One of the best things about the Fox Cities Triathlon Club is the strong drive to share triathlon with newbies. While most triathletes love bringing new people into the sport, the Tri Foxes offers Tri 101. This annual program brings together first timers, experienced racers, coaches, mentors, and training sessions to prepare people for their first race.
Since our first timers haven't yet reached triathlon maturity, we refer to them as "Tri Kits" instead of Tri Foxes.
This year, I helped mentor Jesse. Truth be told, Jesse paid pretty close attention through the training classes, received swim instruction from some experienced and qualified coaches, and had plenty of prior bike experience. I provided a bit of general guidance and moral support. Jesse followed the training plan and showed up ready to race on June 20th. Well, almost.
 If I remember correctly, Jesse showed up at transition around 6 a.m. He was delayed by one of those situations we all fear. His bike had flatted out, and he realized he was out of spare tubes. He decided to head to the race, hoping one of the bike shops would have a maintenance tent. Nobody did.
He got in a good warm-up running all over the place trying to find someone with a tube he could have. We never crossed paths, but he eventually found Mark, who wasn't racing. Mark had the spare Jesse needed, and they were able to get the bike ready to go with about five minutes to spare before the start of the race.
The picture above shows Jesse getting marked up for the race. The guy in the yellow shirt in the background is Mark. Mark is a huge force in the Tri Foxes for reasons just like this. He is always there to help out fellow triathletes.
 Our paths did manage to cross just before the start of the race. Jesse's wife took this great picture of us ready to go. This is just after I took care of my own last minute "freak out" issue of a leaking ear plug. More on that when I post my race report.
The sprint starts were after all the half distance waves, so Jesse had an opportunity to calm down a bit from the bike issue. He used that time to wonder about the water conditions, as he'd heard the conditions were a bit rough.
Jesse reported he got through the swim like most everybody else. He floundered his way through like everyone else. The reports he'd heard were accurate. While there were no whitecaps on the lake, there were huge swells the entire morning. One of the pros admitted in a news article that he had almost called it quits during the swim.
Jesse got caught on the very inside of the turn, wrestled with the bouy, and made it back the the swim exit in about 6:36. Not bad for a quarter-mile swim. Faster than me, anyway.
 Jesse headed up the hill to T1, hopped on the bike, and headed out for his ride. His biggest concern for the bike was low tire pressure. I pointed out (after the race) that he probably had more pressure than he thought as the temperature increased a great deal. He completed the bike portion in 1:09, another great performance. After a short transition, he headed out on the run.
In addition to being Jesse's first triathlon, this race exposed him to his first trail running. Several areas of the trail had him concerned because of tricky footing. More than one triathlete has taken a tumble along the course, so his concerns were valid. He made it through with no issues, and completed the run with "time to spare."
His second goal, after finishing, was to come in under two hours. His official time was 1:51:25. And he said he wasn't completely exhausted. Apparently he had a little bit more available to give, so knows what he might be able to accomplish in his next race.
Jesse is no longer a "Tri Kit." He's now an official triathlete and fully grown Tri Fox. He's already looking at a couple of races in the coming weeks and months. Congratulations, Jesse!
Well, it's here. The High Cliff half-Ironman is tomorrow. It should be interesting.
From an aerobic standpoint, I'm probably as ready as I could ever hope. After marathon turned ultramarathon training, long workouts are not an issue. I should be good to go the distance.
Speed is another issue. Last week's Bellin 10K was completed in a 45:15, well below my target. Of course, after months of distance training, the ONE speed session was obviously insufficient training for a sub-42 race. This weekend will be little different. I am confident of two things. First, I'll finish. Second, I'll finish well behind the leaders, and most likely behind my half-IM PR.
Race day looks to be beautiful, though. Despite my "gloom and doom" predictions of temperatures over 100F, the high is predicted to be around 80F. I should miss that, even if it takes me until 1 p.m. to finish. And it looks to be fairly clear, with little chance of rain.
The good news is that the blister on the bottom of my foot is pretty well healed. Last night, the last of the dead skin came off. That eases my concerns about how my feet will hold up on the run. Since I got a couple small blisters on the toes of my other foot during the Bellin Run, I'll be looking at shoes, socks, and other factors. In 10 years of running thousands of miles, I never had a single blister until the last two races.
Bothersome, to say the least.
Finally, I have a special request to fulfill during the race. Iron Wil has asked that I spit on a particular rocky stretch of the run. The poor footing caused her to slip and fall when she ran this race in 2007. I promised to help her carry on the grudge match.
I know, it's been a while. Because of that, I'll refund everyone's dues for the month of June. Keep an eye out for those reimbursements.
In addition to being busy, I wanted to keep the Run for Ron Charity event at the top of the page. The donation link is still in my profile, and I hope you'll consider making a donation.
With just two weeks left until the High Cliff half-Ironman, I'm a bit concerned about race day conditions. Rumor has it we're supposed to train like we race. If that's the case, I hope it's rainy, windy, and cold enough to make snow a real possibility over the rain. Because that's about all I've been training in, lately.
Though it's been tough commuting to work, I managed one such ride May 28th. It was in the mid-40s the entire trip in, with a headwind and rain. When I left the house, I had on my running tights with tri-shorts, a long sleeve jersey over my tri top, and gloves. I was concerned with what I would do when I got to warm.
As if...
Late in the ride I became more concerned with how I was going to change a flat tire with frozen hands. Apparently the answer is, "Not very well." I barely avoided blowing my last spare tube when I inflated it with part of the tube outside the tire. Thankfully, I did have one more CO2 cylinder than tubes.
It was somewhat better after work as I headed to a bike shop near the office to replace tubes and CO2. Two minutes down the road I felt my foot slipping and figured I'd broke one of my cleats. I "uncleated," looked down to see what was wrong with the cleat, and wondered where my pedal had gone. All that was left was the shaft of my Speedplay. Luckily, I found the pedal still in my cleat.
At the bike shop, I was able to replace the tubes, CO2 cylinders, and properly inflate my tire. The weren't able to provide much help with the pedal, so I pushed it on and biked home hoping nothing else would go wrong.
Obviously, the wind had changed direction and I had the same headwind going home as I had going to work. And home is uphill.
Saturday, I went out for my final long ride prior to the race. I hoped to get in 60 miles. When the rain started five minutes after I started, I shook my fist at the heavens to show my determination to stand up to the elements.
By the way, our high temp on Saturday was 53F. That was the temperature at midnight as the temps fell through 50s into mid-40s territory, which is where they were at during my windy, rainy ride. Fortunately this time, I only had a headwind in one direction.
So far, this year, only one of my rides has been in temperatures any warmer than 50F. Most have been in the rain.
I am fairly confident that race day will be sunny, windy (during the swim and bike), and somewhere around 100 degrees. I will burst into flames somewhere around mile 45 of the bike. Luck will be with me as the wind prevents the flames from totally engulfing me.
That luck, and the wind, will die as soon as I step off the bike. It is most likely I will spend the entire half marathon dumping cups of water onto my head to douse the fire as I continue to deal with spontaneous combustion.
Still, I will be there. I will race. I will have fun. And perhaps, just perhaps, I'll live up to my expectations.
Not on that list, however, is a PR at the event. The last time I raced here, I was a few short months away from Ironman and in a far different place.
The Run for Ron 50-mile ultramarathon is in the books. It was a long, painful book, but it's complete. There are, of course, stories and lessons that come with any major endurance event.
My first ultramarathon was a 40-miler in conjunction with the Fox Cities Marathon, last year. That was basically a round trip, with the last 26 miles being the actual marathon. My second ultra was the Fall 50, a point-to-point run through Door County, Wisconsin (Gil's Rock to Sturgeon Bay).
This run gave new meaning to the theory of running in circles. I started just after 3 a.m. from Lambeau Field, home of the Green Bay Packers. It was somewhere around 33F and windy, so I opted to wear running tights, two shirts over my tri top, and gloves. As most ultrarunners can tell, starting a run by yourself in the dark of night can be a truly lonely experience.
I can't say enough about the race director and his crew, as the course was extremely well marked, even that early in the morning. Signs, painted arrows, and aid stations helped me stay on the right roads. There were no cars on the roads, and my safety lights were almost overkill.
After about two hours, I was back in the parking lot of Lambeau Field with 13 miles completed. The trunk of my car was a personal aid station, complete with fuel, Gatorade and extra gear. I removed one of the extra shirts, refilled my bottles, and headed back to the starting line for the second loop.
There was a good deal more "company" on the second lap, with more cars on the road, runners starting to head to the race, and volunteers setting up aid stations. The second lap was also easier because I had already run it and knew the route a bit better. I also knew where each of the porta-johns was located, so I could judge when to stop for potty breaks.
The second lap, only 11 miles, took a bit less time, and I made my second return to Lambeau just after 7 a.m. I stopped at the car for my gear check bag, made a bunch of changes (ditched the tights, removed the second long sleeve shirt, and restocked my fuel), and met up with a co-worker and another friend who would be supporting some of us along the course. Leaving her with a bag of M&Ms (emergency fuel), I headed to the start line.
One of the challenges with timing an ultrarun that includes an organized race is hitting the start line at the proper time. This year, I had nearly 25 minutes, which is really too long. Though I didn't cool all the way down, my legs really disliked the "restart" after the long rest interval. Luckily, it was considerably warmer than both my 3 a.m. start and the predicted temperature at race start.
Soon enough, the horn sounded and we were off. Again. Since I use a 5-minute run/two-minute walk Galloway plan for ultramarathons, it wasn't long before thousands of runners were passing me on my first walk interval. But knowing the distance in front of me, I stuck to the plan with great discipline.
Once again, a few short hours later, I was passing Lambeau Field heading toward the 11-mile mark of the marathon, the split off from the half-marathon, and roads that I hadn't run twice already, that morning.
I was also starting to deal with what had to be a blister developing on the bottom of my foot, just behind the toes. There was little complaining to be done, as it was quite obviously my fault. More on that, later.
The final 15 miles of the race were on "new" roads. I kept plodding along using the 5/2 plan, trying to get a feel for my pace. While I couldn't nail down a definite pace, I knew I was falling below the 10-minute pace of the first 25 miles. Eventually, the 4:30 and 5 hour pace teams pace me. I wasn't overly concerned, mostly because there was nothing I could do about it.
Around mile 15, the marathon course hits a long recreational trail. This is where things started to fall apart, for me. First, the trail follows the Fox River, and there was a strong, cold wind blowing across the trail. Second, spectator support along the trail is limited primarily to the few parks and crossings that exist. Finally, the suspected blister became a certainty, and the front part of my right foot was getting pretty tender.
I managed to keep the run/walk thing going, though some of the intervals got flipped (walk 5, run 2). I saw my friends at one point on the trail, and kept running until the mile 20 wall party. I ran through "the wall" and began what I knew was a 10K (6.2 mile) walk to the finish. My foot was one big blister, my legs had nothing left in them, and I knew I could make the finish around my 1 p.m. target.
Luckily, I was joined just after mile 20 by a first time marathoner who was dealing with some significant cramps. We wound up completing the rest of the marathon, together. That was a HUGE help for me, as the conversation helped keep my mind off the pain.
About 10 hours after I started (9:45 running time), I crossed the finish line. I knew that the pain I was in would subside within a few short days. I can only hope that the effort can, in some small way, help ease the suffering of Ron's wife, daughter, and other family members. Throughout the entire day, especially during the first 25 miles, my thoughts were focused on them.
A lot of people ask WHY I would consider running 50 miles at one shot. Honestly, it's because I can. And to prove I can. And in this case, it's because another CAN'T. If the idea of completing an ultramarathon boggles the imagination, please honor the effort by following the PayPal link just below my profile. There, you can make a donation to the Ron Smead Foundation. Those contributions will help ensure Ron's family is shielded from some of the financial pain of his passing.
Now, I promised "more" about the blisters and how it was actually my fault. It was, really. Does everyone remember the "nothing new on race day" rule? I do. I've been bitten by it in the past. And apparently learned nothing.
With all the training to get ready for this run, I'd gone through several pair of socks. Every pair of my favorite running sock was pretty threadbare. At the race expo, I bought several new pair. Same brand, same sock, same size. Same everything.
Well, except for the "been worn," "been washed" and "been tested on a long run" parts. While the cause of the blister could theoretically be worn shoes or the long mileage, I'm confident it is because of my stupidity. The socks just slipped more than the other pairs, likely because the new ones have yet to have all the "newness" washed out of them.
Perhaps THIS will be the lesson that sticks. But probably not. The blisters are nearly healed up and I can walk normally, again. By Saturday, I'll probably forget this ever happened.
Heard on The Bob and Tom Show, this morning. "I got into distance running, which is the worst mistake I've ever made. And I've been to jail several times." - Chad Daniels.
Haven't we all felt like that, at one time or another?
 I'm working on finding a better graphic to show contributions to the Run for Ron Ultramarathon Challenge. Until I find something, here's what Excel was able to spit out. It isn't pretty, but it gets the information across.
I'll keep it as up-to-date as possible, based on responses from the site administrator. If you are interested in making a donation to this challenge, click on the PayPal button in the sidebar, and add "Ultraman" in the "Notes to Seller" section.
I'll also get links added, once Weebly decides to stop being broken.
Running back-to-back 24 mile runs on Saturday and Sunday had me commenting, to myself, that I had forgotten how much it hurts to train like that. To be fair, it was really only the Sunday run that hurt. That's typical. Saturday seems like a normal, if slightly slower run. Sundays can be a bit painful.
Of course, that thought came to mind about 24 hours too late. Much of the day, Saturday, people were asking me why I would think about running 50 miles in memory of someone. Or run 50 miles in one shot, regardless of the reason.
As I thought about it on Sunday, it only makes sense, to me. And it's the same answer. Because we forget.
I ran 50 miles, last October. After that run, I hurt in ways I had never hurt, before. But I forgot the pain. I ran 40 miles in September and hundreds of miles in training weekends. But that was last year. I forgot how much it can hurt.
When I do this run in honor of Ron, I will keep in mind that the pain I'll experience is temporary. I'll forget about it and move on to the next event. I'll also keep in mind that the pain his wife and daughter are going through will not be forgotten. It will last far longer than anything I'll face. And the pain of loosing a loved one like this is far worse than the pain I'll endure.
In the end, I can always stop. If it gets too bad, I can stop running. I can call for a ride home. I can hop into a hot tub, get a massage, take a nap, or do countless other things to make the pain go away.
Ron's wife and daughter have to face their pain. Time will make it easier. The pain will be dulled. But it will never truly go away.
So, for one day, I'll endure the pain of a race and hope it can, in some small measure, help to ease the pain of Ron's family.
If you'd like to help, follow the link below. When making a donation, enter "Ultraman" in the "Note to Seller." They will know that your contribution is a part of the Run for Ron Ultramarathon Challenge.
Ron wasn't someone with whom I had a great deal in common in high school. He was in different cliques, played different sports, and was involved in different activities. In fact, I was more familiar with his older brother than I was with him.
More than 20 years later, it seems we have far more in common and I can very much relate to the life he lived. He was a father who loved spending time with his young daughter. Today, I saw pictures of him sharing his love of the outdoors with her, seemingly from the day of her birth. He was a hard worker who did what was required to provide for his family, including leaving his home town to travel to the east coast. He was a marathoner with a wife who marveled at his accomplishments.
Ron's wife shared with me that he dreamed of completing Goofy's Marathon and a half at Disney World in Florida. That's one more thing we had in common.
Today, I saw the wife and daughter Ron loved dealing with pain nobody would wish upon another. Nothing I or anybody else can do can take that pain away. The love of their family will help with some of the emotional pain. As friends, we hope to help with some of the financial pain.
As mentioned before, I will do a run in Ron's honor. Just how far I run will be, in part, up to everyone who reads this blog, along with other friends and family from other venues. My goal is to help raise $1000 for the family through the Ron Smead Charitable Foundation. While there are many ways to contribute locally, I believe in the power of the Internet.
On the sidebar, and in all posts for the next few weeks, you will see a PayPal donation button (just under my profile pic). That is a direct link to the donation page for the charitable foundation set up by Ron's friends. This allows a separation between donors and myself. Any donations will be visible to the foundation administrators, and only total dollar amounts will be provided to me for the purposes of tracking the challenge.
If you feel moved to contribute to help this family, simply click the "Donate" button. Donations can be made with a PayPal account, or with a credit card. After completing the donation information, there is a link for "Notes to Seller." If you click that link and add the comment "Ultraman," they will know it is a donation for the ultramarathon challenge. I will find some convenient way of tracking those totals on this site.
For starters, we already have a total of $25.00 in donations, and hope to see that increase quickly as fellow students and others spread the news. Several people have already expressed their support and offered to add their donations.
As always, I know how many solicitations we all receive. I hope you will see the benefit of helping a family and need, and appreciate your support.
 One of the things people grow accustom to as they get older is the loss, through death, of friends from school. Sadly, we sometimes have to face that harsh reality far too early in life. Such was the case, this week, when another classmate was lost to cancer. Specifically, renal cell carcinoma. Few of you reading this know Ron. His family maintained a blog of his battle, here. A close friend established a memorial page, which is likely to grow in time. (Picture courtesy of Sam Nail)
Obviously, any battle with cancer is a painful situation. That pain is shared by the family and friends of the patient. In this case, Ron is survived by a wife and daughter, Vickie and Brooke. In addition to picking up the pieces of a shattered life, Vickie must deal with the burden of medical bills from this battle.
Ron's friends will be hosting a variety of charitable events to help the family. I, too, will be throwing myself into the effort. And the best way I know to do that is to run. As indicated on the Training and Racing page, I have the Green Bay Marathon on the horizon. It is a wonderful opportunity to celebrate the life of Ron, and try to raise money to help ease the financial burden his family now faces.
To that end, I am turning to the Tri Blog Community. Obviously, I know we all receive dozens (hundreds?) of solicitations each month. Most of those, however, don't come with the opportunity to truly test someone's mettle. In this case, the someone is me. The mettle? An ultramarathon.
I have contacted Ron's friends in pursuit of donation information. They have established a memorial for the collection of funds, and that will be posted here as soon as it is available.
Ron spent the last four months in the fight of his life. Nothing I experience in a race, whether 26.2, 40, or 50 miles can compare to the challenges he faced in that battle. But I will use this race to honor his efforts, and to try to help his family.
There are two things I will need from you, my friends and family. First, I will need your help in raising those funds. Second, I need your input on how this "deal" will work. My first thought was $10/mile, 50 mile limit. Something inside me says that's a pretty low bar. My second thought was $20/mile, which seems perhaps a bit high.
My third thought is a bit complex. For everything up to $300 contributed, I will run the marathon in Ron's honor. If that amount is exceeded, I will run a 40-mile ultramarathon. And if $1000 is raised, I will make it a full 50-mile ultramarathon (attempt).
Let me be brutally honest, here. I am ill-trained for a 50-mile ultra. My training for the next several weeks just got interesting, on the chance that I will tackle such a race in three weeks. So any contributions over the agreed amount will force me to truly share in a small portion of the pain experienced by Ron and his family.
Nothing can take away from the anguish of Ron's wife, daughter, family and friends. What we can do is try to honor his battle and minimize the ongoing pain felt by his passing.
Update: I received a note from one of Ron's very good friends with a view interesting comments. He pointed out that Ron was an avid runner, and was well on his way to completing 1000 miles in 2008 when he was diagnosed with cancer. I'll try to find out just how short he was of that goal, and take that into consideration when planning this run.
 After four years of triathlons, my Tri Fox racing jersey gave up the ghost. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say it became a ghost of its former self. While we have changed the layout a bit, the jersey on the right used to be nearly identical to the jersey on the left. Of course, the front of the old jersey is much closer in appearance to the new one. When my son was looking at them, he told me the old one was inside out. When he realized that wasn't the case, he wanted to know why it was so faded.
It's a good advertisement for sun block. The same forces that completely washed out my jersey were at work on my skin, as well.
I wonder if I could use that as an explanation for my bald spot. "No, really, the hair is there, it's just faded away to nothing because of the sun." Or, perhaps, "You've heard of 'beach blonde." Well, I'm beach bald."
I wore the new jersey for my 22 mile training run, last Saturday, and all is good. The old jersey was from Sugoi, whose products I love. Most of my gear is from them. The new jersey is from Louis Garneau. It's really comfortable, and time will tell how it holds up to the abuse I'll give it.
My one immediate "dislike" is the back pocket. On the Sugoi jersey, there are two small pockets, one on each side of the back. They are fairly tight, so I'm always confident my gels are staying put. On the LG jersey, it is one big pocket in the center of the back. While it does have elastic to help keep it closed, I'm far less confident things will stay put. The upcoming Green Bay marathon will be the first test. I'll carry one gel in that pocket to see how it goes. The rest will go in my Race Ready shorts.
 If a new jersey is right, the picture outside, this morning is just wrong. April 21st (Happy Birthday to my brother and sister, twins born five years apart), and it's snowing outside. Not only is it snowing, it's accumulating. That's about a half-inch of slushy snow on the windows of my cars. There was snow covering my grill in the back, and it's starting to stick to the grass.
The only positive spin is that we need the precipitation. But why snow? Rain would do the trick, just as well. Last Friday, I took the bike out for a 21 mile ride. Saturday morning I ran 22 miles, starting at 5 a.m., wearing shorts and that new tri jersey. And Monday and Tuesday bring snow.
I have a marathon in less than four weeks. This snow stuff needs to end.
 I'll sandwich that "wrong" between two "rights." And this one is super-cool. This picture shows both my kids out biking. My daughter finally put away her tricycle and moved to the "big girl bike." She's getting pretty good, and has even overcome her concern of crashing because of sharp turns (she sometimes fails to take into account the training wheels).
Just as exciting is that my son is on two wheels. One of the other boys in the neighborhood has the training wheels off his bike, and my son was quick to follow. He didn't care that the other boy is nearly 18 months older. I was amazed at how quickly he moved from two wheel novice to expert, and how little adult help it took. He spent one day with different adults helping him balance. Four days later, with no additional help, he was zooming around like a pro. He's even mastered the uphill sections of the driveways, 180 degree turns on the sidewalk, and avoiding his sister when she gets in the way.
We're going to start looking for a slightly bigger bike, which should make his next triathlon loads of fun. Last year, he had the training wheels. This year, he'll be on two wheels and (hopefully) a bigger bike.
*Sniff* They're growing up so fast!
Over a dozen half-marathons. Approaching 10 full marathons. Preparing for my fourth half-Ironman. One Ironman and two ultramarathons. So far, none of them has brought me to my knees and required me to concede defeat for the day.
So why is it so hard to hit the dentist's office and let them work on my teeth?
I went in to have a filling repaired. They have me now, and have no intention of letting me off easy.
I'd rather do another Ironman. It's easier.
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