Category: Triathlon

Jun 17 2026 2026-06-17 2026-06-17 by Ross

This Week in Training…Or Not….Less is More Edition

Posted in Travel, Triathlon

I have decided not to race Ironman Wisconsin this year. Or, probably, any year.

And I’m completely at peace with that decision.

First, as I’ve mentioned before, I was never entirely sure of my “why.” Why was I doing this? Why was I jumping straight back into a 140.6 after a 12-year gap? Why wasn’t I building back up naturally – sprint, Olympic, half, and then maybe full over a year or two?

Why did I need to prove anything?

To be honest, I still don’t completely know the answer. But I do know that whatever urge pushed me to sign up for Ironman Wisconsin disappeared somewhere around the finish line of Rockford 70.3.

I don’t know why it came. I don’t know exactly why it left. I just know that it did.

Rockford was actually a very good race for me mentally. I didn’t go to a dark place the way I have in previous races. I proved to myself that I could handle the day. And honestly, I think about 90% of that was my fueling plan. Apparently, my “mental toughness issues” may have been less about my brain and more about the fact that I had been attempting endurance events while essentially starving myself.

Who knew that food was important? Science is amazing.

That isn’t to say Rockford was easy. I was miserable for weeks leading into the race with stress and anxiety, and I certainly had moments during the bike where I could feel myself starting to spiral.

But overall, I enjoyed it more than any race I’ve ever done.

That statement is both encouraging and a little absurd considering that my idea of enjoying a race is “I only suffered emotionally for parts of it.”

Progress.

The second realization came this morning when I looked at my training calendar. Next week was the start of another build phase. And I dreaded it.

The thought of driving 90 minutes to 2.5 hours just to ride my bike for four or five hours did not excite me. In fact, it made me want to do anything else.

That was a pretty clear sign.

Less is more.

I still like triathlon. I still like the structure of training. I like improving. I like being fit. I like seeing what my body can do at 60 years old. But I can get all of those things without making my entire life revolve around one race.

That brings me to the third realization.

A few weekends ago, I ran a 5K with my daughter. I had a blast. Part of that was being with her, but part of it was the race itself. I was actually competitive. I wasn’t hanging on for dear life for six or seven hours. I wasn’t negotiating with myself about how much walking was acceptable.

I was running.

Fast.

Well, “fast” with a very generous age-adjusted definition of the word.

The point is, I realized races could actually be fun. What a concept.

So I joined a local triathlon club. This summer I’ll train with them for rides and open-water swims as I prepare for an Olympic-distance race. I think it will be a lot more enjoyable.

Ironically, the training may actually get harder in some ways. Less volume means more intensity. More speed work. More pushing the pace.I’ll still get that satisfying feeling after a hard workout. It’ll just be from a fast six-mile run instead of a slow ten-mile run. And maybe most importantly, I’ll get time back.

Time to hike with my son. Time to kayak with my wife. Time to play pickleball. Time to say “yes” to things instead of checking whether they interfere with a five-hour bike ride or whether I’ll be too exhausted afterward to enjoy them.

So I have no regrets about signing up for Ironman Wisconsin. It got me back into serious training. It got me healthier (depending on how accurate I want to be, I’ve lost 16 lbs, but that last low weight was the day after Rockford, so maybe not the MOST accurate). It got me to Rockford. It helped me realize what I enjoy and what I don’t.

That was worth something.

But the goal has changed. I don’t need to prove I can suffer for fourteen hours. I’ve already done that.

Maybe the next challenge is figuring out how to enjoy the hours in between.

Less is more.


Jun 15 2026 2026-06-15 2026-06-15 by Ross

Ironman Rockford 70.3 – The Good, The Bad, and The Existential Crisis…

Posted in Triathlon

Saturday was actually wonderful.

My daughter drove up with me for check-in and we had a great time. My wife met us later and we had dinner at one of my childhood favorite restaurants.

I barely ate. Not because the food wasn’t good. My stomach was in full rebellion mode from nerves. I had been a mess for three weeks, and Saturday night might have been the worst of it.

I did not sleep. At all.

So Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m. arrived, whether I was ready or not.

My wife and daughter dropped me off at transition, I set up my spot, and took the shuttle to the swim start. I was disappointed that we couldn’t get into the river before the race. I haven’t done an open-water swim in twelve years, and getting a few minutes in the water would have helped calm my nerves.

The swim start was also a lot slower than I expected. We lined up by expected pace, and three people entered the water every five seconds. The pros started at 7:00, the age-groupers shortly after, and I didn’t get into the water until around 7:40.

The swim, however, was legendary.

I’m normally a strong swimmer, but the current turned me into Michael Phelps for about 26 minutes. I finished in 26:14, about fourteen minutes faster than my normal pace. Admittedly, that includes a brief moment of panic where I got tangled on an underwater cable near a buoy, had to hold onto a kayak for a minute to catch my breath, and questioned whether my “legendary” swim was going to end with a rescue boat.

It did not.  I hung on the boat for about 20 seconds and launched back into the swim.  I’d have been sub 26 but for that.

The bike was another story. What the triathlon gods gave me with the current, they eventually took back with the bike.

The headwind was brutal. For most of the ride, I was well behind my target pace and watching my average speed mock me on the Garmin. Eventually, I got a tailwind and gained some of it back, but I still finished at 3:36:42. I wasn’t thrilled with the time, but I also kept my promise to myself. I stayed in my heart rate zone. I didn’t chase speed. I stuck to my nutrition plan.

And that may have been the biggest victory of the day.

My stomach was still wonky from nerves. The nausea disappeared once the race started, then returned during the bike, but I fueled anyway. Previous versions of me would have ignored calories and water and then wondered why the run became a death march.

The run was… the run.

My runs are never my favorite part of triathlon. My strategy was simple: run from aid station to aid station and walk through the aid stations. The first 10K actually went pretty well.

The second half became more of a negotiated settlement between me and my legs. I wound up walking about two full miles. Not ideal, but I was moving at a strong pace and eventually crossed the finish line with a 2:29:43 half marathon.

Final time:

6:45.

Not my fastest. Not my slowest.

My two faster 70.3s were flatter courses, and that matters. Ironman says Rockford has around 1,900 feet of climbing. My Garmin has repeatedly called shenanigans on that number. This time it recorded 2,904 feet of climbing.

That is a lot of climbing.

Especially when you spend half the ride being personally attacked by the wind.

FML.

One of the best parts of the day had nothing to do with my performance.

Because of a timing issue online, my wife and daughter missed me at the swim and never saw me on the bike. Given my personality and current anxiety level, I naturally assumed this meant they had either been in a terrible car accident or had rushed back to Chicago because one of my sons was in the hospital.

You know. A perfectly normal and reasonable thought process.

Then, just as I came into transition from the bike, I saw them. They had made goofy signs and were wearing ridiculous hats that I knew nothing about.

It put a huge smile on my face.

And that was where my pre-race promise to myself came true. I looked around.

I saw the volunteers cheering every athlete. I saw Rockford residents sitting in their front yards spraying hoses for hot runners. I saw people with boomboxes every few miles. I especially remember two women blasting dance music and dancing like they were at a concert instead of standing on a sidewalk in the sun.  On the bike and the run, I saw athletes pushing themselves.  When someone passed, I’d tell them “looking strong” or on the run I’d walk a few steps through an aid station with someone and chat them up.  Tried to be positive on the course and to fellow competitors.  I got a lot of compliments on my bike jersey “Turtle Racing Club:  We’ll get there when we get there.”  I took time to look at the farm fields, the rivers, the sky, the parks we ran through, the outfits people were wearing.  I took time to thank volunteers ar the aid stations.  Anything I could do to stay out of my head.

It was wonderful.

I finished.  And I am happy about that.  I had a time I can live with.  I didn’t mentally collapse.  I didn’t shit myself.

The funny thing is that the anxiety did not magically disappear afterward. Part of that was because I was an idiot and still could not eat after the race, which became a vicious cycle: I was nauseous because I wasn’t eating and I wasn’t eating because I was nauseous.

Part of it is family stress.

Part of it is that the race was never the entire problem.

I skipped dinner, got in bed at 7:00, couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and eventually took medication.

So that part is still something I need to address.

But physically? I did what I came to do.

I finished under seven hours, which was my goal.

I executed my nutrition plan.

My mental game was better.

Ironically, the thing that made me say, “Never again” was not the result.

At the finish I told my wife I was done with the long stuff.

No Ironman Wisconsin.

No more 70.3s.

Of course, I reserve the right to completely contradict myself in about two weeks.

I was undertrained for this race compared to where I’ll be for Madison, so maybe I feel differently after some rest. But it raises a real question: why am I doing these races? The other week my daughter and I ran a 5K. It was fun. I was competitive. It hurt for 25 minutes instead of seven hours. Maybe sprint and Olympic triathlons are more my speed. I can still train hard, still stay fit, but have more confidence and more enjoyment.

I don’t know the answer yet.

That is probably a conversation for the sports psychologist.

I do know this: the Rockford 70.3 was extremely well run. The aid stations were excellent. Transition was crowded because it was on a city street, which meant my spot required a fast walk of roughly a city and a half in cycling shoes, but that was probably unavoidable. The post-race food was good, and I liked that it came from a local business.

We took pictures, grabbed my bike, grabbed some food (which my wife thankfully ate), and headed home.

Last night I hurt. I was tired, underfueled, dehydrated, and my back was angry.

Today?

Pretty good.

I walked to the coffee shop to loosen up my legs. I’m a little sunburned, but otherwise I feel surprisingly normal.

The anxiety is still there, which tells me this is a bigger issue than just a race. But that’s for another day.

Yesterday, I did a hard thing.

My wife and daughter were there to cheer me on.

It’s sunny outside.

I’m sitting in a coffee shop reading.

And despite everything, it is a pretty great to be alive.

 


Jun 13 2026 2026-06-13 2026-06-13 by Ross

Give Your Balls a Tug….That’s What She Said!…No, Really, She Said That.

Posted in Triathlon

Last post on pre-race nervousness.  Promise

I did not sleep well last night. Not even a little. I woke up this morning stressed to the hilt about tomorrow’s 70.3.

I have spent weeks telling myself this is just a supported training day. I have said I don’t care about my time. I have said I am not trying to PR. I have said I have trained well, have a better fueling strategy, have a pacing plan, and the weather is going to be much better than the 85-degree death march I experienced riding the course.

Apparently, my Chimp brain did not receive the memo.

Fortunately, three things pulled me out of my mood.

First, coffee on the back deck. It was sunny and mild. The backyard was full of flowers and plants. Birds were out. It was one of those mornings where you think, “Oh yeah, the world is actually a pretty nice place.”

Second, while reading the newspaper, I came across a quote from the late artist David Hockney:

“The world is very beautiful if you look at it but most people don’t look very much, do they? They scan the ground in front of them so they can walk, but they don’t really look at things incredibly well, with an intensity….I do.”

That hit me.

Sure, it was reminiscent of the famous quote from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off:

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Tomorrow, I am going to look around.

I am going to notice the river. I am going to notice the wooded areas and the farm fields. I am going to appreciate being outside on a day when I am healthy enough to swim, bike, and run for hours.

I am not going to spend the entire race thinking, “This sucks. I hurt. Everyone is passing me.”

Because yes, everyone will probably pass me.

I will come out of the water near the front and then spend the next several hours being passed by people who are better cyclists and runners. That has always bothered me. Tomorrow I will try to look at it differently.

Look at all these people doing something difficult. Look at all these people pushing themselves. Look at all the family members and friends standing around all day cheering for someone they love.

And yes, to be completely honest, there may be moments where I think, “Damn, those are some nice legs.” I am only human, and triathlon women are hot.

The third thing that helped was asking my wife for her opinion. And if you know anything about my wife, asking her opinion means you are definitely going to get it.

Her message was essentially:

“Give your balls a tug.”

A very sophisticated psychological intervention. Part of it was simply: stop navel-gazing. Do the thing. If it goes well, great. If it goes badly, nobody cares.

The other part was her reminding me of everything I have and everything I have done. It was a little bit of Clarence showing George Bailey what his life means in It’s a Wonderful Life.

It still came with “give your balls a tug,” but the message was the same.

She also reminded me of all the parts of tomorrow that have nothing to do with the race.

I get to drive to Rockford with my daughter, who is excited to go to the expo and watch me race. I get to have dinner with my wife and daughter at a restaurant I used to go to as a child. I get to sit in a hotel room watching bad television with them. Tomorrow night, regardless of my time, I get to have deep-dish pizza with my family and then go home and watch hockey with my wife and son.

That sounds like a pretty damn good day.

So I am in a much better place now. I have rested. I have trained. I have a nutrition and hydration plan. I have a pacing strategy. The weather looks cool, which is huge because I hate racing in the heat.

It will be what it will be.

My bad mood will not make me faster. It will not make me stronger. It will not make the race hurt less.

Which brings me to the final quote that keeps coming to mind. In Bridge of Spies, when James Donovan asks Rudolf Abel whether he is worried that the Soviets will shoot him when he is returned, Abel responds:

“Would it help?”

Exactly. Worrying won’t help.  Being anxious won’t help.  As they say, the hay is in the barn.  I have my race pace plan, my nutrition dialed in, and I did what I needed to do.

Tomorrow, I will swim, bike, and run.

I will suffer some.

I will probably complain.

I will definitely look around.

And I will try to remember that I am very lucky to be there.


Jun 12 2026 2026-06-12 2026-06-12 by Ross

My Bhagavad-Gita Moment Before a 70.3…

Posted in Triathlon

It feels somewhat absurd to be sitting at a coffee shop reading the Bhagavad-Gita and thinking, “You know what? This ancient spiritual wisdom about duty, suffering, and the human condition really applies to me and my recreational triathlon.”

To be clear, Arjuna was standing on a battlefield, looking across at relatives, teachers, and friends, facing a conflict that would shape the future of a kingdom.

I am looking at a race course in Rockford and thinking, “That run is going to be really unpleasant.”

The stakes are not exactly the same. And yet, the deeper problem is surprisingly familiar.

For the last two weeks, I have been anxious about this race. Not because I have not trained. I have completed several 70.3 races. I have ridden the course twice. I have swum the distance. I have put in the hours.

The truth is simpler: I am afraid of suffering.

Not the dramatic movie-soundtrack kind of suffering. The very ordinary kind that arrives around mile eight and a half of a half-marathon when your legs begin negotiating a ceasefire, your brain starts offering very reasonable arguments for stopping, and every person who passes you seems to be having a wonderful day.

(They are probably not.)

The Bhagavad-Gita has a remarkably practical answer.

Krishna tells Arjuna:

“You have a right to your actions, but not to the fruits of your actions.”

In other words, focus on what is yours to control and release what is not.

I control:

  • My preparation.
  • My pacing.
  • My fueling.
  • My attitude.
  • My next stroke, pedal stroke, and step.

I do not control:

  • My finishing time.
  • My place in my age group.
  • The weather.
  • Whether someone who looks like he was built in a laboratory specifically for endurance sports goes flying past me on the run.
  • Whether the race decides to hand me a difficult day.

My anxiety has spent a lot of time camping out in that second list. I have been suffering Sunday’s pain for the last two weeks. That seems like a poor bargain.

The Gita also describes the ideal of the “steady person” – someone who remains balanced in success and failure, pleasure and pain, praise and criticism. That does not mean a steady person never hurts. A steady person in a 70.3 does not float through the run saying, “This is delightful. I hope it lasts forever.”

A steady person says:

“This is the hard part. I knew it was coming. I am still here.”

And maybe that is the real challenge of this race.

Not whether I can finish. I have done that before.

Not whether I can run every mile with a smile on my face. That would frankly be suspicious.

The challenge is whether I can take all those books I have been reading this year and actually use them.

  • Epictetus tells me to focus on what I control.
  • Kant tells me to do my duty.
  • Emerson tells me to trust myself.
  • And now the Bhagavad-Gita tells me to act without attachment to the outcome.

It would be a shame to spend the last few months reading the Harvard Classics only to ignore them when I need them most. So on Sunday, when the discomfort arrives—and I have no doubt it will—I want to remember a very ancient lesson applied to a very modern problem.

One stroke.

One pedal stroke.

One step.

Do the work.

Let go of the outcome.


Jun 11 2026 2026-06-11 2026-06-11 by Ross

Why Am I Panicking?

Posted in Training, Triathlon

In three days, I’ll be standing on a riverbank in Rockford waiting for the start of a 70.3 triathlon. And despite telling everyone that this is just a training day, I’m low-grade panicking.

The weird thing is I know I can do it. My training plan actually called for an Olympic-distance race next week, but I couldn’t find one that fit my schedule, so the Rockford 70.3 looked interesting. So I signed up. As one does.

Objectively, I have the fitness. I’ve ridden the actual bike course twice. I’ve run 9 miles several times. I’ve easily swum the 1.2-mile distance. Putting all three together on the same day is different, but it’s not like I’m attempting something I haven’t done before. That’s what makes the anxiety so annoying. It’s not based on reality.

Part of it is that I keep reminding myself this isn’t really a race. It’s a supported training day. I don’t care about my finish time. I know I won’t PR. Looking at my old PR actually makes me laugh. Every time I see it I think, “Who the hell was that guy?” I’d be thrilled if I finished within an hour of that time.

But no matter how much I tell myself it’s just a training day, I know what’s going to happen. I’ll get out of the water feeling pretty good. I’m a decent swimmer and will probably come out in the top 15-20% of the field. Then the bike starts, and the passing starts. And it never stops.

I’ve written about this before, but it’s one of the things I dislike most about triathlon. The people who finish behind me come out of the water behind me. The people who finish ahead of me spend the next five or six hours riding and running past me. I almost never pass anyone. It’s surprisingly discouraging. I know it shouldn’t matter, but after the hundredth person blows by you on the bike, it’s hard not to feel like you’re doing something wrong.

The other thing I’m wrestling with is that I don’t actually like racing. I love training. I love the structure. I love checking off workouts. I love seeing my fitness improve. I love losing a few pounds and feeling healthier. But racing? I hate racing.

In hockey, baseball, basketball, golf, whatever, you practice and then you get to play the game. The game is the reward. Endurance sports are weird. You train for months and then your reward is doing the exact same thing, only harder and longer. There isn’t really a game. There’s just suffering.

And I’ve already done it. I’ve finished marathons. I’ve finished 70.3s. I’ve finished Ironmans. I don’t get the excitement of doing something for the first time. Which raises a legitimate question: why am I doing this again?

A friend of mine recently told my wife, after hearing I’d signed up for Rockford and Ironman Wisconsin, “He just doesn’t know when to come in out of the rain.” That one hit me pretty hard because it’s true. Apparently, I don’t know when to stop doing things I don’t like doing.

The encouraging thing is that I’m trying something new this time. Actually, I’m trying something that most people have been doing all along. I’m fueling. I’m hydrating. I’m pacing.

Looking back, my old race nutrition strategy was basically criminal negligence. On Ironman bike rides, I’d have two water bottles for over seven hours. Two. I’d eat half a sub sandwich at some point. Then I’d mostly survive the marathon on stubbornness and occasional sips of water.

In my last Ironman, a friend finally convinced me to take a caffeinated gel because I was mentally falling apart. Within minutes, I felt dramatically better. The fog lifted. The world seemed brighter. I was convinced the gel contained heroin.

When I explained my fueling history to Claude AI, I swear it laughed at me. The basic response was, “Ross, maybe your mental game isn’t terrible. Maybe you’re just starving.”

Fair point.

So now I have an actual fueling plan. I tested it on my second ride of the Rockford course. The ride was slower than the first attempt, but I felt dramatically better afterward. Not a little better. Dramatically better. I also have an actual pacing strategy. Historically, my pacing strategy was, “Whatever feels good.” It turns out that’s not really a strategy.

This time I’m going to keep my heart rate under a certain ceiling on the bike. If that means I ride five or ten minutes slower, so be it. The theory is that the bike sets up the run. You don’t win your race on the bike, but you can absolutely destroy your run there. On the run, I’m planning to walk the first minute or two until my heart rate settles, and then run about thirty seconds per mile slower than my normal pace. Slow and steady. Which is funny because I literally have a tortoise tattooed on my arm, yet I spend most races trying to be a hare.

The final thing I’ve done is reach out to a sports psychologist. It’s obviously too late for Sunday, but maybe a few conversations can help with the nonstop negative self-talk that has been hanging around for almost sixty years. Better late than never.

So that’s where I am three days out. Nervous. Excited. Dreading it. Looking forward to it. Wondering why I signed up. Glad I signed up. All at the same time.


Jun 08 2026 2026-06-08 2026-06-08 by Ross

This Week in Training – Week 16 – Last Big Week Before the Tune-Up Race

Posted in Cycling, Running, Swimming, Training, Triathlon

This was a significant week for two reasons. First, it was my last week of work before summer break. Second, it was my last build week before I taper and “race” this Sunday.

I put race in quotation marks because this is really just a supported training day. Even so, I’m nervous as heck about it.

Swim 🏊

  • Total swims: 2
  • Total distance: 6,025 yards
  • Total time: 1:55

I was supposed to get in a third swim, but between finishing up school and a hard weekend of training, I dropped it. No regrets. The volume was still solid and I felt good in the water.

Bike 🚴

  • Total rides: 5
  • Total distance: 83.9 miles
  • Total time: 5:31

Four of those rides were commutes, which absolutely count, but aren’t quite the same as dedicated training rides.

The big ride was Saturday when I rode the Rockford 70.3 course for the second time. This time I completely dialed in my nutrition. Big thanks to Claude AI for helping me think through fueling and hydration.

Ironically, the ride was slower than my previous attempt when I nearly dehydrated myself into another dimension. But I felt much stronger throughout. I intentionally kept my heart rate lower and rode within myself.

Afterward, I did a 15-minute run off the bike.

It stunk.

But I learned a few things:

  • Walk for the first 60-90 seconds to bring heart rate down.
  • Start slower than I think I should.
  • Remember that race day should be cooler.

When I started that brick run, it was 81 degrees. Sunday’s forecast calls for a high of 74. That difference is enormous. I do not like hot weather.

Run 🏃

  • Total runs: 4 (including the brick run)
  • Total distance: 23.2 miles
  • Total time: 3:47

This was actually an increase in run volume.

The highlight was Sunday’s 9-mile run. It was one of my slower long runs, but considering it came less than 24 hours after a long ride on the Rockford course, I’ll gladly take it. I got it done and wasn’t that far off my normal pace.

Total Training Time 🧮

  • Total time: 11 hours 13 minutes

My biggest training week of the cycle.

Reflections ✍️

Now comes the part that feels wrong.

The taper.

Today is a rest day. Thursday is another rest day.

Tomorrow I’ll do a short open-water swim. Officially, it’s to get comfortable in the wetsuit. Unofficially, it’s to freeze to death in Lake Michigan.

The rest of the week is ridiculously short workouts. Twenty to thirty-minute rides. Twenty to thirty-minute runs. Just enough movement to stay loose.

I’m putting a lot of faith in the taper.

Sure, my bike was slower this weekend, but I had already run six miles and swum an hour the day before, not to mention all the accumulated fatigue from the week. On Sunday, I’ll be racing on fresh legs. That matters. The cooler temperatures matter. The nutrition plan matters. Even “legal drafting” on the bike course matters. Six bike lengths back is still six bike lengths back.

Mostly, though, I need to trust the process.

If I’m being honest, I’ve probably spent most of the last two weeks somewhere between nervous and a panic attack. I don’t know for sure it’s the race, but I don’t know any other reason. The good news is that once it’s over, I’ll stop wondering and start knowing. I’ve also started planning the next phase. I ran my Ironman plan through Claude and adjusted it for the three weeks I’ll be in Utah this summer. That should make the transition smoother after the race.

For now, though, the focus is simple:

  • Rest.
  • Recover.
  • Enjoy the first week of summer. Try to calm down and reset my existence a little.
  • One week to transition into summer.

Jun 03 2026 2026-06-03 2026-06-03 by Ross

The Known Unknowns of an Eleven-Year Itch…

Posted in Training, Triathlon

It turns out Donald Rumsfeld was a triathlete. Or at least, he perfectly captured the mental degradation that happens two weeks out from a race.

On paper, I’m fine. The base is there. The logbook shows the yards, the miles, and the hours. But there is a massive difference between having the physical capacity to grind out a finish and remembering how to actually execute a multi-sport race when you haven’t stood on a starting line in eleven years. Eleven. Entire political regimes have risen and fallen since I last transitioned from a wetsuit to a bike.

The panic didn’t creep in; it hit me like a crosswind. I was out in Rockford two weeks ago, grinding through a miserable ride on the actual course, when a stray thought bounced into my brain: Oh, yeah. Hydration and nutrition. How exactly am I handling that again?

That’s the Rumsfeld problem. It’s not the things I know I need to fix. It’s the “known unknowns” – the things I know I’ve forgotten, but can’t quite recall until it’s too late. What else am I missing? Am I going to rack my bike and realize I forgot body glide? Am I going to fumble with my bib number? Is my transition setup going to look like a yard sale?

Some is coming back.  This morning, on my bike commute, I thought, “Hey, where am I going to eat the night before the race?  And what am I going to eat?”  It’s little things like that.

Then there’s the swim. Rockford is a downstream river swim. Mechanically, it should be easy-ish – the current does some of the heavy lifting. But the cold reality is that when I jump into that river on June 14th, it will be my first open-water swim event in eleven years. No practice in the murk. No sighting adjustments. Just straight from the pristine, black-lined bottom of the indoor pool to river water. It’s a hell of a way to get reacquainted with the sport.

If I could rewrite the script, I wouldn’t be doing this. In a logical world, the progression is simple: an Olympic distance to dust off the cobwebs, a 70.3 to test the endurance, and then the big dance at the 140.6 in September. In fact, the training plan explicitly called for an Olympic-distance race right about now, pushing the half-Ironman further down the calendar. But the race schedule gods didn’t consult my training plan. The local calendar didn’t line up, the dates didn’t work, and so here we are. I skipped a step. I’m staring down a 70.3 as a “warm-up.”

It’s stupid, but it’s what I have.

The plan for this weekend is damage control. I’m driving back out to Rockford to ride the course again. No illusions of grandeur, just re-familiarizing myself with the asphalt. Afterward, I’ll throw on the running shoes for a quick one- or two-mile brick run off the bike, mostly just to remind my legs of that specific, awful sensation of turning over after ninety kilometers in the saddle.  I’ll practice a transition to run (complete with a fake race bib holder).

At this point, the romanticism of the return is completely gone. I don’t want a poetic breakthrough, and I don’t need a PR. I just want to get this specific weekend over with so I can close the loop on the unknowns and get back to the work I know how to do.


Jun 01 2026 2026-06-01 2026-06-01 by Ross

This Week in Training …Week 15 – Halfway There (Gulp!)…

Posted in Cycling, Running, Swimming, Training, Triathlon

Halfway there.

That is both encouraging and mildly terrifying.

Overall, it was a decent week. A little unusual because I inverted the schedule. I did the long bike and long run at the beginning of the week and then eased off as the week went on. For Week 16, I’ll go back to a more normal structure.

I have two weeks until the Rockford 70.3. After that, I’m going to try rearranging my training week so that Sunday becomes the rest day, the long bike moves to Friday, and the long run moves to Saturday. I hope that I stop nuking entire weekends with training and can actually do things with the family while everyone else is off work.

Swim 🏊

  • Total swims: 3 (FINALLY!)
  • Total distance: 7,550 yards
  • Total time: 2:24

Nothing spectacular, but solid. A little boring, perhaps, but solid. The biggest victory is simply getting in that third swim. It only took fifteen weeks.  I also managed to do one core strength workout.  Miracles do happen!

Bike 🚴

  • Total rides: 3
  • Total distance: 87.5 miles
  • Total time: 5:16

The bike week was a little strange.

Monday was the Rockford course ride, which I’ve already written about. Let’s just say I learned some valuable lessons about hydration, sunscreen, and not leaving critical equipment in the car.

I also missed a brick workout during the week, so yesterday I squeezed in a 1:20 ride after the 5K race.

Unfortunately, that ride had to be on the e-bike because my local bike shop seems to have a unique interpretation of the word “appointment.”

I dropped the bike off on Tuesday for my Thursday appointment.

“We’ll call by the end of business Thursday.”

Nope.

Friday?

“We’re backed up.”

Saturday?

Nope.

Sunday?

Nope.

If it’s not done today, I’m picking it up, getting my deposit back, and taking it somewhere else.

Run 🏃

  • Total runs: 4
  • Total distance: 19.4 miles
  • Total time: 3:05

This included:

  • A 9-mile-long run
  • A 6-mile medium run
  • A 5K race
  • A 1-mile run off the bike

I felt very strong during the 5K. I wound up finishing 7th in my age group out of 35 runners.

Looking at the results afterward, I realized I probably could have challenged for a podium spot. Unfortunately, I was serving as the designated rabbit for my daughter, who wanted to break 30 minutes. She did.

Mission accomplished.

That meant my first two miles were slower than they otherwise would have been, but I wouldn’t trade that result for a slightly faster finishing time.

Total Training Time 🧮

  • Total time: 10:45

A pretty substantial week.

Training Metrics 📈

TrainingPeaks:

  • Fitness: 117
  • Fatigue: 140
  • Form: -5

All good.

Fitness continues to creep upward while fatigue has actually come down significantly from the peak. What really surprised me is how much better I feel physically.

A few weeks ago, I was so sore that rolling over in bed felt like a chore. Now I’m doing nearly twice the training load with maybe half the soreness.

My Garmin metrics reflect that too. Body Battery and Training Readiness have both improved noticeably.

For fun, I went back and looked at Strava Relative Effort. The last time I posted it regularly was around Week 3.

Back then:

  • Week 3 RE: 622

This week:

  • RE: 1,193

Dayum.

Looking Ahead

Today should be a rest day. It won’t be.

I don’t like starting the week with a rest day because life always seems to intervene later in the week. Last week I missed a brick workout and wound up with a very long Sunday because of it. I’d rather run and swim today so that when the inevitable scheduling disaster arrives later in the week, I’m not scrambling to catch up.

This week I’ll head back to the Rockford course and see whether I’ve fixed some of the issues from the first attempt. As for the 70.3 itself, I’m not planning much of a taper. It’s a training day, not an A-race. The goal is experience, execution, and learning.

All in all, I’m feeling good about the progress.

Halfway there. Only fifteen more weeks to go.

 


May 27 2026 2026-05-27 2026-05-27 by Ross

All the Endurance Training Emotions in 48 Hours

Posted in Training, Triathlon

I was pretty discouraged after Monday’s ride. It was slower and harder than I wanted it to be. I know I made mistakes – and I’m fixing them – but it was one of those rides where you start wondering if you’re ready for the 70.3 in two weeks and, more ominously, whether you’ll ever be ready for the A-race in 15+ weeks.

Then yesterday happened.

I got my 9-mile run done. It wasn’t fast, and it definitely felt hard, but my legs were dead going in, so that was expected. Honestly, finishing that run actually encouraged me. Running 9 miles on trashed legs is probably a good sign. Add in the fact that I’m actively fixing the bike issues from Monday, and the discouragement started to fade.

I think this is just part of endurance training. Maybe all endurance training. There’s always a point where you question everything – even when training is objectively going well.

You hit your 20-miler while marathon training and immediately think:
“Great… now I just have to run ANOTHER 6.2 miles.”

So I did what everyone does: I went online looking for reassurance. Thankfully, the internet delivered. Yes, most people feel this way. No, I am not racing tomorrow. Yes, there are still months of training left. Relax. Trust the process.

Unfortunately, last night I made another mistake.

I made a fantastic homemade pizza and topped it with salami. Now, at my age, I know better than to eat spicy/salty food near bedtime. And yet…

I washed it down with not one, not two, but THREE Olipops. High fiber. Excellent decision-making.

From about 2:00 a.m. until 5:30 a.m., my subconscious decided to put on a festival of insecurities.

In one dream, it was like some Mad Men-era dinner scene where my wife and her ex-fiancé were discussing getting back together… while I sat there. She agreed and left me. Cool, cool, cool.

Then another dream had me in a bizarre job interview in a hotel room. One guy was sitting on the bed, two were in chairs, and my mother was there for some reason. I sat on the bed during the interview and afterward became convinced I bombed it because I should’ve chosen a chair. Meanwhile, my mother silently disapproved of everything.

So apparently, the Spicy Pizza-Olipop Dream Trilogy covered:

  • abandonment
  • inadequacy
  • maternal judgment

Good stuff.

When I finally crawled out of bed this morning (after stopping myself from clutching my wife like a life raft), I noticed something surprising: my legs felt… good. Not “auditioning for Riverdance” good, but legitimately recovered. Like I could actually go run again if needed.

I foam rolled last night and again this morning before work, and I’m honestly thrilled with how well I bounced back from the long bike and run combo. That recovery gives me confidence.

Today is just a swim, and then easing back into the rest of the week reasonably recovered.

Nutrition: The Missing Piece

I also realized something important: my training nutrition this cycle has been very different from previous Ironman builds.

My diet is actually better overall, but my training nutrition has been terrible. I haven’t really been using gels, carb drinks, or recovery drinks consistently.

That obviously hurt me on Monday’s bike ride, but looking back, I also did basically nothing before, during, or after yesterday’s 9-miler. No gel beforehand. No recovery drink afterward. Nothing.

That’s dumb.

So I’m fixing it:

  • gels ordered
  • carb drink coming for the bike
  • recovery powder on the way

I also took my bike to the local bike shop yesterday for:

  • major tune-up
  • new tires (slightly wider too)
  • fresh grip tape

I’m adding a second bottle cage too. And yes, I’ll actually bring the bottles next time.

I’m also really liking my newer shoes: Hoka Mach X 3.

Most importantly, I’ve reframed the June 14 70.3. It’s a supported training day. That’s it. I don’t care about PRs. I don’t care about the finish time. I’m just practicing putting three sports together over a long day.

That mental shift feels healthy.

All good. Onward.

Relentless forward motion.


May 25 2026 2026-05-25 2026-05-25 by Ross

Today in How Not To Train…

Posted in Cycling, Training, Triathlon

Last week accidentally became a rest week after Friday. Honestly, it was needed. I was beat up, had some life stuff going on, and training just wasn’t going to happen the way I wanted. Even after two full days off, my legs still hurt. That should’ve been a clue.

Because next weekend is also going to be goofy schedule-wise, I decided to flip the week around and do my long bike today and long run tomorrow. Seemed smart enough.

The plan was to ride the Rockford 70.3 bike course. I drove up to Rockford and was rolling by about 8:15. Unfortunately, I was hurrying because I wanted to “still have a day left” afterward. That rushing led to a spectacular collection of unforced errors.

First mistake: I didn’t bring or take any pain meds even though I knew my back would start hurting in the first hour. Which it did. It eventually loosened up, but I spent half the ride standing up to stretch it out.

Second mistake: I accidentally left my phone in the car. Not a huge issue… until it potentially becomes a huge issue.

Third—and this one was genuinely stupid—I didn’t notice my water bottle came out in the car. I noticed about two miles in that I didn’t have it. I absolutely should have turned around. Even if it added time or mileage. Instead, I figured, “Eh, I can go a while without water. I’ll just stop at a mini mart somewhere.”

Which would’ve been a great plan if there had been a mini mart somewhere.  The only “town” I rode through wasn’t even halfway, and I thought, “I’m sure there will be other chances to buy some water.”  Nope.  Not a one.  It got so bad that I was looking for any farmer with a hose on the side of the house.  Didn’t see any of those either.

Hurrying also meant I didn’t check the weather carefully. Which I should have because it was 85 degrees and sunny. So now my arms and knees are sunburned because I also forgot sunscreen. Great work all around.

By mile 50 of 56, I had to stop and sit in the shade by someone’s house for five minutes because I felt faint. Pretty sure I was flirting with heat exhaustion between the heat and the no-water strategy. This was also the point where not having my phone suddenly seemed like a much bigger mistake.

At mile 53, I had to walk one uphill block because I was absolutely cooked. Some of that was dehydration, but honestly, the bigger factor was the wind. The entire second half—about 28 miles—was straight into a headwind.

I should’ve known the first half was too easy.

In the front half I was actually wondering whether I should extend the ride beyond 56 miles to hit a total time of 3:30. The universe answered that question for me. The headwind took care of any “extra miles” thoughts immediately.

So did the heat.
And the lack of water.
And the elevation.

The course map claims 1,931 feet of climbing. My Garmin says 2,733 feet. One of them is lying, and I’m siding with Garmin. It felt like 10,000 feet by mile 50.

Also, I swear there was no downhill. Mile 54 might’ve had some. Maybe.  I know I sound like some old man saying they rode to school uphill both ways, but that’s what it felt like!

And despite having turn-by-turn navigation on my Garmin, I still made a wrong turn. Thankfully, it didn’t add distance because part of the course is parallel to out-and-back roads, but naturally, I’m convinced the route I missed had all the downhill sections.  You can see on the Garmin file where I should’ve kept going straight instead of turning onto 70

Final numbers:

  • 56.69 miles
  • 3:34 ride time
  • 2,733 feet of climbing
  • 16.5 average speed

When I finally got back to the car, I chugged water and drove straight to a mini mart where I purchased:

  • one gigantic water
  • one gigantic soda
  • one bag of chips for the salt

It took most of the drive home before I could even eat the sandwich I had packed.

Initially, sitting in the car, I was discouraged. The whole ride felt like a disaster. And honestly? It was kind of a disaster.

But I stopped the negative spiral pretty quickly and reframed it as a learning ride. Because it was.

Lessons learned:

  • Water matters. (Groundbreaking…smh.)…My Garmin estimates I lost 2910ml of water.  For someone 205 lbs, that’s 3.1% of my body weight lost and puts me in moderate dehydration.  So, MORE WATER!
  • I need a second bottle cage before race day.
  • Sunscreen exists for a reason.
  • Feeding still needs work.
  • Bananas mid-ride don’t sit well for me.
  • Honey packets are magical.

I also recalibrated my goals for the 70.3. This is really just a training race. I’m probably not PR’ing compared to my last 70.3, which was 12 years ago. And that’s okay. The race is basically a supported long training day.

Honestly, I’d like to ride the course again before race day if I can. I like reconning courses, and Chicago doesn’t exactly prepare you for rolling hills and endless false flats.

Once home, I took a long shower, kept sipping water, sat on the couch reading, and had a nice family dinner.

Tomorrow I’ll attempt the long run, though I may scale it back to the actual planned 7.5 miles instead of the How Not To Train version of 9.5.

We’ll see.

But I will bring sunscreen.
And water.