Who Needs the Human Experience?

A friend shared with me the striking imagery of this recent example of religous architecture in spain. The Parish Church of Santa Monica / Vicens & Ramos is both gorgeous and troubling.

Without trying to be too critical, because I deeply applaud the attempt at using modern and contemporary forms in telling the spiritual story, I am once again struck by the lack of reference to the human condition inherent in this project.

I believe all space (especially interior space) should be able to tell a clear and unspoken story to all of it's inhabitants. A story that is immediate and powerful and unambiguous (unless of course the intention is to be ambiguous...but I digress). A story that does not require a thirty minute lecture on the significance of forms, historical context, or concept statements.

Those stories are nice - as stories go - for providing insight or deeper understanding. They are not nice when they are required reading before a entering a building one intends to utilize for anything more than an art history lesson.

This space is beautiful art, abstract and challenging. But what it says about the human experience, or the spiritual experience, seems lost on me like a dissertation in a foreign language.

Eh... who needs the human experience anyways..when we have eye candy like this?

Sigh....

The Magic of Collaboration, Empathy, and Introverts

or maybe not

I am an introvert.

I also consider myself to be a fairly creative person - whether through drawing, painting, composing music, writing, or practicing my profession - interior design, I thrive on creating new things or expressing new ideas.

My introverted nature undoubtedly shapes how I express my own creativity.

At home, I turned my basement into a recording studio - on the off chance that should I desire to write a song, I can develop the entire composition and accompaniment without having to rely on anyone else.

At work, surrounded by a team of incredibly talented individuals, I have to actively and consciously fight my natural instinct to lock myself behind closed doors and crank out single minded solutions.

Often I have trouble sleeping as I have found that my most creative and productive hours are the late nights when the world around me is already asleep.

Even my chosen recreational pastime is an expression of my comfort with solitude. As I train and compete in Ironman triathlons, I spend hundreds of hours a year swimming, running, and cycling isolated from interaction with others.

Thankfully, at least, triathlon has helped with the sleep thing - it's much easier to get some shut eye when you are dead tired, or rather, passed out from exertion.


Collaboration is key!

Despite my own natural tendencies - I am a firm believer that the future of creative discovery does not lie in individual pursuits, but rather in the magic found when minds come together.

The greatest creative discoveries ahead of us will come from people working together. Both directly, and indirectly.

Indirectly, a revolution in collaboration is already happening. The shared resources of technology, networks, open source software, etc....  are devices of our current modern age giving individuals (and introverts like me) the power to create at a global scale.

Even the Nobel Foundation has taken notice and has begun consideration of awarding "teams" for discoveries as opposed to individuals. The world where one lone scientist or innovator single handedly changes the world are over. The challenges are too big, the research periods too long. The Higgs Boson discovery for example required the resources and intellect of thousands of researchers working in concert and across the globe. Teams from as far away as the University of Chicago supported the research efforts at CERN in Geneva, Switzerland.

Instant global collaboration is already changing the way we think, interact, and engage.

I liked the Emmet Swimming version better.

99...10... Luft Balloons.

In 2009 a team from MIT won the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) balloon challenge. Ten balloons were placed in various locations across the U.S. The objective for teams was to identify the longitude and latitude of each of the balloons in the shortest time possibe.

The contest was expected to take seven days. The team from MIT located the balloons in nine hours. Using the power of networks, MIT built a social media juggernaut and leveraged or aggregated an exponentially expanding number of individuals each interested in helping to solve the problem.

Marketers might recognize the tactic of "Multi-Level Marketing".  Author Rob Slee would tell you that this is a prime example of the Aggregation Age - where small packets of diverse effort or information come together at once.



A Facebook to cry on.

What interests me most however is what I believe will be the inverse to the current trend in collaboration - the kind of interactions where two people actually (wait for it...) share the same space and interact, physically and intellectually. I know, it sounds like a far fetched and foreign idea.

Non-linear thinking is driven by empathy, intuition, abductive reasoning....the kinds of basic human responses that are heightened by direct physical interaction. When a close friend shares a sad or tragic story on Facebook - you might genuinely feel for them. If they live in some remote part of the world you are likely extremely grateful for the technology that allows you to share their experience.

None of this however is as powerful as an arm across a shoulder, a hand to hold, a caressing embrace, or even a knowing glance caught from across a room, paired with a heartfelt smile.

Instant digital interactions have taken us to new places, and most certainly made it easier for introverts like myself to interact collaboratively - but remembering our core human traits will unlock a new world of innovation and change rooted in the instinctual magic formed when two or more people work together directly and in physical proximity to one another.



An American introvert in Texas.

This is saying a lot coming from someone who gets their strength from "inner"personal interactions - not "inter"personal ones.

I recently had several experiences that I can share to illustrate the point.

In the span of last couple years I have attended numerous conferences or large networking events. Two conferences, however (in the great cities of Chicago, Illinois and Dallas, Texas), stand out.

These two specific examples are experiences which could not have been more divergent in how they impacted me emotionally or intellectually. Yet, a hint of similarity is hidden within them. Discovering the obscured link required (for me) an emotional investigation, and the unknowing guidance of several incredibly smart, outgoing, and engaging people.



Wrigley from the center field bleachers

...Chicago 2011.
In August of 2011 I attended the national conference for SMPS (the Society of Marketing Professional Services). The conference had outstanding speakers, informational breakout sessions, and motivational discussions and presentations. I truly learned a lot from he scripted presentations and engagements. Where I faltered was in developing interpersonal interactions with the other professionals in attendance.

In alignment with my introverted nature, I shied away from social events, made only brief interactions at get-togethers, and spent most of my time outside of the conference exploring the city on my own.

On the first night of the conference after a brief happy hour within the conference hotel, I jumped ship and grabbed the "L" to catch a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. Other days, I headed out to lake shore drive for 10 and 12 mile runs, One day I visited the Nike store on the Miracle Mile and signed up to run with the Nike Run Club for a seven mile loop through the city. Another morning I found the lake teaming with triathletes preparing for the Chicago International Triathlon. Without hesitation, I went for a mile swim with the wetsuit clad flotsam. I of course did not even have a swim suit much less a wet suit, and had to borrow a pair of swim goggles from a young man prepping for Ironman Louisville scheduled in just a few short days. With all this running I saw a lot of sunrises, and very little (aka. none) of the Chicago nightlife. Nothing a good book couldnt fix - thankfully I brought several.

I was having, what was in my mind, as good a travel experience as can be had. At the same time however I was racked with guilt for not building stronger relationships with those attending the conference (it was a business development conference for christsake), and for the time spent away from home.

While in-flight to Chicago my home town experienced one of the worst earthquakes to hit the east coast of the united states. With my family only a few short miles from the epicenter of the quake, my wife and children were left behind to deal with the damage (although minor), and cleanup. To make matters worse, hurricane Irene showed up off the east coast and was threatening to keep me from returning home on time.

So as any good introvert would do, I re-booked my flight and headed home a few days early. I didnt even have the common courtesy to say goodbye to anyone. I simply up and left.

The conference had been a partial success, though I had failed to make any lasting contacts and relationships. On the other hand I had met an extraordinary variety of other individuals at the Nike Run Club, and on the shores of Lake Michigan, whom I never would have expected to meet or engage. Though here too, I (believed at the time) had failed to turn casual interactions into anything more significant.

The Perot Museum of Nature & Science

...Dallas 2013.
So this brings me to my most recent networking trip to Dallas on behalf of the Virginia chapter of the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) and the Council for Certified Virginia Interior Designers (CCVID). The annual Legislative Symposium was established as a way to learn from and share experiences with interior designers from across the country who are all working towards establishing or protecting some form of legislation related to allowing interior designers access into the regulated building space - the ability to be recognized as a regulated design profession in the eyes of the law and code officials.

My visit began with a familiar introvert trap as I arrived in the afternoon one day in advance of the start of the conference. Excited by the new city around me, I filled that day and late evening exploring my surroundings - visiting the grounds of the newly constructed Perot Museum of Nature and Science, and going for a 13 mile run along the intriguing KT or "Katy" trail. I even enjoyed an excellent tex-mex dinner in a dive restaurant - where I was the only customer. Apparently that part of Dallas (near the American Airlines Center) is a bit slow on non-game nights. If I was not careful however I could feel myself slipping into the comfort zone of isolation.

A game night of course presented the first challenge to my new mission. The Dallas Stars were scheduled to play the first night of the conference - right about the same time as a scheduled happy hour intended to break the ice between conference participants, and introduce a few key individuals from the Texas legislature as well as ASID's new CEO, Randy Fiser.

Watching the crowd pour into the stadium directly across the street from my hotel, and looking down from the 33rd floor windows, I steeled my resolve to not ditch the conference's first social interaction in favor of an ice hockey showdown.

Making sure to keep my eyes off the events outside, I worked the room in as un-awkward a manner as I could muster. I felt foolish, but made up for it by starting conversations with a number of attendees I already knew well. Luckily several colleages from Virginia were also in attendance and allowed me to settle in.  Before long, the afternoon had progressed into an excellent evening - I had met a striking number of new people - and overcame my introverted urge for solitude. Best of all, I had made it through an entire evening of social interaction, not just a few hours at a cocktail party. I could hardly sleep that night as I kept waking to jot notes or outline ideas for a variety of projects.

I spent the next few days trying to meet as many new people as possible - and to not only meet them in a superficial way, but to try and engage more deeply. Thankfully - introversion is not overly common in the interior design world - at least not for the attendees at this particular conference - and I was able to feed off of the engaging, welcoming, outgoing, fun, and lively nature of the inspirational people around me.

Normally this kind of energy would send me running for the door, but I had made a commitment to work it out.

So instead of running out the door -  I found that the inspirations of the others around me charged my creative energy. Closing each night, finally by myself for 3 or 4 hours exploring new ideas, hashing out plans for a current project, or catching up on half written blog posts - like this one. A little alone time becomes a cherished extravagance that you don't wish to waste once you have it all back to yourself.

Alas, for introverts there is only so much engagement one can take in a four day period before it begins to take it's toll.

The unexpected challenge that began as the week wore on and magnified on the last day of the conference was a foreboding sense of inadequacy, fear of being liked or disliked, and all of the other externally charged emotions that haunt an introvert. This was unexpected only in that it had been far too many years since I had last opened myself up in this way. I had forgotten what it was like. The vulnerability and foolish self doubt.

Introverts often are challenged by self image issues - and I am most certainly not immune - often overcompensating with a slight arrogance or false confidence. Thoughts questioning the things I said, the people I had shared time with, the way I had acted, became an overwhelming wave - souring my mood. Did I come off as a jerk, was I too arrogant, too friendly, too critical, too accepting, too brazen, too aloof-passionate-aggressive-self effacing-embarrassing;  too everything and the opposite at the same time. I began to feel as though I was putting on a show, playing a caricature of myself - only one where I beleived myself to be far more charming and smart than I actually am. A disconcerting feeling leaving questions as to why I was putting myself through all this.

Despite the emotional challenges, and self doubt,  I discovered even an introvert can gain a powerful inspirational jolt when they open themselves to the shock of human engagement. Nassim Taleb's highly self-important but insightful opus on "AntiFragility" speaks to this idea of gaining strength, power, or insight by shocking the system - by breaking weakness to reveal greater strength. The creative fury that blossomed on my trip - and led to a mere 8 hours sleep across three days - was almost recklessly powerful. My mood change of course was likely due as much to a lack of sleep as it was to anything else.

Even looking back to the referenced 2011 experience, there were any number of insightful human engagements that inspired me - only instead of inspiring my professional aspirations, they turned out to be at the root of my desire to tackle the Ironman triathlon in 2012. It only took opening my eyes and heart to the inspirations to realize their impact.

Ragnar Relay Team September 2012.
One of the few times times each year where I regularly push
my introverted nature.

Ivert-rovert.

I will never change the make-up of who I am and where I naturally find strength. I can however challenge myself to engage - to shock my system to gain unexpected strength. To invert my introverted nature (within limits) to open myself up to new experiences and perspectives.

Introverts of course come primed with one very special and unique gift. Many of us are highly perceptive - inward looking people. This inward exploration and self criticism can at times be harmful, but can also be made useful and positive when turned to the collaborative process. Powerful solutions benefit from the kind of inward criticism that can lead to validation of ideas, positive itteration, and elimination or ejection of misaligned ideas, processes, components or actions.

By focusing on the great inspirational and insightful benefit that comes from empathic human engagement and collaboration, even an introvert can grow to see that the greatest successes ahead will come from shared experiences and collaboration.

Bring on the collaboration age - only don't forget to do so with the support of actual people and direct interactions.

(Now if only I were interacting with people instead of writing this post!)

cg.

Empowered Decision Making

The hallmark of a great organization lies in how it empowers its employees to make the right decisions. Without it, decision making grinds to a halt, creativity is stifled, and the ability to respond to fast changing business environments is severely impaired.

The great challenge in empowerment is in how you give individuals the tools to make the right decisions, or even have the confidence that they should be the one to act.

The right tools begins with having the right team, a group of committed and responsible players who you can trust. Once that is established, the next step is to give them knowledge to be able to have autonomy over their role within the organization. The last and perhaps most subjective component is to give team members the ability to weigh what kind of decisions they should take ownership of, and which decisions require a broader coalition or greater authority.

A few years ago, I read a fantastic little book titled “Why can’t we get anything done around here?”
In it the authors, Robert Lefton and Jerome Loeb, present a great tool for helping team members assign tasks. By assigning Gold stars, Yellow and Red Flags, and or a "Big D" for discipline - team members can utilize this tool to identify tasks which they are perfectly suited for, may need assistance with, or simply require them to get down to business.

I realized that this same tool can be modified to help individuals assess what kinds of decisions are perfectly suited for them to make, require additional authority or a bigger coalition, or simply should be left to management.

Helping individuals clarify the decision making process can be the single greatest step in empowering an organization.

See below for an example of what an empowered decision making matrix looks like and see if it can apply to your team and organization.

Ironman Florida - Video Recap

The last few weeks since completing Ironman Florida I have focused on getting some rest - a lot of sleep - and fitting in a reduced workout schedule.

I also took some time to compile the third and final entry in a video series tracking my progress as I trained for Ironman Florida.

Enjoy!

http://youtu.be/3UORhH1GOY0




Previous Videos:

Part 2: http://cgooddesign.blogspot.com/2012/06/road-to-ironman-part-2.html

Part 1: http://cgooddesign.blogspot.com/2012/03/road-to-ironman-part-1.html

Ironman Florida

November 3, 2012

Note: A special note of thanks to the Fredericksburg Triathlon Club (Tri-fred) and Coach Debi Bernardes for the training and inspiration to become an Ironman!

http://ucandoitcoach.com/

http://www.tri-fred.com/

"YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!"

  

Preface

The morning after Ironman Florida, I sat on the balcony of my hotel watching the athletes walking their bikes and gear up and down South Thomas drive. I felt great with only a little soreness in my quads. The sun was shining, a cool breeze was blowing, and the day seemed surrealistically perfect. At that moment I was struck by the weight of the realization of what I had accomplished the day prior and more significantly the fleeting fragility of that moment in time.

The calm before the storm in Panama City Beach.

Seventeen hours may not seem like the most fleeting of moments, but in the scale of everything that goes into preparing for and executing an Ironman, it is an instant. A very painful, nervous, and tentative instant.

 After all the preparation, training, and logistics of the last twelve months, everything about that day boiled down to one moment. A moment that without warning or reason, and certainly beyond any one person’s control, could spell success or disaster. Wind, heat, equipment malfunctions, lost transition bags, crashes, illness. Thinking of these things is the reason you pack and repack bike gear bags…three times. Or why you justify buying more CO2 cartridges and spare tubes than you can conceivably carry on your bike. It’s also why you agonize over which pair of shoes you will take on the run, switching them out every couple hours up until you are forced to drop them off in the safety of some random volunteer’s hands.  Except…you don’t trust the very nice volunteer, so you follow them over to the bag drop-off and double check their counting skills. Then you re-position the bag when they aren’t looking because you want the race number to not be wrinkled and easier to read.



So what did I forget?

Over here, not over there.

And the red bags go where?

“Stay inside yourself”. “Be in your box”. “You cannot control the circumstances you will face on race day, only your response to them”. These are the motto's you repeat to yourself as you drop off your bike, and bags, and gear after all the countless hours and hours of work and preparation. Only they aren’t countless…. I counted every damn last one of them.

Workouts from January 1 to November 2: Three Hundred and Forty Two.

Total hours: 679

Total miles: 3,887

                Run - 939 Miles

                Swim – 110 Miles

                Bike – 2,838 Miles

My nervous energy was building as the race approached so staying in my box would have to wait until race morning, and uncontrollable circumstances were already becoming a slight pain in the ass several weeks out from race day.

 A week long business trip to Portland Oregon three weeks prior to the race left me with a middle ear infection. The air pressure changes during my connecting flights pushed a mild sinus infection deep into my ears with head exploding force. As much as I had tried to keep up with training during my trip (getting up at 4am to run and ride the stationary bike before starting work at 7:00am) I had not been able to get access to a pool during my entire visit to Portland. Now with the ear infection it would be another week and a half before I would swim again. When improvement didn’t come soon enough, I went against Debi’s advice to stay out of the pool. Tripled up swim caps made due at the “Y” so I could get back in the water. To my surprise, and possibly due to the buoyancy of “Joseph’s Technicolor Layered Swim Caps”, I think I had my best swim all year. Maybe the missed time at the pool wasn’t as bad as I had feared.

Things were looking good.

Two rounds of antibiotics, and several types of decongestant later, I was back on the mend as we arrived in Panama City Beach. Things outside my control were not going to stop me this close to race day.

Race Week

After the fifteen hour drive to Florida I wasted no time getting in a few quick rides and runs. I was out the door and on my bike with a flood of other athletes within an hour of parking the van. Anxious to stretch my legs I hardly stopped to unpack anything except my bike gear. I kissed my wife, told her I’d be back in an hour to join her for a run around the venue, and shot out the door. Once on the road the first thing I took stock of was the wind. Wednesday before the race, our arrival day, it was cranking about 16 to 20 MPH and the gusts were driving me off my line and all over the road. I had heard the wind could be rough, but this was more than I expected. To hell with not controlling my situation – if it was going to be windy, I was going to fix it. So I broke the first rule of racing and bought brand new gear for race day. Thursday morning I swung by the expo and came across a discounted aero helmet in my size. I pounced on it. If not for the wise and disapproving look on my wife’s face, a new set of wheels may have also been in the works. Thankfully there are limits to my stupidity, and thankfully Cori lets me know when I am on the edge of crossing those thresholds.

The Magic Helmet.

Athlete check-in and expo.

To offset breaking the rules of smart racing, I made sure to get in at least one ride in the new helmet. It fit great, was a little bit hot inside, but even if it did nothing else it made me feel fast. Magic fast. Of course it also helped that the wind had practically disappeared overnight. Magic helmets can apparently control the weather.

If magic helmets can control the wind, magic wetsuits should part the gulf. Unfortunately on my first test swim the wetsuit bore no magic, no parting seas for me. Getting in a short swim Thursday afternoon did however alleviate my fears of swimming in the surf. A little bit salty and undulating, but nothing like I feared…as long as the jellyfish and sharks stayed at bay.

Things were looking really good.

This ocean thing ain't so bad.

By the time my bike and all my gear had been packed in the various gear and special needs bags all I had left to do was relax.

At the expo there was a bin of free DVD’s from the 2001 Ironman World Championships. Not wanting to pass up freebies, I grabbed one and with nothing to do on Friday I camped out in my hotel room and put the disc on while my wife hit the beach to get some time away from my nervous anxiety. An hour and a half of unexpected tears later, our trip roommates Laura and Rob Allen started joking that I would need to re-hydrate to make up for the lost electrolytes. I didn’t think the joke was funny and started downing extra water and salt pills.

The look of fear.

Little did I know the uncontrollable watering eyes wouldn’t end there. Race morning on the beach as they let us into the starting corral, during the national anthem, and entering the water for the first time my emotional state was highly questionable, and my face was streaked with the tell-tale signs. Sharing the beach with three thousand other nervous and anxious bodies was not helping. When Mirinda Carfrae stopped in front of me before entering into the swim start – much to the awe and delight of the others standing around us – all I managed to say was “She looks short”. I was clearly not impressed, and partially questioning the sanity of Carfrae and everyone else within a mile radius. After a long wait on the beach, packed in behind neoprene clad shoulders, the cannon for the age groupers fired, the waves crashed forward, the salt hit my face and I was diving into the surf.

Things were looking highly suspect – but hell or high water this shit was on!

Mirinda Carfrae is not so tough. 

Race Start

For all my fears about the swim, it turns out the swim was simply awesome. After clearing out from the pack in the first 100 meters I found a clear spot and settled into a very comfortable pace. Swimming behind others feet only managed to get me swum up on from behind, so I took on the tactic of swimming around everyone I came upon. It probably cost me some time swerving and dodging around, but it seemed easier than fighting off other swimmers from behind. The first turn came along before I expected it, and before I knew it the first lap of the swim was over and it felt completely effortless. I almost felt as if I could have pushed much-much harder – then I remembered I still had over a hundred and thirty eight more miles to go. Backing off a little I settled into what was probably one of the easiest swimming paces I had available. Essentially a four or five stroke breathing pattern depending on if I needed to breathe on both sides to avoid splashing or waves. As a newbie in the swimming world, this is a far more relaxed breathing pattern than I typically use in the pool - usually three strokes if I am really-really lucky, more often than not in the pool I am breathing with every stroke. Maybe the wetsuit had a little magic in it after all. Coming out of the water I took it easy in the crowd up to the first transition – getting peeled and rinsed off before heading in to change.

 Swim 1 hour 19 minutes. Well ahead of my goal of 1:30.

Things were looking better than I could have hoped. Time to ride.

Ready. Set.

Go.

The Bike

The first few miles of the bike were congested, but I took it easy, got in some calories, avoided the draft packs, watched other racers get red flagged and kept my heart rate in check. Once the race cleared out I settled in for a great first half of my ride. The wind was at my back – certainly due to the magic helmet – and other than a few restroom stops the ride was going very smooth.

Going into the race I was convinced I would save time by peeing off the bike. Try as I might, I could not command my systems to respond – so I spent a fair amount of time at the port-o-johns. Probably all for the better as I didn’t feel nearly as guilty handing my bike off to the volunteers after the ride. Before I get too far ahead of myself there was still plenty of riding left to do, and it was starting to get hot.

The heat and wind picked up in the second half of the ride, reaching the low 80’s by midday. I was well on target for my hydration and nutrition plan – despite losing my salt pills in my T-1 bag and a few GU’s out of my tri-top pockets along the way (things I made up for by over packing my special needs bags). At each exchange I ate a banana and replaced a bottle of water and bottle of perform. Doing the math I counted out 21 bottles that made it onto my bike, half water - half Perform. About a third of the water went into my helmet to cool off, and at least one bottle of Perform got ditched because it had no lid and splashed all over me. Other than that, I was hydrating really well and taking in a good mix of calories as food as well as drink. With that much fluid running through me stopping at the port-o-johns at just about every other aid station became my primary driver.  “Just 10 more miles then I get to pee”.  I really hate the sensation of having to pee while crouched into the aero position.

At the first special needs station I made up for my lost salt pills back in T-1 by downing six pills and a bottle of Perform, along with a frozen Snickers bar I packed in ice. Even after the whole day in the sun, the Snickers was still cold and just slightly firm from having been frozen – perfect! With half the bike complete in about three hours, I knew I was on my goal pace and didn’t need to push it. When the headwinds picked up I backed off and took it easy on the last few miles of rollers approaching mile 100.

In all my previous training and other group rides I had never passed the 100 mile mark. In Florida mile 100 is on the backside of a bridge crossing over West Bay. Approaching the bridge I was equally excited about surpassing my longest ride as I was about getting a chance to spin up one of the few hills on the course.

Things didn’t look like they could get any better.

When everything is going good - that’s when you find yourself faced by those challenges you can’t control.

Starting up the bridge I shifted into the small chain ring to avoid mashing my way up and raising my heart rate (having been steady in the upper end of zone 1, which for me is about 148bpm). The harsh clunking sound reached my ears about the moment I realized the pedals were jammed tight. My first though was a dropped chain, so I coasted off the side of the road at the foot of the bridge. I dismounted and took stock of the situation. The chain was still on the small chain ring in the front, and looked fine in the back. I tried to spin the pedals and the entire rear derailleur bound up and clanked to a halt. I realized this was not good and after a few more tries of fussing with the chain and the derailleur I looked around for help. Salvation! A motorcycle was on the side of the road helping another cyclist. I ran about 50 meters with the bike to discover that this was not a bike tech but rather a course marshal having a not so pleasant conversation with another competitor. I didn’t know what they were discussing and the frantic look on my face pretty much stopped their conversation. The athlete took off and up the hill over the bridge and the two motorcycle marshals asked me what I needed.

112 miles.

With the help of the marshal holding my bike, I managed to get the chain back onto the large chain ring and shift the gears into place. The pedals were turning, but making a clunking sound. I tried to shift, and everything locked up again. The motorcycle driver looked at me and essentially said “you should stop shifting” to which I started to say “No Shit”, thankfully I restrained myself. Once I realized I could get the bike at least moving again, I thanked the two motorcycle marshals and they took off with an enthusiastic “get that guy” to flag down a rider on the wheel of another athlete on their way up the bridge. I mashed my way up the hill in the large chain ring, standing on the pedals and finished out the ride in the one gear I could keep the chain locked onto. Within a few miles I realized how much worse my day could have been when I passed a bike seat sitting in the road still attached to the stem and a pair of water bottles still in their cages. I found out later it belonged to some poor girl who had to finish the entire ride standing in her pedals. I don’t know how that happens…I don’t want to know how that happens…

Things could be looking a hell of a lot worse.

(11/10/12) Note: The bike malfunction turned out to be a broken chain. One link was busted and getting hung up in the rear derailleur. Discovered this on my first ride one week after the race, nearly found myself walking home from King George County. Special thanks to Old Towne Bicycles for the replacement.)

The Run

At T2 I handed off my bike, made a quick change into my running shoes and compression socks and headed out the door. I felt great but within a mile realized my stomach was not happy. Approaching the first aid station I simply could not will myself to take anything. Suddenly the thought of eating any of the five GU’s I had tucked in my back pocket made me wretch. I shuffled through the first six miles with strong legs but an increasingly upset stomach. At mile six I decided I needed some form of calories and opted to try a coke. Previous to this race I have never tried on-course coke, or broth, or any of the other miracle elixirs. The thought usually grossed me out. After my fist swig of flat coke however I was a convert. I continued a mix of water and coke at each aid station from there forward - increasingly feeling better mile after mile. Thankfully my legs felt strong. If not for my stomach my run may have challenged my current marathon PR. My legs simply felt unstoppable. If only I could get my gut right, and fight off the humid and rapidly cooling air which was creating a foul sensation in my lungs restricting me to short breaths. A sensation made all the more acute as I passed increasing numbers of other athletes on the side of the road with dry heaves.

The turnaround at mile 13 was extremely rough. With finishers headed one way and me headed off for a second loop it was easy to get discouraged. The sight of Cori was a huge boost even if all I managed was a grunt of acknowledgement. Within half a mile if the turnaround i was greeted by a very enthusiastic volunteer who chased me down to tell me that we shared the same coach. The uniform gave me away. He was super supportive and ran along side me for nearly a quarter mile telling me about his Ironman successes. He was awesome. As were the thousands of other volunteers, each one went out of their way to be outstanding. One of the sunscreen folks even let me wipe condensation off my sunglasses on their t-shirt before the bike. Whoever you are dude, you rock!

As darkness fell I started taking in the warm chicken broth, oranges, grapes, and more coke. I could feel my queasiness starting to recede, I was definitely feeling better though my overall energy was now starting to fade slightly. At mile 17, finally starting to feel like my inner runner was back, I challenged myself to maintain my pace and finish the last 9 miles without any walking. Up until 17 I had only walked the aid stations. My pace suffered a little but I succeeded – no walking even at the aid stations for the last six or so miles.

A great start to the run.

The last stretch of the race was nearly completely in the dark. With the sun having fallen my prescription sunglasses were now perched atop my head making my vision as blurry as it was dark. I used this time to focus entirely on what I needed to do to get my ass across the line. It was somewhat nice not being able to see anything or anyone around me but the blurry illumination of glow sticks and the sound of shuffling feet. I actually think those last six miles were my favorite part of the entire race. Complete darkness, just me and the road. No outside stimulus but the sound of my breathing, my feet hitting the pavement, and the knowledge that while I was not alone, nothing outside myself would get in my way. I was shutting out the surrounding world as I narrowed in on the goal of finishing and perhaps even running a sub 5 hour marathon.

Feeling great at Mile 1.

No so great at mile 13.

Things were looking like my best miles were still ahead of me.

As the last mile of the run slowly approached, I picked up my pace and began to wonder why I felt so good. Perhaps I should have ran harder, maybe I should have pushed a faster pace back at mile 21 or 18? Within a few steps I realized these were the delusional thoughts of a somewhat unstable mind. The cheering crowd and the sight of my wife and friends near the finish propelled me along, and the words I had waited to hear confirmed what I had done. I was an Ironman.

My finishing time was 13 hours 9 minutes.

I had just missed the sub 5 hour marathon, and/or breaking the 13 hour mark, however I had hit my predicted goal time right on the money.

After a quick shower and a long slow walk to and from the hotel, we gathered back at the finish line with my wife and our friends Laura and Rob, Laura having just finished the race not long after me, and we cheered on the last finishers through midnight.

After all the emotions prior to the race, I was somewhat emotionless at my own finish. Perhaps too exhausted to get worked up. But watching the last few finishers sneak in before midnight is the clear highlight of the entire day. It definitely puts everything into perspective, especially when you start to think about the unfortunate few who did not make the cut off. Getting a little misty eyed at hour seventeen just seems to feel right.

  

Almost there.

This is my happy face. Sort-of.

Results and eerie math.

Back in June when I started training I predicted an estimated finish time by establishing a goal pace for each section of the race.

Swim Goal Pace – 2:10 /100m                     Est. Time: 1:37:18

Bike Goal Pace – 17.5 mi/h                           Est. Time: 6:24:00

Run Goal Pace – 11:00 /mi                            Est. Time: 4:48:12

With transitions that worked out to an estimated goal time of 13:10.30

My actual splits were as follows:

Actual Swim Pace – 2:04 /100m                  Act. Time: 1:19:50

Actual Bike Pace – 17.46 mi/h                     Act. Time: 6:24:50

Actual Run Pace – 11:36 /mi                        Act. Time: 5:03:58

Final Actual Time: 13:09:03

Nailed it!

Some more triathlon nerd info for those inclined to hear it:

Coach Debi said that your predicted Ironman time is your best half Ironman multiplied by two with an hour added. I have also heard her say that your predicted Ironman run is your marathon time with an hour added.

Here is some eerie math for you.

My best (only) 70.3 race was at Patriots Half in Williamsburg..

My time: 6:03:48

x2 +1hr = 13:07:36 (Accurate Debi prediction within two minutes.)

My best marathon is currently 4:03:21 (we are gonna fix that)

+1hr = 5:03:21 (Accurate Debi prediction within 37 seconds)

It’s over

When the race is complete the story rarely ends there. There is the two hour wait to spend all your money at the finisher store. If you are like me and buy the wrong gender finisher jacket, you get to wait in the line twice to exchange it. You also have the joy of hauling your gear and luggage out of the hotel with several thousand other people all trying to cram bikes into a passenger elevator. And of course if you travelled on the road, you have the delirium of the fifteen hour drive home.

Is that a woman's jacket you're wearing?

Sometimes after a day in the car, the day after a thirteen hour workout, your brain starts to fail you, and the patience of all the loved ones who supported you through this endeavor starts to wear thin. Stopping at a McDonalds for a restroom stop and some food, I was not feeling 100%. All I wanted was a coke and an Egg McMuffin. Only my words didn’t match my thinking. When my wife Cori asked what I wanted and I replied, she gave me a frustrated look in response. A short silence then became, “I’m not ordering that – you are on your own” and she walked off to find the restrooms. I was incredulous. WTF! I know I had been a pain in the ass for the last week, but now was no time to get pissy. I too walked off to find a restroom and upon returning to meet Cori in front of the counter she again asked what I wanted. I responded with the same request I made previously – this time to the witness of the cashier. Cori turned and walked away leaving me with the cashier, who also gave me a curious look.

These people are crazy.

I love my wife, probably more now than ever before in our nearly ten years or marriage, because I know what kind of crap I put her through and she is always there. This trip as an example was entirely orchestrated and planned by her. It was more smooth than my training could ever have hoped to be, and she sacrificed work and family commitments (including missing Halloween with our kids) to make this happen. She deserves an award for simply bearing my presence much less all the other things she does for me and our family. But what kind of alternate reality is this. The cashier is still staring at me, my wife has walked over to the entrance to distance herself from me, and I think the folks in the back of the line are starting to become an angry mob.

The cashier finally speaks to me. “All you want is two cokes…and an English muffin?”

 “Yes”…for crying out loud. That is all I want!

Why is this so hard to understand?

He rings me up, and I am somewhat confused. The total cost is about three dollars. I don’t question it openly, but believe I have somehow discovered some secret low cost trick to ordering from McDonalds. Perhaps it was some kind of discount password – or the fact that I did not order a pre marketed meal?

I’m starting to feel somewhat pleased with myself. I might even gloat when I get back to the van! I’ll show her!

The cashier hands me my two drink cups, and a few seconds later a small bag appears and is handed to me. As I reach out to take it I am struck by the low weight of the package, and further confused by the employee who hands me “One Plain English Muffin”.

Something was starting to make sense.

I had not been belligerently ordering an “Egg McMuffin” as I believed.

I ordered a goddamn plain “English Muffin”.

I tear the package open at the counter and stare in at two lightly toasted halves of an English muffin. Plain. Nothing on it. Near weightless in the bag.

I look up to see my wife’s face. Cori is on the verge of dying with laughter.

She is crying giant tears and her face has gone beet red. “Is that not what you wanted?” she asked.

I refused to answer. I marched out the door, sat in the van and ate my freaking plain, nothing on it, lightly toasted English muffin… and I enjoyed it.

Great family.

& great friends.

Sometimes a little humility is in need after the accomplishment of something on the scale of an Ironman. With any luck me and my plain English muffin learned a valuable lesson that may make my next Ironman challenge a little bit easier to swallow.

Patriots Half Ironman Distance Triathlon

September 08, 2012

Had a great time at Patriots despite the heat. Im totally cooked, but did ok.

Swim was a little crazy. In the haze and chop I really had no idea where I was swimming. Without my glasses on I only have about 100 yards of useful vision anyway so I pretty much never saw any of the turn buoys until I was right on top of them.

The first buoy being so close to shore was a bit of chaos as everyone arrived at nearly the same time. A lot of wasted energy in the first few minutes avoiding getting pounded.

I'm a bit disappointed with the swim results. Felt that if I had a better sense of where I was going I could have focused more on a strong swim. Did not swim as well as I felt I could have - had a lot left in me as I came in for the final stretch.

The bike was a great example of my typical method of learning....by making really dumb mistakes.

The ride was great, I was in a really good zone and was plugging away until the first water bottle exchange.

I tried to finish off a bottle so I could toss it away. While I was chugging the last few drops, the guy in front of me stopped short to get to the very first bottle hand off.

I threw on the front brake with my unoccupied left hand and just barely swerved around him and missing other riders.

Of course applying only the front brake (one handed) resulted in the most excellent trick of being thrown over my bike after over correcting.

Lesson 1:

Don't be greedy - toss the bottle. Your getting another.

Lesson 2:

The folk in front of you are idiots. They like to stop unannounced when they miss the first in a line of several extended hands filled with identical water bottles.

Lesson 3:

Tailgating idiots into the water exchange makes you a bigger idiot.

Thankfully after hitting the deck I escaped with only a few minor scratches. I was really really lucky.

My bike too was quite lucky. It slid on the its side some way and scraped up the right pedal and tore off all the bar tape off my right pursuit bar. But other than that it was pretty much good to go. So I sorted myself out and cranked out the rest of the ride. Had a pretty great ride other than the crash. I was a few minutes off my goal of getting under 3hrs - but I escaped major injury so I'll take it.

The run sucked.

Getting off the bike I was amazed how good I felt. My legs were so fresh. In fact my legs were the only good thing my run had going for it. My legs felt strong the entire run, and when I got into a little trouble my legs were the only thing I had going for me.

The run started fine, but by mile 1 my stomach was a mess. As soon as the sun broke the clouds and the heat instantly turned on I started to get nauseous. I was pretty much sick for the first 5 miles.

Just before the turn around at 6 things got better. My stomach settled and I picked up the pace.

Felt pretty good for about 3 or 4 miles then the heat really got to me. I don't think I became dizzy, but I was definitely lightheaded, and my hands got all tingly like they were starting to fall asleep.

I probably should have stopped, but my logic said, hey you've got to get to the finish somehow, might as well be running.

The last 2 miles sucked like nothing else has sucked before, but I held a respectable pace and finished with everything I had left.

In the end I finished 3 minutes over my goal of breaking 6 hrs.


I'm beginning to think I have some sort of 3 minute curse. My last few marathons have all been 4:03 as I have tried to break 4hrs.

 

I may have to do some voodoo to release me of this mystical misfortune, or just not fall off my bike next time.

The Road to Ironman - Part 2

June marks the end of my self-led training schedule.
In a few short weeks I begin training with the Tri-Fred Ironman Training Team coached by Debi Bernardes.

With over 1100 miles under my belt (500 Running, 600 Cycling & 35 Swimming), it's time to pick up the pace!

I will post again soon with a final update before Novembers race.

Chris is a long distance runner, triathlete and devoted husband and father. He is also Principal and Vice President at KSA Interiors, an award winning interior design firm located in Glen Allen Virginia