Ironman Japan - Run

Of course it is a bit disconcerting when on the first few steps of running a marathon your legs buckle beneath you and you almost fall on your face. As I changed my shoes in the transition tent I had tried to psyche myself up saying 'OK Jay -- it is showtime - you are in your element now'. Then when I burst out of the transition area, the impact of 7 hours on the bicycle caused my muscles to lock up. Fortunately within a few kilometers I was running just under 5-minute pace.

From the very start of the run all the way to about 35 kilometers I consistently ran for 5 minutes then walked for 20-seconds. Only once (in a 30k workout) had I previously attempted this run/walk tactic, but it proved extremely effective. Mentally it was helpful to break the long run into smaller chunks and tell myself 'OK one more minute and you can walk.' Physically I realized a boost of energy almost every time I came off my walk intervals. In fact if I had to do the event over I would include another walk interval in the last 7 kilometers. The biggest challenge of this tactic was seeing the shock and dismay of spectators and my fellow participants. They were particularly shocked since I was running faster than the other triathletes around me so people were encouraging and cheering me on and they seemed so surprised when suddenly I would slow down and walk. One other runner implored me "Keep your pace, keep your pace, you can do it" and one group of women who had been jumping up and down cheering for me seemed almost angry when I suddenly started walking right as I passed by them. "Doshita? Fighto, Fighto (what the heck is the matter with you?)"

Aid stations at Ironman Japan were plentiful - maybe every 2 kilometers. And I took food and drink at almost all of them. It was amazing how much I ate -- muffins, bananas, fig newtons, orange slices, Ritz crackers, chocolate... More amazing was the quantity of Coca-cola I drank. Coke after coke after coke after coke. How on earth could my stomach possibly tolerate all this coke? Especially after all the ocean water I had swallowed during the swim followed by 4 Power Bars, 6 gels and countless bananas on the bike. I kept thinking I should probably cut back on my cola consumption, but as I approached the aid station the craving for coke became so strong - on several occasions I even grabbed one cup at the start of the aid station, drank it, then grabbed a cup of water and second coke at the end of the aid station.

I felt fine through the first 17-kilometers then struggled until the halfway mark. When I started the course's second loop I felt a psychological boost knowing I was on the final leg (or maybe the boost was just all the caffeine kicking in...) My plan was to pick up the pace at 35k. My plans prior to the Ironman were extremely vague - I had absolutely no idea how I might feel and what pace I should run. Nonetheless I somehow did pick up the pace to about 4:15 per kilometer at the 35k mark as well as abandon the 20-second walk intervals and cease stopping in for treats at the aid stations.

I have done a fair number of endurance events over the years and have developed a pretty good sense for expending just the right amount of energy to make it across finish the line. Somehow last Sunday I miscalculated. Maybe it was being sent on a 500-meter wrong way repeat loop at the 40k mark, maybe I stopped walking too soon, maybe I stopped eating too soon, or maybe the whole 12 hours of swimming and biking and running were going to take a final shot at me no matter what..

As I speeded up over the final few kilometers I could feel my energy draining, but I had hopes of breaking 3:30. I kept felt a bit weaker at 40k, then much weaker at 41k. I could see the castle walls where the Ironman finishes - less than 800 meters to go. And then the lights started to dim.. I saw stars and squiggly lines shooting across my field of vision. I staggered and begun to weave a bit and I have a fuzzy memory of people asking if I was OK. I reached the gate of the castle and there with less than 300 meters left I started envisioning a repeat of the famous Julie Moss 1982 Ironman finish where she crawled down the final stretch. I calculated that I had some 3 hours to crawl a few hundred meters and still beat the 15-hour cutoff. Inside the castle grounds it seemed incredibly dark, though I could hear music and crowd and see the bright lights of the finish area only a few hundred meters ahead of me and around a corner. I somehow walked to the turn and willed myself to jog down the finish stretch in front of the bleachers filled with cheering spectators. As I shuffled down the final stretch I managed to feebly gave high-fives to all the people expectantly holding their hands outstretched. Volunteers hold up a finish banner for each finisher but I was too weak to even run through it. The medical staff rushed over and carried me to a chair in a tent where Keren and Mitsu came over. Later they described me as being in a "catatonic" state.

Later that evening I would watch hundreds of other people finish Ironman - every last one looking much stronger than me -- much, much stronger. In fact most of these finishers were not just running down the final stretch, but hopping and skipping and doing acrobatic victory dances I stood there propped up against the finishing chute, clapping for the other finishers, celebratory music blaring, my Ironman towel wrapped around my head. It was then that the sense of accomplishment (and relief) began to wash over me, and all the winter rides on the Arakawa, the New Zealand ordeal, the evening Palace runs, the hard swim squad workouts, all became more than worthwhile.

Ironman Japan - Bike

"Enjoy your Ironman experience."  That is the most frequent advice I heard from the Ironman pros when they are asked to give advice to first-timers like myself.

And I made a point of enjoying the scenery of Goto Island during the 180 kilometer ride.   Much of the course is along the coastline and through forested hills.  I figured there is no reason to approach the event as a death march, and in fact I found most all of the 7 hours on the bike to be quite pleasant.

We got doused by rain early in the ride, but after that the weather was fine with only a light wind and mostly cloudy skies.

The first few kilometers I was still dazed from the swim, but eventually I picked up the pace, and hit the 60-kilometer mark in just over 2 hours, which is much faster than my training pace.  I was a little concerned at this point as my butt and back were starting to get uncomfortable and two-thirds of the course was still ahead including the most hilly sections.    Prior to the ironman I had been concerned about the hills, but the hill at the 30k mark came as a relief from the constant cycling motion on the flat areas.  It felt good to stand up on the saddle and the downhill sections were not too steep.

As I write this three days after the Ironman event is over I find myself pondering whether I could have pushed myself harder during the bike.   Given my limited bike training and struggles at the Wildflower Half-Ironman 4 years ago, my firm plan prior to Japan Ironman was to take it easy on the bike, and I kept telling myself not to push too hard on Sunday.  But other triathletes seem to be more aggressive on the bike with limited ill effects.

Ironman Japan - Swim

At a certain core, primal level I am simply scared of open water.  There is something ominous about the ocean and each triathlon I have done has entailed an effort to overcome my fear.   Eight years ago I entered my first triathlon and struggled to deal with panic and merely complete the tiny 400 yard course in a calm California lake.

So my 1:27 swim time at Sunday's Ironman is my biggest triumph of the day even though the swim is widely considered the shortest and easiest component of the Ironman. 

I was remarkably relaxed prior to the swim.  Fortunately the ocean was very calm at 6:30am, though it would get choppy later.   The temperature of the water dominated pre-race discussions, but I found it a non-issue (19 degrees is plenty warm).   Ironman Japan is a deep water start and I had been concerned about needing to tread water for awhile, but when you are wearing a wet suit in salt water you can  float indefinitely without expending much energy.   I inadvertently positioned myself in a good position for the start on the inside of the inner rope and when gun went off  I was not immediately caught in the "washing machine" effect of hundreds of swimmers thrashing and kicking each other.  

The Ironman Japan swim course is essentially an out-and-back course that the athletes complete twice.  At the first turnaround my inside position worked against me as I tried to maneuver around the buoys with dozens of other swimmers crawling over me. 

Much of the swim is a blur of struggling to avoid colliding with other swimmers and thus be able to focus on the techniques our Swim Squad coach Greg  emphasized.  As the swim progressed the water became rougher, and the second return leg required more effort to catch a breath and see the buoys.   Oddly, the two hardest parts of the swim were:
1.  The section between the two loops where athletes run around a cone on the beach and re-enter the water -- I thought I was going to throw up and it felt good to be back swimming again
2.  The final 300 meters.  I could hear the taiko drummers on the beach, but it seemed to take forever to finish the swim.   Later I learned that their was a current along the shoreline pushing against us.

It seemed to take forever to finish the swim.  But my swim pace on Sunday was much faster than any other triathlon I have done even though the distance was much longer.  At the Wildflower half-ironman it took me 47:29 to complete 1.9-kilometers in easier conditions.   It was nice to finish the swim in almost the exact middle of the pack and see so many bicycles still in the bike racks during the transition, unlike my earlier triathlons where my bicycle looks so lonely..
 

16 hours until Ironman Japan

 

The afternoon before my first ironman effort finds me surprisingly relaxed.  Maybe it is the fact that the weather forecast anticipates wonderfully benign conditions - cool cloudy weather and reasonably calm water.  Or maybe it is the fact that my teammates here have more legitimate concerns than I do - Stu is suffering a chest cold, Kerens bike cleat broke off his bike shoe, Paul and Nakamura-san have not trained at all in the past 3 months.   As inadequate as my training has been these past 3 months, at least I have done a handful of good workouts since returning from New Zealand.  And I have my coffee.  And I got a full nights sleep last night at the boxy Shato In Fukue -- think Chateau Inn.  

 

A large group of us just did a protein-loading lunch at a famous Goto Beef Steak restaurant.  I found this to be a strange culinary choice, but these people have done many Ironman races before, so I dutifully ate my steak.  Well actually I only ate half of it, I did not want to dramatically change my diet so much immediately prior to my first Ironman. 

 

At the orientation session last night, the race director spent half the time talking about cut off times.  I found this a bit disturbing - one because it makes me nervous about missing the cutoff times myself, and two because I have become annoyed at many Japanese events with what I think is an over-emphasis on cutoff times.  At NZ there was barely a mention about cutoff times.

 

People ask me my goal, and I really have no idea what to say.  I had grown ambitious in the days and weeks before New Zealand, but after my struggle on the bike there, I think it safe to just concentrate on going out slow on the bike.  Especially since the big surprise is hearing people talk about hilly the bike course is.

 

 

Sleep - Part 2

So with some sixty-odd hours to go until the Ironman, my mind is not focused on race goals, tactics, nutrition, packing or last second workouts.

Rather I am worried about getting enough sleep.  It has been a hectic week so far with a business conference and various personal hassles,  I am already starting to feel unusually sleepy and worn out.  I am sure that this is partly a psychological matter as my mind starts to contemplate Sunday's activities.  In the past my body seems to have anticipated these endurance events, and shut down in advance to gain some extra rest.

The one comforting thought is comparing this week before Ironman Japan with the travel odyssey of going to Lake Taupo New Zealand in March for the NZ Ironman.  In that case I woke at 5am on Wednesday morning to catch a painfully early, 7-hour flight out of Narita to Bangkok, where I transferred to a torturous overnight flight to Auckland New Zealand, followed by a long frantic drive on Thursday afternoon to the triathlon site, arriving just in the nick of time to register for Saturday's race.

Tomorrow morning I merely need to go catch a 2-hour flight followed by a 90-minute ferry boat ride. 

Foolishly I joined the Namban team's track workout in the rain last night.   I kept expecting the horrific thunder storm that hit Tokyo to blow over, but it only got worse and I did 800, 600, 600, 400 with Steve Lacey in torrential rain with lightening crashing down nearby.  The workout itself was OK.  I am supposed to train very hard in brief spurts this week.  According to research, these short intense workouts the week before the race will increase the mass of my muscle mitochondria allowing me to burn more lactic acid on Sunday so my muscles will work harder and longer. 

Caffeine - Part 2

The monkey is on my back again.   I am hitting the coffee and hitting it hard - a short Peet's Lost Sumatra Roast in the morning,  a large Cafe Veloce Americano in the afternoon...  I knew I hit bottom again today when my head started to ache during a tedious business meeting because I hadn't had any coffee after lunch - I was forced to brew some dreadful industrial bulk coffee.

Prior to the New Zealand triathlon I managed to reduce my caffeine consumption to less than half a cup per day, and I was poised to enjoy a performance boost from some caffeine shots during the marathon portion of the triathlon.   But going into the Japan Ironman I face the prospect of drinking canned coffee just to maintain the status quo.

I should have checked into a coffee detox center, or some sortof Caffeine Anonymous 12-step program or support group.  I envision a group of fellow coffee addicts sitting in a circle of a folding chairs in some community center, sipping paper cups filled with whiskey, and saying "My name is Jay, I am a caffeineaholic".

So as I started packing my gear for the ironman, one of the most important items is the three  No-Doz tablets each containing 100 mg. of caffeine (the equivalent of a standard cup of coffee).   To make it through the 14 hours of swimming, cycling and running, it all comes down to caffeine consumption management.

Yonige - Midnight run from my creditors

The financial cost of doing triathlons has become a crushing burden for me.  My entry fees alone for the New Zealand and Japan Ironman approached US$500 each, and the airfare, ferries, hotels, and shipping costs have added thousands of dollars more.  And on top of that there is the cost of powerbars, gels, bicycle tubes, and $150 running shoes.   Recently I have  been forced to borrow money to pay for ferries, swim fees, and sundry other triathlon costs.

Apparently this kindof debt burden is quite common in Japan (and not just among triathletes).  Us Americans are well known for our profligacy and tendency to run up credit card debt.  Japanese on the other hand, are perceived as being fastidious savers.  But in fact a sizable minority of Japanese households have run up large consumer debt balances in recent years, and much of it is either to consumer finance companies at 20-30% interest rates, or worse, to black market gangsters at much higher rates.  Bankruptcy is difficult or impossible in Japan, debt can be terribly shameful, and worst of all, lenders are using increasingly strong-arm tactics to "encourage" repayment. 

So like tens of thousands of Japanese, I must start to plan a yonige - or "midnight run" from my creditors.   The yonige process involves changing one's identity, abandoning one's home, and  fleeing  in the middle of the night to a new city and new life.  A whole industry has sprung up to help facilitate the yonige.   I am thinking to change my name to something more cool and Latin sounding, and move off to some remote, exotic locale.  Actually I am not crazy about bugs or hot weather or bad plumbing so perhaps I should flee on my yonige to Oslo or Vancouver or Sapporo.   Of course I need to be discrete in my blog so my creditors cannot track me down...

Hakkeijima Open Water Swim

The greater Tokyo area is not known for its swimming beaches.  Apparently Japan's post-war industrial push combined with decades of rampant population growth led to coastlines mostly lined in concrete and water of, well, questionable cleanliness.

So when three of us decided to do an open water swim practice today, I had this image of  traipsing across a rocky, bleak, desolate seashore filled with giant crows feasting on mounds of garbage in order to swim in foul, oily filth only to emerge with our bodies caked with a putrid slime that would leave us suffering and itching with some dreadful rash for days and weeks to come. 

So I was delighted when we arrived at Uminokoen Park near Yokosuka and discovered a pleasant sandy beach filled not with menacing crows, but with happy suburban families.  The water seemed quite clean - I could easily see the bottom during most of the swim.    Granted you could see the cranes of the Sumitomo Heavy Industries Shipyard and the smokestacks from the old Nissan Oppama auto factory, but mostly what we saw were colorful sailboards and trees and roller coasters of the Sea Paradise Amusement Park.   I lived in Hawaii for 3 years and Uminokoen Park is not quite Hapuna Beach on the Big Island, but as I floated in the water today, for a moment it was like being back at Kailua Beach Park (today's splendid May sunshine helped).

Also -- it was a great pre-triathlon training.  What a confidence boost.  I have been increasingly concerned about swimming in the open water after so many months of swimming only in a pool.   Keren led Mika and I through some drills entering and exiting the water and we worked on sighting (swimming toward a buoy, which btw is pronounced boo-eee).   I have struggled in my earlier triathlons zig-zagging through the course, but today I seemed to swim a bit straighter line.

The Uminokoen beach is about 40-minutes south of Tokyo on the Keikyu Line.   At Kanazawa Hakkei transfer to the monorail and two stops later you disembark right at the beach.  The park has coin locker and coin-operated showers with hot water.

Ironman Japan Taper

OK with eight days to go until Ironman Japan I need to at least start to think a bit about the logistics, strategy and and taper.

1. Logistics - I have been totally and completely dependent on the hard work and generosity of my teammates - particular Keren Mier.  Keren along with Mitsu Shippee has arranged for all the requisite hotels, flights, boats, etc. to get to the island somewhere near Nagasaki where the Ironman is being held.  I just need to show up.  And I need to get my bike back into a box.   Japan enjoys certain mind-boggling efficient industries and the delivery (takyubin) business is one of them.  Yeah, FedEx can ship a document across the US overnight, but in Japan it is an easy and relatively inexpensive matter to have a delivery company come to my apartment, pickup my bike on Sunday and have it waiting for me at the other end of the archipelago a few days later. 

2. Strategy -  After all these months, I still have no concept for ironman pace.  The New Zealand experience gives me little guidance.  My legs felt trashed after the 27k per hour pace for the mere 90-kilometers we did in NZ, so I am inclined to target an even slower pace.   My run strategy could be summed up simply as "walk early and often."   Since I have only one swim speed (slow), I have no need for a swim strategy. 

3. Taper - Anxiety is building over the fact that I have done hardly any training at all over the past 2 weeks.   I guess I am supposed to feel this way though -- in a proper taper one should be bouncing off the walls with bottled up energy.  I understand the key is to substitute intensity for endurance.   My spin workout on Tuesday was intense, I pushed myself through a couple sub 3:10 1000-meter intervals on Wednesday night, and pushed myself a bit on my swim yesterday.   So the real concern is not the inadequate taper I suppose, it is the lack of endurance training during the months of March and April. 

Some event the weekend after next

On Monday a friend asked about getting together on May 26th.  "OK - I think that works," I immediately replied.   "Oh wait a second, it seems like I have something that weekend.. hmmm..... what is it?...  Oh!  Now I remember.  I am supposed to do an ironman triathlon on the 28th."

In the weeks leading up to the New Zealand Ironman, the triathlon was all I thought of from the moment I woke up in the morning.  But with 10 days until Ironman Japan I find that my mind has been distracted by other sundry matters.

The trauma of New Zealand Ironman being cancelled after all the preparation might contribute to my current attitude.   Having experienced several race cancellations now due to inclement weather, I cannot convince myself that the event will happen at all until I actually find myself in the water. 

Nonetheless I need to start thinking about the logistics of the event, and thinking about my taper.  I have to believe the weather will be fine.

Running in Nanjing China

 

For a Chinese city of some 5.3 million people, I found that it surprisingly easy and pleasant to run in Nanjing. Yesterday I covered over 25-kilometers of the former Chinese capital, most of it through forest roads and along lakeside paths. 

 

My loop took me past many of Nanjing's scenic highlights along the eastern edge of the city.  I did "cheat" a bit by taking a short taxi rides at each end of the run.   Among the attractions was the fact that much of the run was immediately adjacent to the Ming City Walls which date back to the 14th century and stretch some 33-kilometers around Nanjing.  The city walls seem to be holding up much better than the older and more famous Great Wall.

 

From my hotel in Nanjing's Fuzi Miao area, I took a 5-minute, 2-kilometer taxi ride out to Nanjing Museum.  A few hundred meters east of the museum I could pass through the towering (40-meter high) Ming City Wall and start up Purple Mountain, a large forested area on the eastern edge of Nanjing.  For several kilometer I ran northward along forested roads and on trails past small lakes enjoying the looming sight of the Ming Walls.  There was a bit of auto traffic on the road sections, but it was still pleasant to run.   I gave myself some extra hillwork by climbing the cobblestone, 2-kilometer road up to the Purple Mountain Observatory, and enjoyed the birds-eye perspective of Nanjing and hazy views of the Yangtze river in the distance.  Then I turned around back down the Purple Mountain and westward across a busy street to Nanjing's other urban running treasure - Xuanwu Lake. 

 

Xuanwu Lake reminded me a bit of running around Green Lake in Seattle with its paved pedestrian perimeter trail filled with people strolling (but no other runners).  I ran counterclockwise from the south end of the lake around to the main entrance on the lake's west edge.  Here I decided to pay the small fee to run through the 5 islands  These islands are connected by bridges and make for great running 

 

I exited at the Jiengaman Gate at Xinhua Lake's south end and ran several kilometers through the city center before hailing a cab for the 2-kilometers back south to my hotel.        

Running in Dalian China

 

As largish cities in China go, Dalian is a particularly pleasant place to run.   I charted a 25-kilometer course that loops around the peninsula upon which the city of Dalian is perched .  There are shorter versions of this loop, and frequent opportunities to hail a cab home at any point when one starts to feel tired. 

When I asked the hotel manager about my proposed route, as expected, she was shocked and horrified, and essentially pleaded with me not to attempt something she considered so long and difficult.   Of course I was not deterred.  It was a pleasant Sunday morning in May, and I left my hotel in central Dalian at around 9:45am with money, a map, and the hotel address tucked in the back pocket of my singlet.

My hotel was near the impressive Zongshan Square from which the city's major thoroughfares radiate.  I ran directly through center of town for 1.5-kilometers to the harbor.  The sidewalks of Dalian were comfortably wide and the streets less dangerous to cross than in most of China's urban areas. 

 

Upon reaching the waterfront I turned south and followed the coastline road for 3-kilometers to the entrance of Sea Charm Park.  These 3-kilometers were the least pleasant part of the course -- busy roads that took me past factories and power plants.  But even this section was easy running along a wide sidewalk.  Then at Sea Charm almost all the traffic is eliminated by a US$1 park entry fee, and the quiet road hugs the rugged coastline along the southern coast of the peninsula.  The road climbs past the park's gigantic plastic fish and whales.  On the morning I ran, over a dozen wedding parties were posing for photos along the beach in tuxes and puffy gowns.  The running for the next 10 kilometers was great, entailing spectacular views of the coast, fishing trawlers, and the Communist party resort area. 

 

After about 5 kilometers I exited Sea Charm Park but automobile traffic was still light, and the views impressive.  I passed through some residential areas where the local people seemed a bit surprised to see someone running, but 3 different men flashed an approving thumbs up at me, and a couple woman yelled out encouraging remarks.  I had frequently stopped to admire the view and examine my map, so it was 1:00 by the time I reached Xinghai Square - an enormous public square on the southern coast surrounded by immense seafood restaurants and a European style castle.  Rather than run back through town, I jumped in a cab from this point for the 6-kilometer journey home, though this area also appeared very runnable, following a canal and traversing an upscale hillside neighborhood of renovated historical villas and cafes.  

 

Dalian is a prosperous harbor city with great colonial architecture, and lots of open green space, which struck me as especially dramatic coming from Tokyo.  

 

(Google Earth does not appear to cover China so I have not yet been able to map this run and provide more accurate mileage marks)
 

"Real" Marathon Training

After listening to so much strategizing and analysis among all the real marathoners at Tokyo's Namban Rengo running club, it dawned on me that I should actually do some marathon training myself, given that I am supposed to complete a marathon in 3 weeks as part of the alleged Ironman.  Or more specifically, I should do a real "long run" -- since for me a long run has meant any distance over about 12 kilometers, and apparently the most vital preparation for a marathon is doing comparable endurance runs of over 30 kilometers.
 
So on an unseasonably warm Monday afternoon,  I headed to Tokyo's Imperial Palace for a brisk 32.5-kilometer run.  I felt miserable running, but the one nice thing is that despite living here in a megalopolis of some 32 million people, I happen to run into 4 different friends during the course of the run (Dave, Meg, Stu, Jeff) and can feel like I am part of an intimate little community.
 
After I jog the first 2.5k at maybe 6-minute pace, I decide to speed up to a rather randomly faster pace, and I manage to run the next 20k in about 86:30.  This is wildly faster than my Ironman race pace, and I find myself getting tired, so I dropped off to 4:30-5:00 pace for the final 10-kilometers.  For the first part of the run I walked for 15-20 seconds every 5 minutes (but continue to let my watch run).  I was hoping I would feel better than I did, but the important thing is I will sleep a little better knowing that I have got some legitimate marathon training under my belt.