What is Strong?

The running apparel and shoe company Saucony has a tagline in one of it's ad campaigns. It asks the question, "What is strong?" Then it goes on to try to answer with a few suggestions. All sound like good answers until they hit upon the answer that seems to get at the heart of things, "Maybe strong is what you have, when you've used up all of your weak." I love this message. What this says to me is, if you train and push yourself, and challenge yourself to do more this week than you did last week, you can do just about anything you decide to do. My A+ race this year was Ironman Branson 70.3. At the beginning of the season that would culminate in this achievement, I truly wondered if I had the mental stamina to maintain the challenging training agenda I had set before myself. Another minor goal I set was to do one triathlon per month from April to September. Somehow I managed to get in with a good training group. This isn't something I planned, it just happened. What I discovered is that if you get invited to a ride or a run, show up and you'll get invited again. The upside to this is you don't have to train alone if you don't want to. The downside, if you want to call it that is, prepare to work, maybe harder than you want some days. On any given day, someone in the group is stronger, more rested, or just plain better than you are. Between races, I trained, I did group rides, and runs. I only ran one foot race this year. I did two road bike races. I did a 50, 75, and two 100 mile group rides. I did a trail race and I did the rite of passage for all cyclists, the Hotter than Hell Hundred. All of this was done with IM Branson in mind. Everything seemed to dovetail quite well when I use hindsight. There were times I was questioning my methods though. I found it difficult to follow any of the free published plans and I'm too cheap to hire a coach. So, relying on friends and dead reckoning I shambled my way through the summer. There were days I wondered how in the hell I was ever going to do what I set out to do. Self-doubt creeped in frequently. I wore my wife out with my anxiety. I spoke to anyone that would hold still about my training. I got a some reassurance from some of them. I also talked to a tri-coach acquaintance of mine. After listening patiently to what I had been doing, he emphatically assured me I was going to do fine. Another friend shared with me what her coach told her, 'it's okay to hurt'. These few words ran through my mind anytime I got an ache and made those hard training days a little easier. As race day got closer, time seemed to speed up. The next thing I knew, I was at packet pickup and setting up my T-1 gear. I slept good the night before the race, rose early and ate some food. The rest of my gear was packed the night before. I grabbed it in the pre-dawn hours, put it in the truck and met my friends to caravan down to the Landing. We set up our T-2 and grabbed the shuttle to Moonshine Beach. Final setup; tires inflated, food and drink packed onto the bike, don wetsuit....and wait. The pros go first, then the women age groupers, then the men age groupers. From oldest to youngest in both cases. My AG (45-49)was a large group. I was reminded of the openening lyrics to Bruce Springsteen's "Wrecking Ball", "if you got the guts mister, yeah if you got the balls, you think it's your time, go on and step to the line and bring on your wrecking ball." They blew the horn and we were off. I've learned over time, that you have to race your race, not anyone else's. I swam my swim. For once, I had almost zero navigation problems. I kept swim caps on both sides of me and looked for the turn buoys in the morning mist. I got caught up in all the flailing, kicking, and body-checking a mass beach start is known for. When I claimed my space, I was on cruise control. I hit the last turn and started looking for the exit chute. I'll never forget seeing the gravel through the clear lake water as I swam the last 150 or so yards. I stood up when it was too shallow to swim. I checked my Garmin, it read 39:40. I knew I had exceeded my goal. More importantly, I felt good. I ran through the chute and up the ramp, shedding my wetsuit along the way. I got to my bike and began the ritual of swapping gear from swim to bike. I stowed my wetsuit in the transport bag provided by the organizers so it could be brought to T-2 later. It was chilly, so I put on some long sleeves. I got a big gulp of cold water, knocked back a gel and trotted to the bike mount area. I mounted and then I was off. This course is all about climbing, and the first part before you get to the high road is no different. It was slow going, but I hunkered down and spun my way along the rolling hills to the high road. I had ridden the high road a few times during training, and I knew it was a serious ride. Pacing is the key. Push too hard and fall you'll apart early. The high road portion of the course is breakneck downhills, followed by lung busting climbs. There is no break where you can just settle in a spin. I broke it down mentally into legs, and except for a RR stop, I had an uneventful ride. No flats, no wrecks, just ground it out for 56 miles. Getting off the high road meant two things; the hardest riding was over, and T-2 was near. Before I knew it I was rolling through the roundabout. I unfastened my shoes and pedaled on top of them into the dismount area. My legs were sore and tired from all the climbing. I got lost in T-2 trying to find my gear. After stumbling around, I found my stuff racked my bike and put on my shoes. I shed the long sleeves, grabbed my hat and made my way to the run exit. This was the part I wasn't sure about. How would I behave after the first two event. I'd had some poor bricks during training and some that weren't so bad. I never did a long brick though. As I turned the corner to begin running down the sidewalk that makes up the main shopping area of the landing. It was at this point that I started to believe. Not believe that I could finish, not believe that I would meet my goal. I started to believe that I might exceed my wildest expectations. I started to believe that I had "used up all my weak". I didn't monitor my pace, but I really wanted to. I tried to run by feel. I mentally broke down the run into legs, just like I did the high road section of the bike. There were a lot of folks along the run course with motivating signs and words of encouragement. Also along the run I begin to encounter some of the folks I had trained and raced with this season. I'm sure we all had the same look on our face. The face that says, "get me to the finish." I had some trouble with leg cramps from about mile three on. Along the run I saw Clint, Megan, Cynthia, Katie, Vic at several of the turns. I ran into Chris on my last lap. He caught me on a walk break and I was happy to see that he was feeling well on his first 70.3. I had to take a few walk breaks, but tried to keep them to a minimum. In the last mile during a walk break, I was passed by a woman with whom I had run for a bit. As she passed, she shouted her words of encouragement, "You got this sir!" She knew I was on my last lap. I was able to run again and fully intended to go through that finish chute as fast as I could go. Hearing your name over the PA as you enter the finish chute is quite a thrill, makes you feel like a pro as you cross the finish line. I crossed that line at 6:05:04. My good friend Don was there with the camera as he had been on every leg of this race. I turned in my chip, got a Gatorade from the cooler, and collected my finisher's medal. After that I waited for my racing friends to finish and looked for those who had come in before me. While walking up and down fence, I stopped to lay back for a minute. Then it sank in, I had done it. I had done what I wasn't sure I could nine months ago. Tears welled up behind my sunglasses. "What it Strong?" I still don't have the definitive answer, but I'm closer to knowing what that answer is now than I was on that cool, misty September morning.