfast.

They'd never heard of Mickey's Dairy Bar. I don't think they'll forget it. I warned them of the portion size, but that didn't faze them. Somehow, "Pancakes a half-inch think and as big as your head" didn't sink in. Two plates each of eggs & French Toast later (I went with strawberry pancakes. So good.), we made our way to the Gatorade Swim. It seemed they renamed Lake Monona to Gatorade. I just about hit the bottom swimming with breakfast sitting low in the belly. I tasted those strawberry pancakes at a couple of different spots around the loop. Ford is STILL sponsoring Ironman. Just in case you didn't know that, because I forgot. But, between the floating Ford sign and the two signs hanging off the Monona Terrace, reminded me.

I spent part of the day relaxing, helping at work for a couple of hours, then off to the carbo-loading dinner. Lots of people there. They introduced the youngest and oldest age groupers. The youngest male, 20, got into Ironman after he got cut from his college swim team (Miami of Ohio) for not having enough endurance. "I want to stick it to them," he said, along with a prediction of a 49-minute swim split. The oldest female, 62, had the quote of the night. Mike Reilly asked how sweet it would be to pass another female on the course, knowing she's the oldest. Her reply: "I like it much better when I pass younger men." Local legend, Mark Johnson, a member of the Miracle on Ice hockey team spoke. He and his son are racing for the first time. There were lots of questions about drafting after. Some people are really splitting hairs. None of which are competing for Kona slots, that much was obvious. Just drop back; it's that simple folks. Jimmy was doing his best to keep his patience.

The orange quarter moon was drifting low in the sky as I walked home. It's 73 degrees as type this shortly after 9 PM. That's the normal high for this time of year. The prediction for Sunday is now up to 89 with a southerly breeze between 8 & 14 mph.

My mind is solid. I will drink. I will eat. I will move forward, steady and slow. I will finish. Bring it on.

T-Minus 1 day...

I was away from Madison for work on Wednesday. It was a good thing, too. Because I would've pressed my face against the window (I can see the finish line from our office) leaving nose prints as they set up the bleachers. I would not have gotten any work done. It's official: Ford does indeed sponsor Ironman North America Events.

The morning dawned poorly. The sun was obscured by low clouds, and the lake was angry. Choppy waves proved to be an obvious impediment for the gaggle of swimmers daring the morning swim. The cool wind brought enough bite to pause and ponder the forecasted high of 88 on Sunday. How could it get so hot in only three days? Only in Wisconsin.

I biked a portion of the run course, just to make sure it was still there. (It is.) But now, mile markers were painted, and aide stations were marked as well. Like Sesame Street, the letters F, G, C, W and Gu sponsor each aide station.

The morning at work was crazy. I think my head exploded twice. Add to that a call from our construction guys working near the run course, wondering if the course has changed in the last day. Run Course change! Zoinks! I find nothing on the website, but the traffic control plan (PDF) conflicts. Which one is correct? I'll have to look deeper into that.

At lunch today, I registered. It was very smooth with no waiting, and very friendly volunteers leading the way. I thanked each and everyone as I moved from station to station. It was surreal to see my name below large-type 336. And then, the bracelet. The silver, iridescent rainbow identifier that all the athletes wear. Gulp! This is really happening!

There's a reverence I have for Ironman. Sure, the branding helps, but the elusiveness entering, and let alone finishing, an M-dot race makes it special. The bracelet represents membership to an elite, if not idiotic, club. Right or wrong, I respected those bracelets and held those athletes with high regard. I'm honored and psyched to wear the silver. I will toe the line with the best, have fun, and see what comes.

After finishing with registration, I track down an IMNA official about the run course. She has no idea of a course change. More info will be announced at the dinner & meeting. I rush home to check out the sweet schwag bag. Talk about a disappointment. The best thing I got was a bib belt from some insurance company. And that wasn't even in the bag; I put it there after I picked it off of their table. I've got enough paper to start my own forest. Sheesh.

The sun struggled to come out over lunch, but more clouds rolled in and may bring some rain. Tonight, I have a short run. I'll set out my bags and start to pile which stuff goes where. I meet friends for breakfast and a swim tomorrow morning.

Until this morning, I was calm and relatively connected. This morning's workload rattled me. I haven't sat still since. Now, I'm pumped, nervous, and anxious all at the same time.

T-Minus 2 days...

This morning, I woke up with the anxiousness of a two-year old at Christmas, rushing to the window to see if anything changed out front. You see, I live two blocks from the Monona Terrace, home of the Ironman Village. They shut down my street during race day. The shuttle out to the bike course is a block away. The finish line is two blocks away. I can see the swim course out the kitchen window. I can see the start (and end) of the bike course on John Nolen Drive out of the same window. We live practically on top of the central nervous system of IM WI. As such, I can only contain my excitement so much.

I was up with the sun this morning for an easy, hour-long ride. On my way back, I skipped the road leading directly to my apartment, opting to go around the block to see if the famed M-dot has arrived on the Monona Terrace. Alas, it has not. I was hoping for a little something. Not even the banners on the light poles were up. I mean, don't they know we're only five days out!?! How could they be so blase about this? Didn't I pay an arm and a leg to be inundated with that damn M-dot? What gives?

I've seen hints of the dot. The bike course has signs requesting that fans do not use paint on the roads. Just this morning, there are more signs warning of the street closures. Last week, the paper listed them all on a full-page ad. There are hints of other athletes, too. (The fuel belts are a dead giveaway.) I'm sure that tomorrow will open the flood gates. Athletes and M-dots alike. Stay tuned.

T-Minus 4+ days...

It's Monday. The Labor Day weekend is coming to a close. Summer is unofficially over. The Monona Terrace flashed "Welcome Ironman Wisconsin 2005" on its marquee. There's less than six days on the countdown clock. It's finally time for Ironman Wisconsin to begin.

A moment of clarity came last week when I realized that it's not a question of my ability to finish, but rather at what time. There are two things that can prevent me from finishing: a bike crash, or a body crash. I can control the latter; it just takes a significant amount of mental fortitude.

It will be very easy for me to push the bike too fast, feeling too strong, and not leave anything for the run. Doing so will turn the run into a walk, and while I can accept that, I do not want it to. What would be the point of running all those miles if I can't actually run in the race? I've come too far in my running, and overcome some serious obstacles to walk for 26 miles. Besides, a seven hour walk sounds really, really boring. I must be diligent on the bike to eat, drink, and relax. I can do it; I just have to remind myself.

My body is getting restless. I catch myself with my leg bouncing, my arms twitching, my fingers tapping. I've stayed in most of the weekend, and drank plenty of water. I've fallen back on sage advice from swimming as a kid for a taper: Rest, Relax, Stay out of the Sun. Another five days of really easy workouts, and then one really long training day.

T-Minus 5 days...

THUNK!

THUNK!

My bike shoes lock in the pedals and the cool morning bites my exposed skin. I pull onto John Nolen Lake Shore path and settle into my aero bars.

Splash! Splash! Splash! Three fish jump in unison in the lake, coordinated enough to make me think they're wishing me well on my morning ride. I passed early morning runners, fewer than during the week -- must be the holiday weekend. Saturdays are a good reason to sleep in.

But not for me. Mornings are my time. A co-worker commented that finding time to train for a marathon was hard in his life, let alone finding time for three sports. I told him it's all about 5 AM. I continue east on McCoy Road, my shadow growing in front of me. It' hard to believe that's me. I see my two legs imitating a set of pistons, cranking on the pedals as I settle into a nice pace. The wind whistles through me ears, but it's silent. There's no one around. For two hours, it's me and my bike. Just the way I like it.

T-Minus 7 days...

I walk to work each morning with a well known secret. I know that in a week, the same streets I use to get to work will be teeming with fit triathletes. The unsuspecting throng of 8 to 5ers continue their zombie walks into work. They think next week will be like this week, only one day shorter. But I know a secret. I know that men with shaved legs and women cut with furious muscles will descend on downtown Madison like they own the place.

The throng will munch on their donuts and stare at all the fit folks. The streets will go through their own makeover. Banners will go up on the light poles, bleachers will be erected, buoys placed in the lake. The throng will forget last year and ask, "What's going on?" Meanwhile, a little village forms at the Monona Terrace. Tents will showcase the latest advancements in Ford vehicles, the latest in carbon fiber, and even set up an "endless pool." More than 2,000 fit folks eagerly stop at all the tents in the village, taking a keen interest in foreign words like gel, salt tablets, hyponatremia, bricks, PRs, GTG vs. USAT. They make new friends and reacquaint with old ones. As Sunday draws near, there's something growing behind their eyes: Fear. Fear of my secret. For no matter how many times you've done it, it is never easy.

I too fear the secret. The secret is Ironman.

With each passing day, my fear grows. After each workout, I overcome the fear, increasing my confidence. I rode the loop of the bike course one final time last Saturday. I was fearful of my knee, of the gravel on the roads, of the hills. Lots of doubt raced through my head. With each passing mile, my knee strengthened, the gravel was packed and the hills climbed. Fear? What Fear?

T-Minus 10 days...

The live video feed from IM Canada is showing all the finishers from today's race. I've been watching for the past hour. The announcer works feverishly to announce each and every name of the successful racers. Some cross with their hands raised. Some cross with their hands clutching their kids, husbands, wives, dads, and moms. Some cross and immediately put their hands on their knees. Some cross and immediately collapse. Some cross and congratulate a new friend met on the course. All cross the line. All finish. All are Ironman.

In only two weeks, I aim to cross that same line. (A photo of it is atop the workouts section of RobbyB.com.) When things got tough training out on the course, I have closed my eyes, imagined that line and everyone along the finishing chute. Then, the hills don't seem so big anymore, the miles aren't as long, the legs flow freely.

It's all about that line. My hands will be raised, my smile proud, and my body tired. I will get there.

I will.

T-minus 13 days...