PEAK WEEK !!!!! Where it all comes together!

I really have very little to talk about this week because this week I am at the peak of my training and then I start to taper (FINALLY!!! I thought it would never get here) which means the next three weeks leading up to the race will require fewer miles swimming, biking and running.

I will admit, once I got the validation of my slot last week for some reason it hit me that I am actually going to get to race.

It’s an exciting feeling that definitely needs to be tempered and controlled, especially on the starting line where it can wreck havoc on your swim if you’re too excited by zapping your energy, and it can slow you down if you’re not excited enough to kick it into high gear for the race. It’s a fine line that’s really hard to explain to someone who has not faced a triathlon, or anything, that challenges your limits.

Health wise I am continuing to have problems with my foot (stress fractures most likely cause) I am attempting to train through it, but as I sit here tonight it is hurting from my 12 mile run this morning. I am working with Mike Dannenberg (Performance Therapy) to hopefully make it across the finish line in Kona. My thoughts are my foot is fine in the swim and on the bike, all I have to do is drag it across the finish line on the run.

Here’s an article that was in the New York Times this past weekend that describes the race in Kona from a different perspective:

September 14, 2008
The Main Event

Thank You, Sir, May I Have an Ironman?
By ANDREW TILIN

How far will triathletes go to be miserable? Just to land a spot in the Ford Ironman World Championship in Hawaii on Oct. 11, they must qualify by competing in a race that is almost always the same brutal 140.6-mile distance (some ‘‘lucky’’ folks get in via lottery, and fewer still pony up for the handful of slots that are auctioned off on eBay and fetch as much as $50,000).
Then these lucky 1,800 athletes train 25 or more hours per week for months to survive the race’s torturous conditions and along the way burn up untold sums on gear, nutritional products, masseuses and plane tickets to Kona. But such are the aspirations of more and more people — in the last year triathlon participation grew by one-third — and if you’re actually good enough to win at the Big Hula you’re recognized as triathlon’s master of masochism, which earns you $110,000. If you’re 10th? A mere $5,000.
Buy some macadamia nuts and some faster shoes. A cruel divide, perhaps, but also a motivator, because nowadays the pain required to win one year seems insufficient for prevailing the next. ‘‘It is strange,’’ admits Faris al-Sultan, a contender from Germany who won once before, in 2005, ‘‘this urge we all have to suffer.’’
THE MELTDOWNS: BRIEF HISTORY OF IRONMAN MISERY
1978 John Collins, a Navy commander, hatches an idea to combine three established endurance events into one race. The handwritten race packet given out to the 15 competitors reads: “Swim 2.4 miles! Bike 112 miles! Run 26.2 miles! Brag for the rest of your life!” Collins finishes five hours behind the winner, a cab driver named Gordon Haller.
1982 The unheralded Julie Moss is in the lead when she stumbles less than a mile from victory (above). Picking herself up more times than Rocky Balboa, Moss approaches the finish line, falls and ultimately crawls, only to have Kathleen McCartney pass her less than 100 feet from the end. ABC films the finish, and millions are awed by Moss’s effort.
1987 The enigmatic six-time winner Dave Scott announces at the last minute that he’ll race and then wins. Mark Allen, who had been leading with only five miles to go, finishes second, ultimately reduced to a common late-race shuffle that one onlooker calls “the dance of the thousand headless monkeys.” (Allen would go on to win the race six times.)
1995 Suffering from dehydration, the eight-time winner Paula Newby-Fraser sits down 300 yards from the finish and babbles to herself for about 20 minutes. She ultimately comes in fourth.
1997 Vomiting up all of the fluids he ingests, Chris Legh is seriously disoriented as he approaches the finish. Various organs have shut down. He collapses and begins crawling — away from the line. Soon afterward, during emergency surgery, doctors remove a third of his large intestine.
2005 Robert McKeague, an 80-year-old grandfather of nine, becomes the oldest athlete ever to complete the Ironman. Soon after crossing the finish line (with a time of 16:21:55), McKeague announces that he won’t be back to defend his title.
THE FUEL
Ironman types call nutrition the event’s fourth sport. Competitors can generate up to 64 ounces of sweat hourly (about four pounds of fluid) , and they can burn 7,500 calories over the entire competition. “As much as anything, it’s an eating and drinking contest,” says Bob Babbitt, a race commentator and six-time finisher. “How many calories can you successfully get down?” Here, a few rules in the contest of consumption:
1. Avoid the salt water: There’s no opportunity to replace fluids during the swim, and swallowing too much of the Pacific can cause nausea and a swollen tongue. Dehydration is rampant.
2. Dine while you ride: The cycling leg offers the best opportunity to eat, and athletes can generally digest anywhere from 300 to 400 calories per hour while pedaling. Chris McCormack drinks 350-calorie helpings of Ensure Plus for the first few hours. But beware: intense exercise can shunt blood from the stomach, and those energy bars have a way of coming right back up.
3. Pack your bags carefully: Back in the primitive 1980s, Ironman “special needs bags” — prepacked by each competitor and set out on the course — were filled with things like cheeseburgers and loaves of Hawaiian sweet bread. Then energy goo was invented. Maltodextrin-based gels provide fuel over time; corn syrup versions deliver quick boosts. Their consistency? Much like mucus.
4. Remember the taurine: Seven hours into an Ironman, muscles cramp and minds wander. Time for a pick-me-up! Aid stations have de-fizzed cola. Race leaders like al-Sultan and McCormack think enough of zingy Red Bull that they rely on it late in the race. “With an hour to go,” McCormack says, “you don’t want to get sleepy.”

I will be back in touch after next weekend and tell everyone how my 110 mile bike rides are going or my 2.5 mile swims are coming along or if my foot blows out during training.