My week, did I put up a fight? The risk I’m taking, I’m still shaking, and the answer is yes

Here we are into a "rest week" consisting of 12 hours of training. Only 6 short weeks until 47 weeks of preparation pays off, IMLP.

After a big race, the pain my body is in, is nothing compared to how badly my soul aches. Everything I’ve ever wanted shifted this past week.

Everything that I’m made of, every time in life I was an underdog, or when the chip was knocked off my shoulder, or was beat down when I was young and was told I can’t accomplish something flashed real-time in my life this week.

I slept little, ate even less and as programmed as I am, missed no workouts in a peak phase. My weight fell below my Lake Placid goal of 142 to 139.

I’m not letting you know about this because I think its cool, or that I’m a stud, etc. It’s just the way I’m wired. I’ve had countless episodes’ in my life when the harder it becomes, the more hardened my resolve. I have no idea why I’m this way, but “it is what it is”.

This was race week at Mooseman with almost all of Qt2 on hand. This race was the race to see what almost 40 weeks of some of the most difficult training created. This race was not a race that I was to PR. I had in excess of 22 hours of training into this race, and was to run 45 minutes after followed by a 1:30 min bike. This was the race to see how Placid was going to go and determine if I was even close to where I need to be. It was a miracle I could toe the line at all. Several days prior, I even thought that this would be the one race that would kill me. I’m not being dramatic; I was not in a good place.

The pull of what I’ve put into this process was/is so strong that there was no question of what I would do. You know the answer, persevere.

Here we go….
Friday night, went out to dinner and tried to start the carbo- load, but was in no mood to eat. From there, attended my daughter’s unbelievable school presentation. Our daughter rocked her performance. Got home a bit late and ended up watching the sunrise. Virtually no sleep, or I’d say an hour. Alarm pops off, 5:30 AM and time to drive to Bristol NH to meet up with the team to cheer on the Olympic race on Saturday morning. Another blowout team showing.

Head over to “Plain Janes” to stuff my skinny ass with pancakes. After seeing racers a couple hours before, I’m able to get my mind into what I need to do only little. My team is so fun, and motivational and there is some jest between us. We all compare notes of our race times, etc from coaches. The competitive juices start to flow and fade. Even though I’m not my usual self and limping around, I ask myself what am I doing here"? I want to quit this shit here and now and go home. I tell not a soul.

The day progresses and I follow the whole process of eating, and carbo- loading. I’m exhausted and fade into bed around 9PM, because there is nothing left. Alarm goes off at 3AM and its applesauce time. I get all the sauce down and my roommate Andy is on the same routine. We finish up and drive down to the start.

Check my bike in and rack it. The guy across from me has is bike racked wrong and over all my stuff. I have my iPod on and I’m in a trance with what probably was the scariest game face anyone had witnessed. My friend Neil lectured me about taking pictures before my last start and to and to dial my state. Not this time or this race.

I asked the guy in front of me to change his bike (nicely) and he went off on me like a punk. I pulled my headphones off and told him I would throw his fucking bike in the water in two seconds if he did not switch it, it was his choice. Now this was not right, and I’m no tough guy, but I was a little stressed!! He complied.

4th wave this day. The water is known to be some of the coldest mountain water around. Prior day reports were that your extremities would freeze and that your body would hurt all over once in the water. I go to the swim a little early and dove in to see if I could acclimate. It was choppy lake conditions with a stiff breeze coming in. As soon as I came out of the water my body would not stop shaking. Bone chilling stuff.

I was about ten minutes away from my start and I began to transform my mind for what was in front of me. I thought of all of the people who are dear to me, to say thank you for another chance, and to say to myself, you are prepared even though you had a bad week. You will take each part of the race and tackle it.
The announcer calls up our wave, the green caps. Fuck it, I want up front and maximum thrashing on this day, I’m lead row.

Countdown, and I’m off. I nailed the first loop like never before. The water is so cold and my lungs are compressed. I’m getting banged all over and a hand rips threw my left ear. I get off course for a spell and bang into the first buoy looking for more contact. I round the first buoy and get off course again. Huge problem with sighting. My goggles begin to fill as I surround the last major turn. I can’t see much and look for legs and bodies to follow. It was so choppy that I might as well been in the Atlantic all alone (symbolic). Nothing to see. I continue and see an aide in a kayak wave me onto the course.
It was the worst sighting I’ve ever had.

I get out into the beach, peak at the watch, and see that I’ve just pr’d my swim and hit my swim goal time for the day.
Sprint into T2 and can’t find my bike. I was so tired before the race; I had no idea where my bike was. I leap under a few racks and find it and I’m off.

On this bike day I was to average 210 watts and 2:36. About 10 minutes into the bike I crack open my powebar for nutrition all neatly prepared. I carefully open it take one bite, roll down the rapper and hit a bump in my aero position. Bar pops out of my hands and that yummy meal is gone for the day!!! Plan B; take a Gel Shot now since I seem to always drop at least one.
About 30 minutes into the bike I feel tired and not as fresh as some of my Z1/Z2 training rides. Most of my rides now for training are over 5 hours. Big build week and all of the stresses showed their head at every turn for me. I sigh, mind tumbles and does as I often do; I tear down the challenge to small parts and begin to make progress.

The bike progresses and I’m dead-on with my goal even though it was much harder from a perceived effort than I expected. Vault off the bike to a great cheering section. My running watch falls off my bike and I have to turn around. My uniform and its reputation garner respect and appreciation. I also have some nice friendship and support. I hear my name and I’m heading into the promise land. The run.

The run.. Well, the training I do with my schedule, almost all of my runs are off the bike. I never get the chance to pause for training bricks. It’s like I do a tri every day. It is what it is.

I exit T3 and onto the run course and I feel like crap. The thing about the run, every tri I’ve done my legs are crazy in good shape coming off the bike because most of the muscles go to sleep. Today, my legs are done. I run for a bit away from the hoard of people and I’m as beat down as you can get. I take four steps and this guy with an amazing run vaults past me. I see his right calf, he’s 41. The guy looks like a cheetah and he has no sweat on him and his leg were turning over without effort. At that very moment, I looked into the sky and began to cry. I flash my kids, my life my sacrifice and my struggle. I say aloud, fuck this Mark, you never quit and today will not be that day. I’m crying now as I write this because even typing it is that powerful!

I lean forward and race! The goal for today before this episode, run a 6:55 pace for the 13.1. I put forth a good few minutes and come over a big hill and over take another 40-45 racer. He is fit and it gave me a little boost. But this day is about catching that one guy who went by me. He was my mini goal and I knew I would catch him. For what It meant of my day, I had no idea because I never look at my watch ever for overall time during the race. I try to tackle what is in front of me.

As I enter the first loop, I see my focus (the guy) come around the bend with about a 5-minute lead on me. I bear down and head back to complete the first loop. As I finish up the first 7 miles, I don’t see this guy. The next few minutes I begin the major suffering that triathlons are known for. I can only guess what I look like, but at this point nothing can stop me. I know that I only have seven more miles to run, and its mind of matter.

As I head into the 9th mile, I see my guy in front of me about a mile in front. This is all I need. I begin to go about the process of reeling him in.

Time clicks on and I’m near this guy to his right. I’m in lock step of his cadence but behind him. He heads into a water station and looks like he is over heating. He takes one water and then another and stops to drink. At that exact moment I put a push on and go right past him. He throws his cup and starts up off. He must have seen my calf.
The race is now on and I’m dead-on inspired. If the race were to end there, I would have felt complete. It was amazing to me that I could pull that off to that point.

As the next couple of miles progressed, my guy attacked me all the way to the finish with big bursts. I kept looking over my shoulder and each time he bursted, I dropped the hammer down to another gear. I broke him and on this day, he created me.

I rounded the beach, and sprinted to the finish. I had had a pr, matched the goal. Totally on track for Placid. Just unbelievable.
I peaked at my Garmin to see I did the last couple miles at 5:43. Nothing was going to stop me on this day!

My guy came in soon after me. He tapped me on the shoulder and told me that our duel was the best time he has ever had in over 15 years in the sport. He was winded and thanked me for making it such a special day. I gave him a big hug and told him, “You have no idea of what you meant for my day”. He was amazed that this was only my 4th tri.

I found a quite place at the finish. Usually I search for a phone to call my loved ones to let them know I’m ok. Not today, it was the shore, some quite tears and I.
Now, I need to be clear, this is not how I envisioned this year, or my life. I don’t like it is however; I think this weekend will remain deeply engrained as a long list of defining moments in my life.

Soon after, we departed for our run after the race. You get that? Run another 45 minutes after all out racing then 1:30 bike ride? As we started to run, racers look at us like we are insane. I foolishly ran with Tim Snow and Jesse the team pros for their recovery run at an 8:05 pace. It was about a 20 mile running day. Well, here is what it means. The top 7 out of 10 slots are Qt2. Our team dominated virtually every category. Some of the best racers in the region and we rocked it.

I sat down with Tim Snow and we talked about my week. Tim went on to say that my mental toughness was impressive. He told me that there would be many moments like this at IMLP. I should have no problem in his opinion.
My friend Neil another Kona athlete sent me a nice note letting me know how impressed he was with me this week. He told me he knew how beat up I was before this race.

Again, this story does not have an ending as of yet. It was by far the worst week of my life on so many levels. I can only look forward to gleaming the meaning of all this. My race has just begun and I miss my kids.