We all have an emotional pre-race routine in the weeks leading up to a big event. Some of us naturally ooze with confidence based on delicately crafted training plans and preparation, or maybe we are simply optimistic for a positive outcome. Others are filled with apprehension over missed workouts, a nagging injury that might show itself or perhaps a last minute item left off of some checklist. Attitude can go a long way towards winning or losing depending on how you measure it against your expectations.

In the days leading up to most races, I doubt. I am nervous, set my expectations low, don’t think I did nearly enough to prepare for the event. Come a day or two before the race though, I compartmentalize those fears, focus on what it will take to achieve my goals in the race and on game day, I execute. Nine times out of ten, I blow my expectations away and cant believe I was able to accomplish so much.

Muncie was a little different. I came into the race bloodthirsty … craving a savage beat down of the course. Not just wanting to PR, but to break the 5 hour barrier. Wanting to avenge the 3 hour thunderstorm from the previous year and lay down a huge bike split on dry roads. For weeks, I had the confidence that my training was going to take me across that finish line to glory.

The swim was largely uneventful for me. It ended up being wet suit legal at 77F, but I had no intentions of wearing one so I didn’t even pack it. Turns out EVERYONE else brought theirs and I was one of about 3 people in my wave that wasn’t wearing one. Being a strong swimmer, I wasn’t concerned and just wanted to do at least as good as last years time. I weaved efficiently through the pack, did a fair job sighting, passed people in the two waves ahead of me and got out of the water feeling great about my shot at a sub 5 hour race.

My heart rate was racing well above Lactate Threshold and into the 170s, but it didnt matter. The flattest, most well protected part of the course was just ahead and I wanted to crush that section so I didnt let my silly heart rate monitor slow me down averaging 23.3mph over this 5 mile section! Right about when we were to pull a u-turn and head out onto the main highway for the remainder of the race, I did some quick math and something wasnt adding up. For where I was at in the race, I somehow couldnt account for 5 minutes. I felt great in the swim, my transition was blistering but both my Garmin and my bike computer told the same story. At that point, the only conclusion was that I swam 5 minutes slower than I had planned?!

That did not sit well with me and my hopes for revenge against this course were slipping away. I told myself that I would just have to make it up on the bike then. This of course is the point in the story where many a well intentioned triathlon goes to pot because the athlete wastes his legs and saves nothing for the run.

I essentially began to ignore my heart rate monitor all together and was just racing on feel. I felt like I could keep this pace up for another 2 hours, so I just went with it. Try as I might, the deliciously flat bike course had some nasty winds again that day, bringing with it a thunderstorm for the second year in a row. I forced myself to keep the pace up hoping that at the mile 28 turnaround, I would be treated to a tail wind.

Oddly enough, I was treated to said tail wind. My average speed of 21.8 at that point started climbing again, and climbing and climbing as the tail wind persisted. I was ecstatic and was even able to drop the heart rate into the 150s for a bit.

Thats when the rain started. For the second year in a row, the skies above Northeast Indiana decided to open up around and unload wind, rain, thunder and lightning. At this point I only 30 minutes or so remaining and I knew I was on pace for a good bike split. This just motivated me even more to return to mother earth and get off those slick roads. As I powered home, the finish line strangely appeared at mile 54.6? Looking at my race data from last year, my Garmin reports the exact same number: 54.6. I swear that course is short. I wasnt complaining as I ended up shaving 10 minutes off of last years time and more importantly rebuilding my spirits after the terrible swim that I put in. I blasted through another record setting transition and headed out to see what was left in my legs.

And there they were. The legs were right where I needed them to be. During the bike and now into the run, even though my heart rate was a little high, I was relying less and less on that data and more on how I actually felt. I felt like I could keep going at a 7:30 pace all day. I found a few people to pace off of and headed off into the downpour for the next 13.1 miles.

I went sockless with my Zoot racing flats for the first time in a race (yes I train with them) and even decided to leave my fuel belt behind and just pick up gels along the way. In hindsight that was a gamble and goes against the ‘nothing new on race day’ rule, but as was a theme for the day, I was out for blood and all about speed.

I set my goals up of being able to make the turn at 50 minutes on the out and back course and trying to put down a 1:40 minute half marathon, but my legs kept telling me to keep the pace up. Even when the hills came, my legs were there. I decided not to change up the formula and when I hit the halfway mark at 49:00 flat, I knew this was going to a great race. I found a new, faster pacer around mile 7 and followed them through to mile 10 where I took the duty of pulling him along for a few miles until he fell off. I found a new one with about 2 miles to go that was running a little bit faster than I wanted to go, but at this point, it was time to start emptying the tank. I caught her over the next mile and with 1.1 to go realized I was going to smash my goal time by almost 15 minutes. The thoughts of moonwalking across the finish line escaped me as I crested the hill which revealed the finishing chute and I blasted ahead to record a 4:45:26 dropping 17 minutes off of my 2008 time.

Sometimes you can be your own harshest critic, and other times you can be your own biggest fan. Perhaps even both at the same time: being critical enough to demand success but being smart enough to be humble in the success you are able to achieve. While I am proud of my efforts, I always know there is an unseen x-factor in any race which keeps me from injury, accident, stomach issues, cramping, equipment failure, any number of which can take my goals and replace them with reality. I am truly grateful for the success I achieved through Gods grace alone. Onward to IMKY and the sub 11 hour Ironman.