I'm an irongeek

Here I am, in the afternoon post workout, errands all done and I'm watching the 2007 Ironman World Championships from Kona this past October on NBC. From Chris McCormack powering his way through the run to win his first Ironman to the final age-grouper to finish at midnight they are champions every last one of them.

Stolen lines, ironically the two letters that you have to remove from impossible to make it so, are I and M; IM as in Ironman.

have a good afternoon. -dean

Oh Canada! Ironman Day in Penticton, B.C. Canada

So it's August 26th, 2007. And what would be better than watching good friends finish Ironman? Here we are, we've been watching off and on all day, but now I'm glued to my computer watching the streaming video from Penticton. I'm doing was anyone who knows this distance would be. I'm counting minutes, hours, transition minutes and trying to figure out who's finishing first, and how far from now it'll all happen. Go Kevin & Christy!!! (In no particular order)

-dean

Race Report : 2007 Ironman Coeur d'Alene : Bike

This year in Coeur d'Alene marked the first year of an all new bike course. There are a number of reasons that I have heard for this, but they don't really matter to me. The old course took riders out to the Idaho/Washington state line with a fair amount of climbing and had pieces of the ride that in retrospect felt like unnecessary filler. There was a long piece past mile 35/85 (or so) that followed the centenial trail along the highway and caused riders to hit a decent headwind.

The new course took us out of Coeur d'Alene and in to the town of Hayden. This year's course was quite a bit harder. Though in looking at my polar altitude data from last year and comparing it to this year, it seems like there 4300 feet of climbing (30 miles or so) and last years course had 4600 feet of climbing over the same distance. Though there was 300 fewer feet of climbing I'd say that this course was harder, if only in my mind. I'd say that last year had the climbing over a shorter distance forcing riders this year to climb for a longer period of time.

The biggest change was that the course was far prettier than last year. To the uninitiated this might sound petty, but over a seven hour period having great stuff to look at makes the time that much better. The rolling hills were beautiful, and the long line of riders looked like ants climbing over them.

For me I had the opportunity to talk to several people over the ride. (Most of them were passing me). It was by all accounts, despite being difficult perhaps, a great ride. The weather we had was wonderful, mid 60's to low 70's with a small headwind for most of the ride and a longer stronger headwind right near the end of the ride. If they keep the course the way that it was and you intend to ride this race next year, I'd recommend longer sustained climbing as a large part of your training.

End result, last year 7:50~ish, this year 7:20 (and that's with 12 minutes worth of bathroom stops because of the cold weather and hydration planned for a warmer day).

11pm - Do you know where your sanity is?

I'm getting on a plane in six or seven hours to fly to Seattle to then fly to Spokane to then get in a car or a shuttle to ride for another hour in to Idaho where my race weekend will begin. A year ago I was sitting in my apartment in Long Beach, my bags weren't packed, my brain heavily in denial over where I was going and what was about to happen. I tell people at work that I'm going on vacation, but this is hardly a vacation from their perspective.

I'm leaving the state for a couple of days. I'm staying in a hotel in a resort town. I'm travelling with friends. We'll see the sights, eat good food, and enjoy each other's company. All true. It's a Holiday inn express in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, a picturesque town on a lake in Idaho. I've trained the whole year with a fantastic group of athletes and we're going together to Idaho. Ironman is in our future, but that's not until Sunday. We'll drive the bike course and see the hills and the long straight aways in our future.

To be honest it'll be an experience not to be missed. I can only hope that it means as much to them as it has to me. A chance to return to a course that pushed me to test myself and my desire to get what I wanted. I don't think that I wanted any thing more in my life than to finish that course that day. Nothing was going to stand in my way, nothing was going to keep me from that finish line. I'd worked for nine months, given up my weekends, and my nights to train my body to accept distance, pain, and the joys of a hard day's work. At the end of it all it was a joy; A joy to walk through the airport. A joy to walk the expo. A joy to see my teammates on the out and back stretches as we passed one another. Training for ironman was worth every minute.

And now here I am again. Five hours from having to be in a cab on my way to the airport all over again. I feel ready. Though I'm not sure I know what that really is yet. It takes time to know what that means. I feel better than I did last year. Stronger. Leaner. Smarter. I want it just as much.

It's ok. I'll sleep tomorrow and Friday night. I'll see the things that make me happy. Wake up in a new place. Swim in a lake. Ride in the mountains. Run near a beach. It'll be a vacation. A vacation called the 2007 Ford Ironman Coeur d'Alene. An adventure. I'm ready.

G'night.
-dean

2007 Wildflower Recap

Yes I know what you're thinking, a recap? From a guy that didn't even race? Yup! That's me. I was out there supporting my team. Which team is that you may ask? Well that's the Los Angeles Team in Training Ironteam, the very one bound for Ironman Coeur d'Alene in Idaho in June.

The very best news about training with a group of people on their way to an early summer ironman race is that Wildflower is a tune-up race. YEAH! You heard me, a tune-up race! (Again, not that I did it.) We, that is to say the team, had a great day out there. Good race day decisions made by all. Everyone approached the day knowing that they couldn't kill themselves out there, after all there's a race to do in six or seven weeks. hint hint. That having been said, there was no slacking out there. (Just ask someone about the famous naked aid station or the streakers that ran through camp Saturday night after the race.)

To quote coach Paul, "It was a good day. No one drowned." It's funny, he says that after run practice too. And why shouldn't that be the measure of a good day? With so many participants and waves that the start of the race stretched over an hour and half with each wave separated by five minutes it's a great thing that no one drowned. Everyone I saw from our ironteam group emerged from the water on fairly fresh legs bounding up towards transition. Collectively I'm sure that the concensus was "Thank God I'm out of that. Now all I have to do is ride."

The team looked strong with Gregorio, Chris, Heather, Raul, Maria, Trish, and Laurie moving with excellent pacing through the field. The day was long, but everyone came through just fine.

For anyone not having experienced Wildflower, even from the vantage point of a spectator, Wildflower is a spectacle and a sight to be seen. Talk to any group of triathletes and you're bound to hear that Wildflower is the Woodstock of triathlon. With many races today taking place in or near sizable cities or towns, hotels and motels are the common lodging of choice. With Wildflower, taking place in the scenic locale of Lake San Antonio, and the nearest populated area being close to an hour away by car, camping is the way to go. (Or an RV if you're so inclined.)

On Thursday the bulk of races start to arrive. Many carry tents to setup for friends, color tape to rope off sections and get ready to put their flag in the sand for race weekend. Come Friday and you'll still find a spot on the ground to stake your tent. Get there too late and you might not. By the time all is said and done the ground is covered in tents, RVs, parked cars, campfires, and athletes either relaxing before their race or celebrating a finsih. I grew up camping in that same campground and the long hot days of July and August are no where near as crowded as this past weekend was.

Saturday morning starts early with the long course athletes going in first and then the sprint athletes, which includes a youth division. Sunday is all olympic distance athletes. I was fortunate to have been able to volunteer on Saturday. Wildflower is actually run by students at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. Volunteers are pooled from each of the campus groups and the race was well supported throughout. I actually found myself out of a job before 930am. So I went with Karen, one of my ironteammates, to the swim exit to try and spot our teammates coming out of the water.

Now a moment for this: Triathlon is a hard sport to watch. It really is. Think about it. Football, football (soccer), tennis, baseball, even nascar, these are all sports that occur on closed grounds for the most part where the objective or source of the action occurs in one place, more or less, for the duration of the event. Triathlon, marathon running, cycle road races, these are sports where athletes goal is survival first, then to thrive over distance and time. Where an hour covers several miles of work. For spectators this blows! Of course if the race took place on a track or in a small loop it would be the worst race in the world, but then, to watch a race means that one has to be in one place to spot their athlete for the 30 seconds tops, as they zip by on the bike, a minute or two as they pass on the run, and forget about the swim. Anyone who can spot and honestly keep track of a swimmer from a 2000 person mass start to the finish of the race from shore deserves a finisher's medal too, but dip this one in gold or something. When you see them you were standing or sitting in one point not longer than a couple of feet in a race that lasts 70.3 or 140.6 miles. Maybe they'll be back on the second loop or when they come in to finish, but that's it. Unless you hoof it cross course to see them at another point in the race.

From an athlete's perspective, there's little that I've seen on the course that lifts my spirit than a familiar face and the sound of someone calling my name cheering me on. Not even a cup full of ice at mile 20 of an Ironman marathon lifts my spirits like that. Better still is that familiar face in a bar or restaurant after the race with an ice cold pint. But that's neither here nor there. We could run the race without support. It would be harder and less fun, but it could be done. If you know an endurance athlete and want to support them go to a race. It's hard and trust me the vast majority of the day will blow, you'll do a lot of waiting around, but for a couple of minutes and more miles than you will know you will carry your athlete's spirits.

For some, race season doesn't start until Wildflower race weekend, which comprises of a long course (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run aka half ironman distance), a mountain bike sprint, and an olympic race. For others this is the race for which they've trained the entire year. From the crudest point of view a race is just a race. But Wildflower is battle, bragging rights, and a rite of passage in this tribe of athletes. Completion can be seen in the same vein as winning, a finish, any finish is a victory and something of which to be proud.

So, Go Team! Be proud.

The 2007 Ironman California - 70.3

A tremendous season opener. The Ford Ironman California 70.3, a mouthful of syllables and no shortage of meaning. Ironman 70.3 races are distances formally known as "half ironman" races. Don't let the "half" fool you it's a race not to be taken lightly. For many present this was not only their first race of the season, but also their first at this distance.

In previous years this race was two weeks earlier and more often than not race day brought cold water, rainy weather, and slick asphalt. This year on March 31st the race was held to bright blue sunny skies, and a swim nearly five full degrees warmer than last year. For Southern Californians this is the closest race at any ironman distance.

Ahh the swim, a 1.2 mile loop through the boat bay. I'm usually pretty anxious to get in the water. Not so much because I like swimming, though I do, but more because I can't wait for it to be over. In most places I'm perfectly comfortable in the water, but in the open with that may people around me, the irrational part of my brain takes over and starts to freak me out. I say irrational because this year and last year I've trained at double this distance and am fine when I get out of the water. For the next race I need to know how hard and/or how fast I can go and still go out and have a good day. I was in the 18th wave, starting over an hour after the first group of professionals. Basically I watched the first pro, Andy Potts, finish his swim in 22:35 (according to the preliminary results), before I had gotten in to my wetsuit and staged in the starting chute.

Getting out of the water the charming water scenes of Oceanside, CA give way to Camp Pendleton and the hills that lay ahead. I've been on base once, and that was a much shorter ride. This ride had us riding on roads that had markings pointing out artillery ranges and signs that notified you not to proceed ahead of a particular point due to falling ordinance... The most striking notice was a crossing for, yes, tanks. A freakin' tank crossing sign. How was I NOT going to notice a 50-60 ton piece of fighting machine crossing the road?

A scant three hours and twenty minutes later it's on to the run. The run for me has always, and I mean always, been the hardest part of the day. There's nothing but road in front of you and only your legs to cover it. We ran on the strand in Oceanside from the Marina past the pier. If I haven't said it before I'll say it now, it was a beautiful day.

Final for me on the day was a 6:32. I dropped an equivalent six minutes on my swim from Ironman last year, and hopefully something equally significant on my bike and run. For me, keeping that pace for Ironman would be phenomenal. I know today that I benefit from a great training program, a year's worth of base training, the support of a fantastic team (Go Team), and the luck of having such a beautiful day on the course.

Special thanks go out to my Ironteammates, Matt (who had the fastest time on the course for our team at 5:50, go and donate to his team in training campaign if you can), Jen (who beat me by two minutes), Christy (whose persistence on the run continues to inspire and drive me), Karen (whose experience on the bike and run mirrored in many ways my '06 Ironman Coeur d'Alene experience), and to Kevin (whose experience in racing helped us all, and who went back on to the course after finishing the race himself, to find and run with Karen as she finished her race).

I was powered by Lemon-lime Motortabs, Vanilla Crisp Powerbars, Enduralytes by Hammer Nutrition, and despite a little cramping in my calves due to an overall lack of flexibility, had a fantastic day. Success is due in no small part to training, but equally to nutrition. I can't thank the fine people at Motortabs, Hammer Nutrition and Powerbar enough for bringing fine products to market and continuing to improve as endurance sports progressively evolve.

Ironman California 70.3 2007 : Off to the races

I'm signing off for the weekend. I'll be out at the Ironman California 70.3 doing my best not to die. That's right folks, a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run.

All kidding aside, it'll be a blast. Seven of my teammates from my team in training ironteam will be there and we'll be cheering each other on as we pass through transition and then on through the finishers chute and on to glory.

Stay tuned for a race report on Monday. Thanks for reading.
-dean

A New PR... amazing what a little training will do.

Unofficially I have a new PR in the half marathon. On this, a beautiful day in southern california crossed the finish line in 1hr55mins. It was my first time breaking two hours and it crushed my previous PR at that distance by almost ten minutes. The weather was great, cold then nice and warm. The people were great, volunteers were divine. I'll write more about it later, but for now, food then a nap. (And the superbowl!!) Peace. -dean

Cool stuff to look at

I have some pictures to show you, I mean if you're in to that sort of thing. Really though, some good stuff from last year, and this year.

Stuff from my time at Ironman Coeur d'Alene last year (http://deanspace.smugmug.com/gallery/2341195)

A little about my team this year (http://deanspace.smugmug.com/gallery/2341292)

I'm just a wee bit of a photo geek. So with any luck at all there will be some more up here soon. Hope you're all having a great week. Enjoy the pics. -dean

Charity in Ironman: A chance for extraordinary things

If you haven't guessed already I'm a fan of ironman. The whole thing. As a business they've taken what must have been a drunken challenge bet between a bunch of military rats in Hawaii, to a place where women and men, able and challenged, professional and age-group, can come to test themselves on a professionally run course where everyone moves the same distance. They've taken a swim, a ride, and a foot race and made it a profitable brand in the world. Kudos.

As a race, the distances for each discipline are challenging. The locations that can accommodate the number of people and each race event are not numerous but the ones that are selected are still some of the most beautiful in the world.

The opportunity availed to normal, ordinary, every-day, guy/girl next-door, people to be great and achieve is incredible. The road to an ironman finish, a first place daylight glory filled sweet victory, to a 16h59m59s nail biting cross, to an 18 hour solo cross of the line with no lights, no crowd, no applause, nothing but the drive to finish what you have started, is long. There are no short cuts. And every story, no matter how gifted an athlete begins, is fraught with challenge and no shortage of sweat, blood, and time spent training.

As an event ironman north america (World triathlon corporation (WTC) or North America Sports as they have been rebranded) and their presenting sponsor, Janus, have created another way for ordinary people to achieve. Clarification required. I DO NOT believe that anyone who would consider ironman as a part of their active life to be anywhere near ordinary, just extraordinary.

The Janus Charity Challenge is a fundraising program wherein, any registered participant may raise money for the qualified charity of their choice. In 2006 participants in Ironman Coeur d'Alene raised a record breaking $1.36 million dollars for charity. This was the result of a mere 49 athletes (8 of which were Los Angeles Team in Training Ironteam participants).

Of the top five fundraising efforts there were four people, as one person took both 2nd and 3rd position on the top fundraising list by raising a combined $390K for two different charities.

The top five can be viewed by clicking here with their respective charities

Janus not only provides the infrastructure to support these fundraising efforts, but also provides supplemental funds to the causes:

1st Place Individual : $10,000 donation

2nd Place Individual : $8,000 donation

3rd Place Individual : $6,000 donation

4th Place Individual : $4,000 donation

5th Place Individual : $2,000 donation

The beneficiaries of the next 30 highest fundraisers who raise a minimum of $750.00 will receive an additional contribution of $750.00 from Janus.

The beneficiaries of the next 15 highest fundraisers who raise a minimum of $500.00 will receive an additional contribution of $100.00 from Janus.

Some people out there have a sour taste in their mouth from the way that the race has become a business, how inflated the rates have become, and the expense caused by the merchandising of the brand. On the other hand, the business gives to each community that hosts them, offers the opportunity for people to work for causes they believe in, and brings an event of massive relative scope to people who might otherwise not have had the opportunity to challenge themselves.

It is a multi-discipline race, which can be ten to twelve months of training, for an exhausing 17 hour day, but whose finish grants the victor bragging rights for life. I've finished my first Ironman. I'm coming back for a second. I look forward to seeing all your smiling faces at the finish line. -dean

2006 Ironman Coeur d'Alene Race Report

An extract from my post race YAWHOO!!! email.

Hello EVERYONE!
Before a full month sets in let me get this email out to you. On June 25th, 2006 I successfully completed my first IRONMAN distance triathlon. How was it you might ask? It was a good long day. LONG of course is the word that you should be keying in to right now. Why did it take so long to get this recap? Well, I've been "recovering" (read: sleeping, and eating lots...)

I successfully crossed the finish line after completing all 140.6 miles after dark with a total time of 15 hours 43 minutes.

(Note: I just finished typing this and it goes on for a little while so if you're at work and should really be working, maybe later is better for this... or not) ;)

The Ironman was something that, until a month ago, was inconceivable. Who in their right mind would get voluntarily move that far for that long without a valid excuse, like being chased by a wild hungry animal of some kind? Well, on that day in June there were 2500 of us, walking and talking at six a.m. waiting for the race to start. I'd say that that was at the crack of dawn, but in Idaho in the middle of June 4:30 a.m. is the crack of dawn (who knew?).

The Ironman of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho grants competitors of all skill levels the opportunity to participate in what is known as a mass start. Standing shoulder to shoulder, ten and even twenty deep in some places, in a line stretching thirty or forty yards down a beach 2500 people, surrounded by fellow racers clad in wetsuits, stand poised for the blast of the canon which will start the race (yes, there actually was a canon, I have video to prove it). At the blast of the canon every racer charges the water to make a pair of 1.2 mile loops, at the end of each, you get out of the water and charge back in or head off to the transition area to prep for the bike.

For those people who were watching my times online (THANKS!!) my swim wasn't as fast as I would have liked, and here's why... Cornering at the buoys was like sitting in traffic on the 405 freeway on a Saturday afternoon, everyone seemed to know where they wanted to go, couldn't get there, blamed the person in front of them for stopping so suddenly, and was left at the mercy of the block of people in front of them. Needless to say that took some time. On my second loop a swimmer in front of me stopped and I ran in to him. When I stopped to see how I could get around him he was floundering around with two huge cramps in his legs and no way to get to the safety kayaker. Stopping to help him stretch out and then eventually pushing him through the steady stream of traffic cost me some time too (but you can't just leave someone like that out there can you?). So yeah, not quite like doing laps in a pool or even a solo open water swim at the beach.

After an hour and twenty minutes it was finally time to start the bike. Up until this point all I knew of the weather was that the sun was out and it was time to get out of the water. At this point it was still under 80 degrees outside. Funny note here, there are people in transition to "help" you out of your wetsuit, basically they yell, "Get down on your back!" Whereupon two volunteers strip the wetsuit right off your body. It takes less than 10 seconds.

The bike is a charming 56 mile loop from the town of Coeur d'Alene, along a river, up two good sized hills (ugh... pain), and out past the Idaho/Washington border and then back again (repeat just one more time for the full 112 miles). The first loop was great, a balmy 78 degrees and nothing but joy throughout my body and mind over having survived the melee that is a mass start group swim. Within an hour the temperature shot up to 93. By the time I started my second loop the temperature was well on its way past 100, ending up spiking at 103 (I have a thermometer on my watch) by the time the ride was done. Couple that with humidity at over 60% and you have GREAT conditions to complete what was the longest physical day of my life. Supposedly the rate of people dropping out of this race was the highest that it has ever been for this venue.

At mile 80 of the bike I found a pair of my teammates sitting off the road, off their bikes around some volunteers at an aid station well on their way to dehydration, heat stroke, and some other heat related malady. Only slightly disheartening because they were/are the two best cyclists that we have on our team, if they're getting beat up, what's next for me? We rode the last thirty miles in to transition together.

Nothing like being done... with the bike. Now we just cool down with the marathon. Note to the masses here, I'd never run a marathon (measured or timed) in my life. I'd made it to 22 miles, 24 miles, but never the full 26.2. Thankfully again, the venue won me over. We ran around the lake, and through town. Some of the neighbors, in addition to cheering us on for hours and hours, volunteered to hand out food/water, AND turned on their sprinklers and hoses. Two hours in to my marathon the temps were still over 95 degrees and just starting to come down. With aid stations every mile you can't help but stay hydrated and maintain a fair amount of energy. They had all the usual stuff, Gatorade, gels, water, fruit, pretzels and some surprises. You wouldn't believe it but there's coke on the course and it's great for runners (provided that it's flat), that plus water in equal amounts has sugar, caffeine, and for most people it is familiar and easily digestible. The other life saver on the course was warm chicken broth, sounds strange, but it was really good.

Those last three, the coke/water, and the chicken broth brought me in the finish line (that and all the ice I could shove under my hat). It was dark by the time I hit the home stretch. I had had dreams of finishing in daylight, but the heat of the day threw all that out the window and now finishing was all I could see in my head.

One of the cool things about small towns is that there really aren't any street lights, so winding through the streets on my way in to the finish line there were spectators and volunteers with glow sticks in most places and the simplicity of the road, my shoes, and me plugging away at the last few miles in the dark for the rest. The last turn on the course is a left that dumps you out on the the town's main drag, it's a downhill stretch over a mile long (or that's what it felt like). Coming out of the darkness of the street the finishing stretch is lit up with huge portable stadium lights, bleachers with family/friends/well-wishers of all kinds, and over a loud speaker is the voice of Ironman announcing the return of each successful road warrior with words I've waited two years to hear. My legs lost whatever fatigue was there renewed with adrenaline and hope, hope that I'd see the finish line and not drop on the road in sight of the end. I dropped in to a mad sprint toward the lights. Spectators at the finish line watch the chute, an inflatable archway housing the timing mats and cameras displaying each finisher on a huge screen. One by one over the last seven hours participants, now finishers, have trickled in. Some in fine shape, some in not quite so fine shape. Every one of them is met by a pair of "catchers" who escort the lucid finisher towards the final aid station, stocked with pizza and more gatorade than you can shake a stick at; And those not so fine ones off to the medical tent, for a heating blanket and/or an IV. On my way down the street I pass one person after another as they will their bodies just one more step and then another, collecting high fives from the spectators and cheers, huge cheers, the closer I got to the finish line. With everything I had left I actually crossed the finish line in midair celebrating my first finish as the voice of the Ironman announced over the PA, (pronouncing correctly I add):


"DEAN SAKIHAMA YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!"

When I crossed the finish line I felt fine and as it turns out I knew my name, what day it was, and who the president was so they deemed me well enough (physically) to grab my well earned slice of pizza.

I crossed the finish line in 15:43. I beat out a mass start, hills, heat, humidity, eight months of training, and that part of the brain that most people call sanity which continuously yells, "Just go to the movies next time" to finish the distance. I loved every minute of it, no matter how hard it was, and perhaps because it was hard... Having said that, I can't wait for the next one. Though a few long naps before I have to start training again are probably in order.

My thanks to all of you for supporting me in the ways that family and friends do, talking me through the things that life throws at you, by encouraging me along the way, not writing me off when I stopped talking or writing or falling completely out of touch, and most importantly by being there.

My love to all,
Good night and thanks for reading.
-dean

ps.
Shameless plug, if you have the opportunity to get involved with Team in Training for an endurance event, be it a half or full marathon, a century ride, or a triathlon, I highly recommend it. I've been surrounded with dedicated, positive people, throughout this training period, without whom, I am certain, I would not have been able to finish my race. (Nor would it have been as fulfilling)