Mountain Mist 50K

January 27, 2007
Huntsville, AL

The context of this race is my second 50K trail run. Somehow I managed to win my first foray into ultramarathon, last October's Stumpjump. My training partner and coach Jamie Dial had killed ourselves to get ready for this race. Often we would would finish a 15, 20, even 30 mile run racing each other at top speeds. Despite his pre-race sandbagging trash talk ("I haven't really been training...I just got back into running,") we were both pumped.

If you have never toed the starting line of a race with the idea of trying to win it, imagine the adrenaline that is flowing! You've spent every weekend running in mud, wind, rain, and sunlight in order to temper your body into something hard and fast. Right next to you is any number of competitors who want to do the same, and they want to beat you at your own game. You really have to go inside of yourself and resist the urge to freak out, take off too fast, or walk off to the side and quit before you start. I thought I was prepared.

The race started in a unfurling stampede of running shoes. The start of a 31 mile race involves opening up your legs just enough to get them rolling, but exercising enough restraint so as not to foolishly expend your reserves. It is a competition to see who can whisper the loudest. I searched for my rhythm that was effortless but fast. My sights quickly set on the number of runners ahead of me...let's see...okay, there's 8. And Jamie is right behind me. The first few miles before any real effort begins you are unrolling yourself like a big spool of yarn across the floor. The momentum of the body carries you through each step without really pushing. We floated along, and I found myself in 6th place in the early stages of the race.

The most exciting part of trail running, in my opinion, is the agility required to go fast. The myriad of rocks, roots, rollers, twists, and trees require an athleticism different from road running. Your attention must focus on every step to cover ground efficiently. To run strategically this means that you must "float" over these trail hazards while at the same time never quite putting yourself "out there" with too much effort.

Another interesting strategy of trail running is walking the hills. WALK THE HILLS. Somewhere in about the third or fourth mile of the race--still very early--I walked 50 feet up a little rise. Now mind you I could have jogged up the hill, or even ran briskly up it. But ultra racing is all about conservation of energy. So here I smoothly transitioned to power walk for several paces, then rolled back into a gliding run. Such tactics early on were invaluable later when it came time for the Fourth Quarter Smackdown.

As the first 10 miles rolled by, then 15 miles, I had to carefully protect my state of mind. I was using all of my energy conservation strategies of walking hills and floating over terrain, but mile after mile I was still sitting in 6th place. The 5th place runner just seemed to hang out up there about 30 or 45 seconds ahead of me, and nothing I tried seemed to bring him any closer. Who knows how fast the other runners ahead were going.

Through these middle miles, I began to give myself a little speech. "It's time for your reality check. You are running well, but you are in the presence of better runners today. Time for a reality check. You are about to be put in your place."

Presently I Iooked at my watch and realized two and a half hours had passed already, and it felt like the race was still just getting started. I still did not have the really "fired up" feeling that I was hoping for. I had been constantly drinking Hammer Perpetuem drink throughout the race so far, but I needed something more. I remembered I had an energy gel containing 50mg of caffeine, and I decided it was time. I slurped the gel and washed it down with more Perpetuem. I was approaching one of the rockiest, most contorted sections of the course.

The trail really started to get nasty here. Imagine running on rocks ranging from marble to tennis ball size. Sharp rocks. What looked like a nice wide open trail took even more concentration on footing than before. The feet were getting bruised. I even fell and whacked my kneecap on a rock. Pain shot though my body as my knee suddenly stiffened. I fought back the pain and tears as I tried to it walk off. Reality check: "Eat more of that gel. Get the caffeine in you. Be careful man, you could really hurt yourself here and loose even your 6th place."

Blessing of blessing....I could still run and I got my legs turning over again. I got my momentum back a little bit and all of the sudden I could see 5th place ahead of me. He didn't even know that I had fallen and he appeared to be suffering on the sharp rocks even worse than I was. I rolled right up and ran behind him--both of us in silence--until I passed him with a few words of collegial encouragement.

It was almost time for the Fourth Quarter Smackdown. I put the afterburners on in an attempt to put some space on the guy I had just passed. I was in the groove now, flying through the rocky stuff to the start of the Waterline Trail. The Waterline is a mile of perfectly straight trail that starts almost flat. It gradually gets steeper and steeper until it launches almost vertically, where you actually climb up the side of a waterfall, cross the waterfall itself, then climb hand over foot, grasping at trees and solid rock to claw yourself up the side of the bluff.

Jamie's words: "This is where all hell will break loose." In ultra racing, "all hell breaks loose" differently than in the ordinary sense. Mile 23 of a 31 mile race is where most people are going to pay the price for their earlier pacing indiscretions. One such runner suddenly came into my view.

It was time to make my move. Begin smackdown.

This runner was struggling to run, no, jog up this hill. I would run a few steps but each time my heart rate started to climb I would shift back to my power walk. Fast steps. Breathe. Keep your head up. He was getting closer. We transitioned onto the section which is basically rock climbing, and I just kept reeling him in even though I was walking. My bloodstream was coursing with lactic acid, caffeine, adrenaline as I passed him.

In the space of a few seconds, I tightened the screws on my competition. It took every bit of strength I had to keep putting one leg in front of the other but now I had to take it one step further. Before I got to the top of this crazy steep climb, I kicked in 10 or 20 steps of running. I had just dropped 4th place like he was standing still. This was my plan, and the execution was suddenly unfolding exactly like I had hoped!

Topping out the climb brought little relief because I had to keep the pressure on. Better yet, just 75 yards ahead of me through the clearing was the 3rd place runner, last year's winner. Awesome! I focused on keeping my momentum with a high cadence. I rounded a corner and suddenly saw him lying on the ground, clutching his hamstring and crying out in pain. I wished him a quick recovery as I freaking FLEW past him.

In the course of 10 minutes, my entire fortune had changed. Rather than languishing in 6th place, I had suddenly busted out the crux move of the entire 31 mile race, presently feeling stronger than ever and in 3rd place. Moments later I passed my support crew Kathy and MJ and said to them, "how about them apples!" They handed me a bottle of HEED and confirmed that I was 10 minutes behind the top two runners. Third place was mine to keep or loose now, and I held it.

Really, that was the race right there. With 6 miles remaining, I flew down a long, steep, twisty, rocky mile-long descent...feeling awesome. The final mile- long climb was challenging, but the patience early in the race allowed me to keep my momentum up it, then finish the final 1.8 mile flat section in a sprint. To get third place behind two of the top trail runners in the nation felt awesome, and my time of 4:05 would have won many years of the race. The previous course record of 4:02 was smashed by winner Dave Mackey's time of 3:46. Whew!

I was across the line, but how were my friends doing? My race wasn't just about my race, it was about the training and fun and all the smackdowns and coaching Jamie had inflicted on me. I had hardly put my warm clothes on when I saw Jamie bust across the line in 6th place. Awesome! Still breathing hard, he said to me with more than a little Tennessee drawl, "now do you see the benefit of the Fourth Quarter Smackdowns?"

Big Kudos to my other friends who also finished with special congratulations to my dear partner Rachel who finished her first 50K in true rock star fashion (you'll have to ask her what I mean.) Wendi Parker-Dial got 2nd place and Kris Whorton won the women's side (both beat the previous course record). Mark Harris, Chad Wamack, Nick Nicholson, Chris Lewis, and Kieth Woodall are my training buddies and friends...great job guys! Huge thanks to Kathy Mead and MJ who provided expert support crew help during the race, and Mary Ann McCain and Rusty, for cheering extraordinare. Thanks to all my clients, friends, and readers of my newsletters who root me on and send me the positive mojo vibes.

A Memoir of Steve Taylor, the UI Triathlon Team, and the UI Triathlon Training Camp

By Dan Koos (October 21, 2002)

My earliest recollection of Steve Taylor was at the Cornman Triathlon, July 15, 2001. I was struggling through the challenging 14-mile bike leg, approaching the loop through the town of Gladbrook (Happycreek to the locals), when flying around the corner comes the pace car followed by some guy down on his aerobars sporting an eagle tattoo on his left shoulder. My first thought was ‘damn, that’s a fn huge tattoo’, then I thought man that guy is hauling some serious ass. For the next few miles, I pondered my future in the sport of triathlon. How do I get to be as fast as the guy with the tat? More immediately, though, I wondered how I was going to make it through the run. I finished the day, exhausted, but happy with my performance. I stuck around for the awards ceremony, even though I had finish well out of the top 3 in my age group. I was taking in the whole experience, the post-race atmosphere, and wondering what triathlete studs looked like, waiting to catch a glimpse of the tattooed fellow, who had inflicted pain on his competition and scorched the course. I never did get to record a mental image of Steve Taylor, as I later learned his name. In fact, he seemed to elude me for the next year and a half. Always seeing his name in the race results, but never getting to steal a look at the elite triathlete.

After finishing my first summer season, bagging four races and achieving moderate success, I was in love with the sport. I wanted to explore my potential, but wondered how to reach a high level of success. The first step was for my friend, Sara Hill, with whom I had shared the race season and training sessions, and I to found the UI Triathlon Team, hoping that training partners would push us to new levels and that team unity would make the practice sessions more enjoyable and fun. I was a former all-state swimmer and Sara was a Boston-level marathoner. We approached coaching the team from the standpoint of working hard in the pool and hitting the pavement for long runs. The team made it through the first season, collecting about 12 members, learning much about the odds-and-ins of running a club. Although I had not trained with the frequency or intensity that I had intended, I approached the 2002 summer season with optimism.

Again, I found moderate success in my summer races, but was disappointed with my level of improvement. I knew that I had not done the training to warranted podium performances and felt like I was wasting my potential. I knew that something had to change. How do I improve in the sport of triathlon? The generalized training knowledge that I possessed from the one-dimensional sport of swimming was not enough to make gains in the sport of triathlon. Re-enter Steve Taylor.

While surfing the web, looking at race results and setting goal times, I stumbled across an online coaching service, run by none-other-than Steve Taylor. I immediately sent out an email, inquiring about his services. Over the next month-and-a-half, Steve and I communicated over the phone and via email to devise a weekend training clinic. With the team and public excited about the proposal, the clinic took place at the UI Fieldhouse on the weekend of October 18-19, 2002.

The clinic began Friday night. I stood near the front entrance of the Fieldhouse keeping an eye out for Steve, not really knowing what to look for. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a guy cruising by in a yellow US Postal baseball cap, ala Lance Armstrong. Steve once again eluded my full line of sight. I could not just yet leave my post, as I had to usher in the other team members and the public participants. As the last people rolled in, I head up to the classroom to finally meet Steve Taylor. Steve is tall, thin (obviously fit and cut from his years of triathlon training), with blond hair peaking out from his tour de France hat, Ironman Wisconsin inspired toenails, a chiseled-face, and a huge smile.

The first thing that struck me as the weekend clinic began was Steve's modest summary of his triathlon resume. You would think that someone with his success would possess a level of arrogance. After all, he did win the collegiate division of Ironman Wisconsin, qualifying for Hawaii. After a brief overview of the weekend itinerary, we began the with some fun icebreaker activities. We got well acquainted with each other, taking turns introducing each other's bios, sharing funny stories, and working in large groups to simultaneously stand-up without the use of our hands.

Then it was on to the first mini-lecture/discussion, Bringing Out Your Best. Steve queried us for our goals for the clinic, for the sport of triathlon, and for life in general. We were taken through a session of relaxation, hypnosis, and visualization. Perhaps the greatest technique was to image looking at ourself in a mirror, accepting the way that we are now, yet seeing our future self in the mirror. Next was to place a single string between the two likenesses and to focus on them combining into one. The key to joining the two images is to set goals and take the appropriate measures to achieve them.

After Steve used his psychology background to pick our brains, we hit the pool. Coming from an extensive swimming background, I did not really have high expectations for learning much in the pool. I had spent years honing my swimming technique and approached the sessions as an opportunity to get in a good work. I quickly learned a valuable lesson, though, never underestimate Steve's knowledge of the sport or ability to teach athletes of all levels. The advanced swimmers were taught the skill of drafting. While I had been exposed to drafting by virtue of swimming in lanes 5-6 people deep, I had never really thought about the drafting strategy as it applies to triathlon and open water swimming. I was awakened to the concept of using other swimmers to pull you along so that your energy can be saved for the bike and run. We were introduced to what Steve calls the chaos swim. The concept was simple, yet innovative. All participants started in one corner of the 50-yd pool, to simulate a race start, and swam along the perimeter of the pool, using drafting techniques and experienced the true chaos of a triathlon start. To say the least, I learned valuable insight about drafting and using my swimming talents to my advantage. The beginner swimmers were given instruction on proper swim technique, body position, body roll, proper arm entry, kick, breathing, stroke recovery, etc. All in all it was a fun pool session with much learned by all.

As a nightcap, Steve, Sara, TJ (Leroy), and myself hit up Ponchero's for some late night nourishment and to hear about Steve's triathlon and life experiences. Many stories to be saved for the bike ride.

The next morning started at 8:00am with a stretching and posture session. We were taken through an extensive stretching lesson, of which I highly enjoyed. I had forgotten about the importance of flexibility as it relates to injury prevention and technique improvement in all three disciplines. Steve's background in yoga and weight training served us well as we did some posture exercises; a bit more invasive than the parental units telling us to stand up straight. I was definitely inspired to strive for flexibility and maintenance of such gains.

The warm-up allowed us to transition into the running workout. We went for a nice easy jog to the sight of our deaths; 8-10 killer hill repeats on Mt. Everest. Actually, the hill was perfect for such a workout, about 1:30 to the top at a hard pace. It was a reality check for many of us about the level of our fitness. Steve provided comments on running technique and words of encouragement. A well-appreciated cool down jog was had by all on the way back.

The next mini-lecture was Training Planning and Periodization. Steve used the systematic training approach in order to gain maximum fitness and minimize injury. I had long anticipated a session on how to train. The concepts of periodization were presented in both a generalized season long form and in weekly specific scheduling. An effective and much appreciated reoccurring approach with Steve's teaching style is making the information useful to both beginners, who aspire to complete a triathlon, and to those aspiring to dominate at local races or complete an Ironman. Although I could easily use the information provided in this session to make my own season long training plan, I will seek out Steve's professional touch into drafting an individually tailored schedule. Plus, the added input of Steve experiences are priceless.

Moving on, we made a stop at Baldy's (highly recommended if you ever make a trip the UI) in downtown Iowa City for lunch. In talking to Steve about nutrition and training, I was told about food comas. A food coma is achieved after a long hard day of intensive training followed by a session of heavy food intake, in which the combination of the two leads to a deep state of indifference and drowsiness (more later).

The final session, Essential Triathlon Equipment, detailed how to shop for tri equipment; everything from bike components, to wetsuits, to aerobars, to running shoes. You name it, Steve covered it. We even set up TJ on the bike trainer and collectively analyzed his aerodynamic riding posture and pedaling technique. Part way through the lecture, I hit the food coma. I was not at all disinterested in the topics, just dazed from the killer running workout. By then things were winding down, for we had taken up enough of Steve's valuable time. We would have held him hostage, but alas we digressed.

What impressed me the most about the weekend clinic was the quantity and quality of information covered, although I was not surprised, considering Steve's success in the sport. Not only was it valuable and educational on a personal level, the clinic really inspired the entire team and improved the team unity. We have since established UI Tri Team goals and plan to share individual goals at a future date. Steve possesses an abundance of energy and enthusiasm for teaching triathlon and we were fortunate to obtain his time and services. We thank Steve and hold him with the utmost regards. His character and integrity are unmatched. I highly recommend seeking out Steve's advice, as it will be the most important investment that you will ever make in the sport of triathlon.

***The UI Triathlon Team is planning to collaborate with Steve Taylor in the Spring of 2003 to provide the Iowa City and surrounding communities with a weekend triathlon training clinic. This clinic will serve as nice springboard into the summer race season, especially the Race for Sight Triathlon on May 4, 2003 in Columbia, MO (www.raceforsight.org) and/or the Pigman Sprint Triathlon on June 1, 2003 in Palo, IA (www.pigmantri.com). Check out www.triathletepro.com and/or www.uiowa.edu/~triteam for future details.

Colorado Training Camp

Prologue:

I got up at 4:30 to finish packing before I left Columbia at 6am. I packed into my van two duffel bags of workout clothes and shoes, a crate of bike equipment, a box of food, wetsuit, three bikes, rock climbing shoes and harness, and two books of CD's. I was preparing for what would intentionally be the most difficult week of training I could arrange. This would be 7 days of Ironman-specific training in Colorado. The idea is of taking a training camp is to set aside all the normal distractions of daily life: work, phone calls, relationships, e-mails, housework, etc, and focus on busting your butt. I am 6 weeks from Ironman Wisconsin. It is go time.

The drive through Kansas took more endurance than the Katy Trail Death ride a couple weeks ago. The main difference with that ride, a 225-mile off-road epic on July 4, was that at the end of the ordeal we would celebrate and go home. After I survived I-70 Kansas my work would be just beginning.

I arrived at 5pm to Youngblood's house in Denver. Youngblood, aka, Nate Wangerin, is an athlete whom I coached last year when he was a beginner triathlete. This week, the coach would become the athlete, the former disciple is now the master. Youngblood was this year's Race for Sight winner in the open division. He has been training with a Cat I cyclist named Ryan Gilmer. When I arrived, he asked if I felt like a 3 hour tempo ride. What the heck, I came to Colorado to ride. Why not start immediately!?

We began snaking through the streets of Denver, weaving through streets, up hills, and along bike paths. After a few minutes of warming up, Nate began to press the pace. This began the "tempo" approach to our ride, which essentially means push the pace continuously during the ride. I alternated between trailing in Youngblood's draft zone and pulling up alongside him to talk. Soon we were on the outskirts of town and riding up a gradual canyon. He was laying down a hard pace into the wind, and I had relegated myself to staying in the safety of the draft. Nate was stretched out on his road bike while I hammered in the aerobars of my Trek Hilo. He told me that we were riding towards Golden, and soon I could see in the distance the enormous complex that makes Golden, CO famous for the Coors brewery

When yeast ferments in a suspension of hops, yeast, and barley, the microscopic organisms eat grain sugar and produce a waste product known as alcohol. Presently, my muscles were engaged in a similar process, spewing lactic acid into my bloodstream, burning my quadriceps, overloading my heart and lungs. He just poured it on, and I hung on for dear life as we rode past the water cleansing facilities and soon were met with the smell of beer. We rolled into the parking lot of the brewery and turned to ride home. I was suffering, and I was finding what I had come for.

Day 1

I arose at 7 am my first morning in Colorado. My goal was to work out all day. Run, swim, ride, run. Swim again if there was time.

My training day started from the country club where Youngblood manages the pool. He had some work to do, so I began my day with a run. Currently running is the area where I am looking for a breakthrough: Whereas I can run 2 hours or 6-minute mile repeats fairly easily, I am looking for that ultra-distance ease that comes when you are completely efficient and confident of your running. I want to get off my bike at Ironman Wisconsin knowing that I have a lot of toughness ready to inflict on my competitors.

I set out for a run and quickly found some dirt fields where I could run off-road. The sun was warm and dry, and the prairie dogs laughed as I ran past. At first I felt sluggish because of the multiple bowls of cereal I had for breakfast, but soon I found my stride and ended up running an efficient-feeling 10 miles. The day was off to a good start. When I arrived back at the pool, Youngblood was there and we jumped in the pool.

Swimming was a different story. The effects of a few thousand feet elevation made itself evident in the pool. I could swim several strokes feeling great, but almost as quickly my coordination disappeared and my power waned. That is okay. Swim enough and you will always get through that feeling. We did 800 yards of speedwork and I never felt very smooth. Hopefully subsequent swims here would begin to feel better, or at least when I returned nearer to sea level. Two workouts down, onto the next one. A large turkey sandwich and a nap was my preparation for our next workout.

I recommend any serious triathlete to consider a training camp. This is the second time I have done one in Colorado. Each time I find that I am able to totally immerse myself in sport. Your mindset changes when you can talk, think about, and do training all day for several days in a row. Youngblood hooked us up with his mentor, a pro cyclist named Ryan who operates his own team, www.techniques.org. In his early thirties, Ryan has raced since age 9. He has raced for the US national team and European racing teams. He talked with a mix of nostalgia for the days when it was "Bobby Julich, Lance, and I heading to Europe." Last year he race the Mountain Biking World Cup series and finished 7^th in the world!! He continuously made jokes about Jonathan Vaughters being a whimp. (Vaughters had just dropped out of his umpteenth unfinished Tour de France.) "'Oh, oh, my hand hurts!' If you got paid $50,000 a year to do ONE THING, don't you think you'd figure out a way to get it done?" He also talked about some of the darker sides of cycle racing. It was unpleasant to think about the under-the-table aspects of an expensive sport like cycling.

The good news is that I got to hear lots of training ideas and racing stories from Ryan, the bad news was that I had to keep up to hear them. We set off on what would be a 6-hour training ride that would happily destroy my legs. After 90 minutes of riding, our first hurdle was a 6-mile, 4000 foot climb up Lookout Mountain. The climb began with an aggressive rise and never stopped. I was in my smallest and second smallest gear for 30 minutes. The ride snaked up along the edge of this cliff, switchbacks, and incredible knee-trembling views. The Coors brewery, earlier towering around us, was now shrinking into a tiny Lego structure. When we passed rock climbers my eyes got big. I was beginning to feel the altitude. While I had climbed behind Nate's rear wheel for a while, he now easily pulled away from me, and I told myself to just keep going, donÕt blow up. I could now feel the effects of the altitude, and would only allow myself a glance of the view, lest I lose track of my task at hand: Stay Moving Forward. My knees were hurting, my heart and lungs just as bad, my quads steadily increasing a burn. Yes! This is what I was here for. The pain and difficulty that would make an Ironman seem like a cakewalk.

We crested the climb as Ryan and Nate generously waited for me. As we started down the other side I took stock of my situation: I had spent myself on that climb, I was bonking and not sure what I had left for the rest of the ride. I had stretched a bit and managed to get my knees feeling okay, but I had only a little food and less bodily energy reserves. I thought that I could remember my why home.

Those guys would hear nothing of me turning back. They found me a caffeine source and I munched the pop tarts I had in my jersey pocket. Those were the best tasting pop tarts I had ever eaten! We continued riding, a few more climbs and searing descents and soon we were looping back towards home. It was a relief, and I was even starting to feel better. The biggest adrenaline rush of my less than 24 hours in CO was the ride back down those hairpins of Lookout mountain. I was really testing my equipment and testing my proprioceptionÑoneÕs sense of balance and bodily movementÑby passing cars down a hairpinning descent. Pedal, tuck, lean, pedal, breathe, breathe, breathe.

Now it is 10pm. The day consisted of 10 miles running, 2000 yard swim, 80 miles bike, and 3 more running. My belly is full of Endurox, Mrs. T's Pierogies, mixed greens, and a Flying Dog Pale Ale. Youngblood and I watched an hour of the Tour du France and struggled to stay awake. Tomorrow I would get up and start all over again. Tomorrow's mission: the Long Run.

Day 2

This morning started late, around 9:30. I forced myself to sleep late in order to be ready for the Bataan death march I had planned. That, and Youngblood was coaching prelims for the age 7 and under swimmers until late morning. I got up, had breakfast, and wrote yesterday's dispatch.

I heard that Colorado has some problems with forest fires, so I brought some nice weather from Missouri. The first night I got here it rained. Yesterday and today it was overcast and not too hot. The haze today gave the view a blue tint and allowed me to smash my longest recent long run.

The view today was incredible. I swear I could see into Kansas from this mountain. We were looking down onto the town of Boulder and the Boulder Reservoir.

He arrived around 11:00 and we got set to head up to a trail near Boulder. Nate rode my mountain bike and hauled water for me as I put in a 3-hour-even run. The first 40 minutes were the most painful, we started going straight up a rise into a canyon. Fortunately we ran out of mountain bike-able trail because I was fast approaching the tree line, so we then made way across some rolling pasture land next. I felt remarkably good and my heart rate was extraordinarily low given the altitude and previous day's training.

During this run I made an important discovery. I first stopped and walked for 2 minutes about 15 minutes into the run. After that, I periodically stopped for about 1 minute to hydrate, stretch, and recovery walk. It had to be a key contribution to how well I felt by the end of such a long run.

Day 3

ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING

These are the words on the door of The Ranch Country Club pro shop where Youngblood is pool manager and youth swim coach. Youngblood (aka Nate) and I arrived to the pool at 7:15 in the morning. I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt pulled over my head. It had been a couple hard days of training and I was tired.

Nate warned me that the age 15-17 swimmers were frustrating to coach. It didn't take long for me to see why. They were resistant to even the simplest of directions, such as the warm up set of 300 swim, 200 kick, 100 stroke. Four girls talked among themselves in Lane 1 while Nate gave instructions for the next set. Others asked to leave early and put little effort into their workout. I guess there is something among adolescents where it is not cool to try hard, but these kids had it bad.

The next group, ages 8-10, were completely different. They listened closely to the next swim set and showed an investment in what they were doing, even with the excess energy that one would expect from kids that age. It was so exciting to see young Kendall, age 10, tearing it up in the pool with his thrashing freestyle stroke; coming in 10 seconds before the next kid. Nate said that a couple years earlier they were working hard to help Kendall swim across the pool. Now he was the fastest in the group.

I sat on the pool deck thoroughly enjoying watching them practice starts from the blocks and flip turns. My own turn to test my attitude was coming soon. As my "day off," I resolved to stay off my legs completely. Technically, though, I could swim like crazy . My first session in the pool began as the last 8-10 year olds were exiting the water.

Denver is around 5000 feet elevation, about 4000 feet above Missouri's elevation. (Correct me if I'm wrong, please.) People always warn me; "You'd better take a week to acclimate to the elevation. You will be light headed and weak." My experience, on the contrary, was very manageable. My first three days of predominantly cycling and running were difficult, yes, but also survivable. Perhaps the heart rate is a bit higher and the lactic acid threshold arrived quickly on hills, but all told, I was doing fine.

That all changed when I got into the pool. I normally breathe on a 3-stroke count, meaning I take three arm pulls between each breath. Diving into The Ranch pool, I could barely swim across the pool and back without gasping for air on that rhythm. So my first adaptation was to breath predominantly on a 2-stroke count. Unfortunately I still felt like I was struggling to get a "feel for the water." Here is what I did: The pool is right next to the tennis court, and a couple of tennis balls had made it over the fence into the pool area. I swam 500 yards grasping these in my fists. This drill is similar to a fist drill (i.e., swimming with fists instead of open hands), except that the buoyancy of the balls forces you to be even more precise with your swim stroke movement. I did some kick drills and some pulling drills and even put my wetsuit on to be creative in the water.

All told, nearing the end of a 3000-yard swim session I had gotten my feel for the water. It was not draining or demanding in terms of intensity, but a super important set because I found my feel for the water. That prepared me perfectly to drive with Nate to a greasy spoon and order a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast. After that, we went back to his house and crashed for a 2-hour nap. Nate got up and headed out for a blistering cycling session. I shied away because, even though I am in good shape, I would have been chewed up and spit out by his workout. For me, it was back to the pool.

The afternoon swim set was supplied to me by Nate before he left, and involved 400's, 100's, and 50's. Barely able to breathe, this workout demanded everything I had to complete at a fast pace. I was even coming in slower than typical set in Wilson's pool, but working harder. Here is where my attitude was tested. I felt real pain, effortful, gasping-for-breath pain during that swim set. I was pushing myself to even finish the repeats. But that is the point. I drove, THROUGH KANSAS, to test myself for 1 week and to prepare for Ironman Wisconsin. I had to test my resources at a deep, personal level in order to finish that second 3000 yard swim in one day.

And today was my rest day.

Attitude Is Everything.

Day 4

Today's ride was a fantastic ride from Denver. We started in a northern suburb, and rolled from 104^th street to downtown and out the south end. The paved trail we were on then went 20 miles to a reservoir, and finally up a canyon. We turned around at 50 miles out, at the top of a 7-mile climb! It was hot and windy, a good test of resources. The ride up the canyon was a easier because we had a tailwind, but the headwind detracted from the ride back down. Awesome views and a killer workout.

The time of the year around the Tour de France is always amazing. This is a special time of year because it is right in the middle of the triathlon season, the culmination of many months of fitness training, and the temperature is hot. Right now my body seems like it can do anything I push it through, similar to Lance. His training and riding is an inspiration. I train so that in my own way I can be like him. Each person can and should do this in their own way. I coach and am friends with lots of people who put time and energy into training. I hope it is a tiny bit as rewarding to everyone else as it is to me.

I am like Lance in another way, too. I am ready for this ordeal to be over. I have 230 miles cycling, 33 miles running, and 1200 yards swimming. and it is only Thursday. I am going to take a huge recovery after this week. I only have a couple more challenges coming: mountain biking and rock climbing. I am so excited to compare these to what we have in Columbia. I'm sure it will stack up well.

A major coup was scored today when I visited the Pier 1 Imports for a present for Lisa, my wife. I am so excited to see her this Sunday and miss her during my training on the road.

Day 5

Thursday was supposed to be a fun day, and it started out that way. I woke up late at Youngblood's house, and everybody in the house had left for work already. I did my favorite activity; sat around in my boxers and ate cold cereal while watching television. Mr. Rogers was on. His warm voice was calmly reassuring:

"I'm really glad that we get to spend this time together. (Stands up and takes sweater off.) We learned lots of new things today, didn't we? Just remember to look inside yourself, and you will find good stuff inside. (Puts on white shoes) We'll see each other again soon, and you'll tell me lots of new stories, and I'll tell you new stories too. Bye now. (Waves and exits door of playhouse)."

As the trolley of Fantasyland rolled away, I reflected on what a good friend Mr. Rogers is. I could feel the power inside of myself from his words. I lounged around the house little longer, because I was to depart for Rifle, CO. This is where my childhood friend Wayne lives. He invited me to join his friends for a group off road ride around Rifle. After a quick detour to the pedestrian mall in Boulder for some lunch, I was off to Rifle.

I've done a lot of mountain biking. I own a very nice XC hardtail mountain bike, ideal for almost any riding in the Midwest. I thought I was pretty good at the sport. I was about to get the complete schooling, the thorough ass-whupping that is very good for a person. I went into this off-road ride having no idea whatsoever what I was about to experience.

Rifle is on the Western side of the Rockies, which tends to be quite arid and hot. This is also the location for the now-cancelled off-road Ironman. The off-road ironman was cancelled because the race director waited until about a month ago to arrange for EMT personnel for the event. Unfortunately, they have had a little problem with fires in Colorado and so there aren't any spare EMT's standing around for an off-road Ironman. I think that he had some inkling that it was a good idea to cancel the event, at least I hope he did. I can easily wrap my mind around the notion of an Ironman, I've won one. But this terrain was unreal.

My first clue was when Wayne showed me an extreme biking video. It showed body armor-clad, full facial helmet wearing X-games attending freaks flinging themselves down double and triple sets of stairs, down mountains, off roofs, and through motocross parks. Wayne, four of his friends, and I met to begin the group ride. I quickly noticed that I was the only one there with neither disc breaks nor dual suspension. My fancy XC hardtail was about to be rendered useless. One guy, with a particularly beefy dual suspension bike simply described it as "cross country." Okay.

We started riding out of town, and soon left what passed for a gravel road. While in Rifle, I read in the "New West" newspaper that there was an effort to identify roads in the area before they were forgotten. Missouri roads are bad, but this is ridiculous. Next we were off the road and things went from bad to worse. Imagine riding your bike across a sand beach. Now cover the beach with a maze of tangled, natty scrubs. There were big patches of cacti, boulders, dry creak bed drop-offs, and thorn bushes. We rode uphill through this stuff for over an hour.

The only redeeming quality was the panoramic, movie set-like mountains around us on all sides. I kept thinking to myself, during my suffering, how beautiful the view and happy I was. My front tire slid out and I slammed to the ground, tangled up in my bike.

Thank you bones for not breaking, I thought.

I now realized what a folly it was for me to try to keep up with these guys. Soon we were doing what they considered the "real climbing,"which made Rock Bridge park look like a joke. At least at Rock Bridge, if you fall you aren't going to tumble hundreds of feet down a cliff. I resigned myself to walking anything I didn't feel comfortable on, which meant I was walking quite a bit. Damn the view was beautiful when I stopped trying to keep up. I wondered what Mr. Rogers would have said to me then:

"Even if you can't keep up with those guys, you're special. You don't have to be the best, just try your best. No matter what the outcome, if you try your hardest, than you will be just fine to me."

Two and a half hours of riding around Rifle completely schooled me. I was humbled. Wayne and I ran high school cross country together, and he never showed much inclination or motivation in those days. But he had become a far better athlete than I had ever known him to be. And Ironman fitness does not an off-road rider make. I can't believe that they were going to send triathletes through 112 miles of that kind of riding, 2 laps up and down a cliff (I saw the route), then a marathon through even worse terrain.

But then again, maybe there is something good in biting off more than you can chew. I know next time I ride off-road in Rifle, I will be prepared.