A training-regimen switch from Ironman to ultra is waylaid by a misplaced stone.

ColoradoTriathlete.com

fter 16 years of my life being focused around the month of October

and the Ironman Triathlon World Championships, I really had not thought about what I would do when or if I lost that focus. In 2007, I placed fourth in Hawaii and was the top American again in the sport. That is a career highlight for many athletes and most would be ecstatic, especially after a few lackluster performances in recent years.

As I stood on the stage with the other top 10 men in 2007, I was not excited to be there and couldn’t place why. What I did know is that something needed to change before I could put another effort into that race and again feel a sense of accomplishment. At the time, I had no idea what any

A Tim DeBoom is greeted by his wife, Nicole, as he crosses the finish line in the 2007 Arizona Ironman.

of it meant. However, over the next month—a time when I would usually begin planning for another run at the title—I had no competitive desires at all. I stayed active by hiking and riding my mountain bike, but I was not ready to plan another triathlon season. I was in need of some inspiration, but I did not know where to look for it.

Just when I was really beginning to wonder whether I should trudge through another triathlon season and hope things came around, an accident served as the catalyst for a nice change of pace. I live in the foothills of Boulder, Colorado, and I was headed out the door for a short run. I took one step, slipped on a small patch of ice, and landed hard on my hands. I did not know it right away, but I had broken a bone in my hand with that fall. Normally, I would have been concerned about how the broken hand would affect my season, but the fact that riding my bike and swimming had just been taken out of the equation for a while did not bother me at all. I looked forward to a forced rest of sorts and doing what I could to keep a respectable level of fitness.

Idefinitely still needed my daily doses of activity, however. After so many years of grinding out miles, my body and mind couldn’t just shut off and do nothing but wait for my hand to heal. I ended up heading out for a run each morning with no prescribed intentions of distance or pace. I was able to run for the sheer joy of running for the first time in more than a decade. There are a few loops from my house that I would run, and the time averaged between 45 minutes and an hour. The trails were snow covered most of the winter, but that did not bother me at all. Without the pressure of specific race-oriented workouts, I found myself running slower and exploring places that before had not fit into my schedule.

Wandering with time to spare

After a few weeks, I noticed that I was not starting my watch anymore when I left the house, and my runs began to wander. I would be out for an hour and a half and not even notice the extra time. It was liberating, to say the least, and each day I looked forward to where I would explore next. I also was beginning to crave a second workout later in the day, which was a nice surprise. I love being outdoors, and after so many years of eight-hour days outside, I was craving more sun time. I started to go for short hour-long hikes in the evening. A great trail outside my door called the Hogback goes straight up one side of a mountain and down the back. It is a great way to finish off any day and ended up being good strength work as well.

One morning in early February, I had a particularly great run. My hand had healed and my run was feeling strong, but I still wasn’t ready to start back with the structured life I had before. Having always been intrigued by some of the longer ultramarathons, I loved the idea of doing the Gore-Tex TransRockies Run. I planned on doing Imogene Pass sooner than later, and I always thought I would take my shot at the Western States 100. Leadville was on my radar because it was basically in my backyard, and many people I knew had done it or crewed for someone who had. However, I did not ever think I would run one of these during my triathlon career—especially while I was still at the top of the sport.

During that run, I began to feel the urge for some kind of goal to go after, but it had to be something different . . . something out of my normal routine of the past decade. The challenge of Ironman was a bit lost, as I knew I could finish it after the first year I did it in 1992. I really wanted to get back to the challenge of that feeling of “Can I even finish this thing?” I got home from that run and all I could say to my wife was, “I think I’m going to run Leadville.” As much as that surprised her, and even me to an extent, we both knew it was the right answer.

Thad a little under six months to get myself ready to run 100 miles at high altitude. Until this point, I had never run more than 26.2 miles and had no intentions or aspirations of winning. For the first time in a long time, my only goal ina race was just to finish. I have a lifetime of endurance training under my belt, and I know how to suffer with the best of them. Living in Boulder, I was also very comfortable on all types of trails and had not had problems at higher altitudes. However, Leadville was going to be a new challenge completely, and I needed to research a little to see just how to train for something of this magnitude.

I looked at some books, read some related blogs, and quickly discovered that nobody trained the same for these kinds of races—mileages were all over the board, and opinions on what the longest training run should be leading into a 100-miler varied greatly as well. I decided to approach it like the beginning of my triathlon career: take what I knew about myself and the training I had done before, and adapt it to this new event.

Changing gears—big-time The one obvious change was to increase my running time each week compared with what I did for triathlons. When in my “push” phase of Ironman training, I averaged between six and eight hours of running per week. Combine this with 20 or more hours of riding, six to eight hours of swimming, lifting weights, and core work, and I had 35-hour weeks of training—all that for an eight-hour race. Now, I wondered, how do I get ready for what was to be a 24-hour run? I knew I would not be spending this much time running, but it had to be more than six hours a week. Cross-training continued to be my ally. I did not hear much about the top ultrarunners doing much else than running, but I know that the bike builds great strength and endurance, and besides, I love it. The beauty was that I could do all the rides I loved and not worry about the ones that were specific to Ironman racing. That meant much more time on the mountain bike than on the roads. I also planned to continue my weightlifting to increase leg strength and really focus on my core body to keep my running form solid. I can also feel a real difference when I slack on the abdominal work. The one activity that could take a back seat during this time would be my swimming. I have swum competitively since I was 6 years old, so I could justify a little time off from the pool.

P Tim’s wife, Nicole, is also an Ironman champion and provides a solid training partner.

The first month, I continued to slowly increase my morning runs and started running trails around Boulder that featured more ups and downs. I would alternate days on some serious hilly terrain, like running up one of the canyons, with a flatter trail run around the local reservoir. It was hard to believe that I had gone from running an hour each day to almost two hours every morning. When I trained for the Ironman, my longest runs would be two and a half hours about every other week. I was definitely in new territory.

Besides the morning run, I had added a couple of hours of mountain biking several times a week. Each ride would have 3,000 to 4,000 feet of climbing, and I could tell that I was getting stronger. I also continued with the Hogback each evening, but it had turned into a second run. Before, I did a double run only once a week, and it never felt good. Now I was running doubles almost every day. This is the part of the equation that taught me a little more about ultra pacing.

Thad been doing my morning runs at a normal long-run pace for me (comfortable, but not slow). Some days, I had to start quite a bit slower than normal, but midway through the run I developed a feeling of strength and a sense of getting the speed going. The evening runs started straight uphill and kept going, so I would start shuffling to get myself going and just climb up the hill. By the end, my legs had come around and I felt ready for the next morning. This was new to me. Running really slowly could actually be recovery! Because I was not

running that much in my triathlon training, each workout was important, and I never felt recovered by easy running. I guess it was because I wasn’t running easily enough.

Photo by Cary Jobe

Slowing down doesn’t mean slow racing

T experienced this further when I started the next stage of my training. I needed to stop the daily grind and mix things up to include even longer runs than the two hours I was currently doing. I started to go out on long weekend runs and hikes with my wife, Nicole, and run at her pace. She was a world-class triathlete herself, but her pace was still slower than mine and could help me get down toward that ultra pace even more. I really enjoyed these weekend runs with her. When I was concerned about speed, I never got the chance to modify my program to accommodate it, but now it was all about slowing down and time on the feet. I also was adding some short 5K and 10K races to wake up the speed in my legs so that they were not always running the same pace. I was surprised that I could still go out and pop off a 16-minute 5K with all the slow miles I had been logging. Another key component of the race would be my nutrition. I knew from winning the Ironman a couple of times that it can come down to proper fueling, and Leadville would not be any different. I really thought this would be an advantage for me, because I was so used to eating on

the go. Bike, run, whatever—I knew how to fuel. Even when my body did not want anything, I was able to get it down. I also had no problems with different drinks. I used many electrolyte drinks and water and always had a can of Red Bull on hand. ad The big issue with 100 miles is that I knew I would get tired of my normal PowerBars and gels before I was done. Although I knew they would work great for most of the run, I had to start experimenting with some new stuff. My staple became peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They tasted good, gave me some salt, and had a “real food” feel to them. I had also dealt with using salt tablets in the Hawaiian heat to supplement my sodium levels if needed, so that was part of the plan as well.

All this was done over the first few months. Once summer rolled around and the race was drawing closer, I was still nervous about my chances of even finishing.

Thad been hitting 15 to 18 hours a week of running daily doubles (for you mileage junkies, I was estimating upward of 150 miles a week), had some longer weekend runs, and was still mountain biking and lifting, but I knew I needed more. I headed up over the July Fourth weekend to run my first marathon outside of an Ironman. It was not on the Leadville 100 course, but it was near enough, and I knew that it would be a good test to see where I was in my training. I decided to do it only a couple of days before the race, so I didn’t rest and figured that I would just have fun.

Thad a little trouble sleeping the night before, and I chalked it up to ascending 5,000 feet in altitude the next day. Watching the July Fourth fireworks up there was spectacular, though, and it put me in the right mood for a great run in the morning. I was very relaxed before the start of the race and I started as easily as I could, allowing a few guys to get ahead of me. I carried a bottle and tried to refill it at the aid stations, along with taking in several gels. The run went up Mosquito Pass, which tops out over 13,000 feet. In the middle of the race, I had a familiar feeling. It was a feeling similar to when | did my first Half Ironman attempt before moving up to the full. I was thinking, What have I gotten myself into?

First, but not quite

I knew the race was an out-and-back run, so the whole way out I was contemplating the return trip and how it was going to feel—considering that I was already feeling pretty tired. I struggled through, and at the end, I had actually finished first: first male, that is. I had been beaten by the overall women’s winner, or as everyone seemed to tell me, I got “chicked.” That was new to me, and it did not bother me at all! I had no ego, which was part of this plan from the beginning.

A lot was learned from running in the marathon, and after evaluating the day, I knew how to finish my training before the actual 100. To begin with, I knew that I had to do some more high-altitude runs above 10,000 feet. I could get up to that level easily from Boulder, and it would actually be exciting to explore some new areas in the place I call home. The bigger factor was that I had to implement more power hiking into some of the steep ascents to keep my heart rate under control and thus conserve energy. I think I could have been faster at the marathon if I had figured that out earlier. Last, I knew that I had to rest leading up to the big day. Tapering down the training hours was going to be vital.

So, with about five weeks to go, I spent my weekends running and hiking up at the Continental Divide and continuing my other training down in Boulder. I was still nervous about the race, but I could also feel the excitement about doing something this new and challenging building within me. I entertained thoughts of jumping into the 50-miler in Leadville for a little more confidence boosting but got enough advice against it and decided to save myself for the 100.

During the last two weeks before the event, I began to gather my gear. It seemed like I was getting ready for an expedition to a distant continent with everything I needed to put together. I needed separate bags for each aid station. These included extra clothes, food, shoes, and anything else that might be needed out there. Having lived in Colorado for quite a while, I knew the weather could be a complete beast by itself. So I also bought a new, really bright headlamp to test on some night runs, as that was something I had not done much before.

My wife was in charge of my crew, and I had some friends joining us who had crewed before and would be invaluable out on the course. Speaking of the course, the one regret I had leading into the race was that I did not spend much time getting to know the actual course. With so many nonrunning professional obligations eating into my time beyond my training, I didn’t find the time to get up to Leadville enough. I decided that as long as I was not thinking competitively about this race, it might be nice to see some things for the first time in the actual event—wishful thinking, maybe?

Another fall, pulling the plug

Ten days out, I really felt ready. I took a trip to Utah for the Outdoor Retailer show and also to run a little promotional 5K trail race. It was a short trip, and I