It ain't all sunshine and rainbows

With all the beautiful/happy pictures and good news (jobs, marriages, babies) inundating social media, many blame rising rates of depression on these unrealistic life snapshots. My blog, chronicling many years of triathlon success, is no exception. Breaking away from this mould, I wanted to share what I’ve been up to since Kona. Spoiler alert: It hasn’t been very much fun.

It’s no secret that part of being a successful endurance athlete is being friends with pain. Sure, the human body was made to move, but the first guy who ran the marathon dropped dead after finishing. The vast majority of our training-related aches and pains subside within 48 hours, only to be replaced by something new. From time to time, however, they linger on. Such has been the case with my hip.

On the bright side, at least I'm not Alex Smith.

One month before Kona (September 15^th, 2018), my good friend and super-fast triathlete, Jordan Bailey and I got together for a big (*excessive*) training weekend in Savannah. We started our Saturday morning with a 4k LCM swim that was closely followed by a 100 mile ride and an eight mile run. Besides some ridiculous crosswinds on the bike courtesy of hurricane Florence, I felt great and was able to descend the run finishing well below ironman goal pace. The next day however was a different story, and although we were able to achieve our 15 mile run goal it was not without ample bitching from yours truly. As may be anticipated after so much volume, towards the end of the run I started to feel what seemed to be some tightness in my left hip and immediately attributed it to a tight IT band.

PSA: when training with very fast athletes, its easy to overdo it.

By the end of the day I had almost completely forgotten about my hip and didn’t feel it the entire next week, even on what felt like a magical 20 mile long run. I can’t quite recall when my hip began to bother me again, but I can tell you that it was giving me some grief the week of Kona. With my anxiety at an all-time high (hard to fathom for those of you who know me) I kept telling myself it was just phantom taper pains and I wouldn’t feel it during the race. I was right until about four hours into the bike when out of nowhere I felt a searing pain in my left hip. I told myself I just needed to get off the bike and it would get better, and I was kind of right. I’m not sure whether I was just suffering too much on the run to notice it, or it actually didn’t hurt that bad, but I don’t remember being overly bothered by it.

Beer cures all woes.

Fast forward two weeks and after many nights spent slaying beers rather than miles the pain still lingered. That’s when I started to worry. One of my best friends and amazing professional runner, Jon Grey, tragically took his life in February after battling back from not one, not two, but three labral surgeries in less than five years. After some online research, WebMD (and slowtwitch) had me convinced, my labrum was destroyed. As I traded stories with other athletes who either currently have or have had labrum injuries (not disclosing their identities for the sake of their privacy, but I REALLY appreciate them speaking with me) the similarities caused my heart to sink.

Bout sums it up.

And so began my journey through the healthcare system. In all honesty, my health insurance is pretty good. Although by no means free, I am fortunate to be without a deductible. The catch of being part of a health maintenance organization (BCBS), however, is everything requires a referral. After a couple days of calling my assigned primary care provider (PCP), you can imagine my surprise when a google search returned his obituary, 3 YEARS AGO! After identifying a living PCP, I was livid when I received a call cancelling my Monday morning appointment at 4:55pm on Friday afternoon (October 27^th). When I finally did get in for my appointment the doctor wanted nothing to do with preventive care (PT or chiropractic) and instead referred me straight to an orthopedist, who I was told would call to schedule my appointment. After waiting about 10 days my patience had worn thin so I decided to give the orthopedist a call. Can you imagine that, they were “just getting around to giving me a call.” I still wonder when, if ever, I would have received that call (appointment scheduled for November 20^th). 

When I finally got into the orthopedist I was pretty disappointed to discover that I had been assigned to a physician’s assistant, who seemed to believe that the pain was coming from my back, rather than my hip. Fortunately the x-rays disproved her hypothesis and she resolved to refer me for a MRI. That’s when my obsessive research practices paid off; an arthrogram (imaging procedure following injection of contrast dye) is frequently necessary to diagnose a torn labrum. When I inquired about this procedure, I was told “we usually don’t recommend those,” which upon further inquiry I learned was to “save money.” Looking sheepish, the PA agreed to include the arthrogram injection (contrast) with the referral.

After one week of patiently waiting for my MRI to be scheduled, I can’t say I was surprised to learn that the PA/Orthopedic office had failed to relay the referral to the imaging center. I was told by the orthopedic office that “something had happened to the dictations” that day (appointment scheduled for December 8^th). Fortunately, although they were busy, my experience at the imaging center was long but smooth. Forty-five minutes in the MRI machine, followed by 20 minutes of awkwardly conversing with two nurses as I lay totally naked on the operating table (I’ll revisit this later), waiting for the doctor to stick a large needle in my hip and inject an absurd amount of dye. The second MRI was shorter, maybe 30 minutes, and on my way out the doctor told me that if I came back that evening I could pick-up the interpretation from the front desk.

My situation

As I drove back to the imaging center, I wasn’t really sure what to think. To be honest, by this point I had pretty much already accepted what I felt was the inevitable: “my labrum is torn and I won’t be racing triathlon in 2019”. The report confirmed my suspicion, but I was somewhat relieved to see it described as a “very small” tear, and nothing about the finality of my triathlon career. By this point it will probably come as no surprise that the orthopedist in Savannah was about as useless as a stick of gum “So, do you know what a labrum is?, Because I can’t fix them, I only do hip replacements and you don’t need one.”

I trust him.

After some calling around I scheduled an appointment with Jon Hyman, an orthopedic surgeon in Atlanta who performs hundreds of these surgeries a year. I drove to Atlanta to meet with Dr. Hyman this past week (Wednesday, January 2^nd) and for once I felt like I was finally getting somewhere. I explained how although far from perfect, my hip was certainly bothering me less than a couple months ago. He was very thorough and took the time going over my MRI with Bri and I. He explained to me that although the labrum had a minor tear, this is not an uncommon finding by any means. In fact, nearly ¾ of the population has a labral tear, the vast majority of which are asymptomatic. He also pointed out an extra wide area near the top of my femur, a condition known as a CAM defect (prevalent in about 37% of individuals) that might be causing my pain as is it rotates around my pelvis. He then presented me with 3 options:

1) Lifestyle change – he said almost jokingly

2) Surgery to repair labrum and reshape my femur - dislike.

3) Cortisone injection – a tactic that would not only serve diagnostic purposes, i.e., if pain goes away we can confirm the pain is coming from my hip, but an option that he felt might knock the pain out entirely.

CAM deformity, prevalent in over 1/3 of the population.

Two days ago I went back to the imaging clinic in Savannah for the cortisone injection. While getting a large needle stuck in your hip isn’t exactly a treat, at least this time I was given the dignity of some robes, allowing me to remain at least somewhat concealed as the nurses took x-rays of my pelvis. After one of them commented about remembering me from last time, it took about all my self-restraint to ask if that was because I was the guy laying stark naked and spread eagle on the operating table for 20 minutes.

Not really me, but I am quite pale from sitting inside writing grants.

Although I am still a tad sore from the injection, I very much enjoyed a pain-free, 50 degree, 15 minute jog around Daffin Park this morning. Undoubtedly, the past few months have been some of the most frustrating I’ve experienced. For the past 15 years, training has often been the best part of my day…its what makes me, me. With that gone, I’ve had to focus my energy elsewhere and I’ve had a lot of time for self-reflection. Thank god I have a fulfilling job, loving wife/family, and fantastic friends. While I’m not sure what my endurance escapades have in store for my future, I am choosing to approach the situation as optimistically as possible, something I NEVER would have been able to do until just a little over a week ago. I believe that in conjunction with a smart and conservative return to training, I will be able to get back to full health. I believe that I will run a faster Boston marathon this year than last. I believe that I will have a successful 2019 triathlon season. I believe that the perspective and knowledge gained from this experience will make me a better athlete and coach, both now, and in the future.

Non-triathlon related activities.

Thanks for reading.

That was humbling...Kona 2018

Fourteen months ago, Every Man Jack teammate and one of my good friends, Corey Robinson, planted the Ironman seed in my head. Shortly thereafter, I was able to convince Briana to let me play along.  Oh, how fortunate of a first Ironman experience it was. It truly wasn’t until a couple of months later that I was really able to digest what I had accomplished….and realize that it meant I would soon be doing it again, this time surrounded by the best in the world.

So happy to share this day with James.

The summer of 2018 was chaotic to say the least, and living in Boston for the first couple of months meant it really didn’t even begin until the middle of June. After successful races at Quassy and Patriot it wasn’t long before our relocation to Savannah. Bri and I have enjoyed going to the beach and going out to eat without spending $50 a plate, and after a year of being trapped in an apartment Ellie refuses to come inside….even if its 95 degrees outside.

Downtown Savannah

I’d be lying if I said I went into Muncie 70.3 wanting anything less than a victory. You can probably imagine the flame that was ignited after receiving a 5 minute “drafting” penalty and falling 4 minutes short of the overall win. This fresh taste of defeat left me ravenous to begin my Kona training. Unfortunately, two weeks later my training plans were put on the back burner when my father, Gary J Grosicki, finally succumbed to stage four cancer, after fighting for ten years. As much as I wanted nothing more than to destroy myself in training sessions, blackout the pain, for the next few weeks I had difficulty finding any sort of rhythm. As I reflected back on some of the last days with my dad, I’ll never forget how even in the worst of times he would pull himself from his armchair to walk laps around the house. After all he told me, “I read in your dissertation that Exercise is Medicine and I really do believe it.” Sure enough, it wasn’t long after he lost the ability to walk those laps that he left this world for a better place.

This ones for you man.

Of the many positive characteristics of Gary Grosicki, he was, if nothing else, extremely pragmatic. On the drive back to Savannah it became abundantly clear that although it was OK to be sad, this was no time to stop following my dreams. The next week, August 20^th, I began my first real training block for Kona, accumulating ~16h of training for five consecutive weeks. Although truncated, I felt my fitness building with this accumulated volume and was delighted to share quality training weekends with Richard Fineman and Jordan Bailey, both of whom were similarly targeting late-season IM’s. Keeping in mind lessons learned from Louisville, I supplemented long rides with longer brick sessions (2.5-3h rides with 10-16 miles off the bike) that I had largely ignored previously.

Blowing out the candles with Richard before blowing out our legs the next day.

With a desire to be fresh and a season’s worth of training on the legs I started my Kona taper 3 weeks out. Gradually coming down from my 16h average, I put in a 13h week, followed by a 10h week, and a light race week (~4.5h Monday-Friday).  The legs seemed to be responding well and I noted an upward trend in my heart rate variability, defined as variance from one heart beat to the next, another indication that I was ready to race! After serious social media induced FOMO the weekend before the race, Bri and I arrived in Kona late Monday night. For what its worth, if I ever race Kona again I will make a concerted effort to either delete or not check my social media accounts AT ALL two weeks before the race. The Kona hype is bad enough without being constantly inundated with pictures of super-fit people training their asses off. Bri and I were extremely fortunate to secure a spot in the Every Man Jack house where I was able to mollify my angst by following the lead of my Kona veteran teammates.

Lionel makes me look fat

Making the most of our time on the island, Thursday afternoon Briana and I ventured to Captain Cook where we procured delicious Acia bowls (Taylor sent me no less than 5 pictures and they actually lived up to the hype), and paid a visit to the The Kona Coffee Living History Museum, where we discovered the laborious process used to prepare the magical beans we so regularly depend on. I was equally as thrilled to witness a real-life avocado tree as well as a pineapple plant #ShitYouDontSeeInSavannah. That evening we enjoyed a dinner with teammates followed by some guided mediation lead by James 3^rd grade daughter (Georiga). It was really quite impressive. Me- "So what do I think about when meditating?" Georgia- "Meditating...duh."

Never seen one of these before

Georgia and Mrs. Malone showing me how its done.

After a low-key Friday, Saturday (race morning) I woke up at 4am for breakfast: A bagel sandwich featuring 2 eggs, a banana, some coffee, and a bottle of EFS Pro Cucumber (~120 calories). Our early departure was rewarded with a remarkably smooth drive to transition where we were shepherded through body marking, weigh-in, and finally to our bikes. After a night of rain I was quite relieved to realize my bike was shifting properly, and even more thrilled to discover that teammate and Ironman heavyweight Clay Emge’s bike could barely shift at all. Confined to a single speed, his chances of beating me went from 99 to 50%. Unfortunately, my excitement was derailed when we were able to find a mechanic who was able to get Clay’s Felt bicycle shifting smoothly again.

Shortly after the Pro start teammates Rob Mohr, Steve Jackson, Matt Malone, Nick Noone, James Defilippi, Danny Royce and I made our way into Kailua Bay where we would tread water for the next 10 or 15 minutes. I had heard the swim described as “being in a washing machine” but hoped surrounding myself with teammates might be more like a low tumble. As soon as the cannon sounded I immediately realized this was not going to be the case. Arms and legs were flying everywhere. Starting in an up-right position it was nearly impossible to maneuver myself into a horizontal position, let alone do anything with my body that resembled swimming. Deciding to go for it I put my head down and took a few strokes. It wasn’t long before I received a nice hard kick to the side of the head that left my ear ringing for the next 10-15 minutes. While my hesitant start meant that I had failed to get in a fast group, I made the most of my situation slingshotting from person to person. As the swim went on my confidence grew and a time or two I even found myself appreciating the fish below. Coming into the race my goal for the swim was to stay smooth and relaxed and to break an hour. I did exactly that.

Swim: 59:57

Too cheap to buy mediocre finisher pic. But I probably looked something like this coming out of the water, except with a Roka swimskin on.

Running to my bike I was somewhat frustrated to see that Ryan Guiliano, a very strong athlete who regularly kicked my ass in the Midwest, had beaten me in the swim. Deciding to focus on my own race, I was quite pleased to nail my flying mount without perineal damage. The first 5 miles of the bike course proceeded in a crit like fashion, with racers everywhere and water bottles ejecting from competitor’s cages like grenades in WWII (FFS people, did you ever train with these cage set-ups?!?!).  Although the madness was lessened by the time we made our way onto the Queen K, the number of draft packs was absolutely sickening. I have truly never seen more overt cheating in my 8 years in triathlon. The first time I was caught by one I looked down to see that I was rolling along at 29 mph and 170 watts GOING UPHILL. After being tagged with a drafting penalty at Muncie there was no way I was going to let lightning strike twice, so I decided to sit up and hit the brakes. I took pleasure in listening to the foreigner’s curse at me as they sprinted around to rejoin the pack. By the climb to Hawi the race had thinned and I was energized by passing riders who had begun their day too hard. My plan for the day was to ride conservative and even, being sure to save energy for the usual headwind on the trip home. By mile 90 it became apparent there would be no such wind and that I was easily going to satisfy my pre-race goal of a sub-5 bike split.

Nutrition: 2 bottles EFS, 2 bottles Gatorade, 8 GU, 1 GU blocks, 4-5 bottles of H2O (~1850 calories; ~95g/h)

Bike: 4:42:37

Photo cred: Charde-asada

Running out of transition I was happy to be off the bike but could immediately feel the oppressive sun taking its toll. About a mile into the run I came across Bri and Richard and right up the road ran into EMJ teammates Ritch Viola and Todd Buckingham. Their cheering revitalized me although shortly thereafter I felt my energy crashing. For someone coming unwound I was able to hold my shit together pretty well for the first hour, but after the hill at Palani the next 18 miles became a trial of will. I did my best (which wasn’t very good) to focus on running (not walking) from one aid station to the next, where I would reward myself with some combination of Gatorade, Coke, or Redbull. This strategy worked pretty well for 5-6 miles, but by the Energy Lab my heart rate was through the roof, no doubt a product of copious amounts of caffeine. By the grace of god I somehow made it back onto the Queen K, where I promised myself the rest of the race was downhill. It was here I began the ironmath, although instead of my usual default “if I run 8 min/mile I’ll finish at X time” it was “if I walk ILL BE OUT HERE FOR THE NEXT 2.5 FUCK#NG HOURS”. One foot in front of the other, one mile at a time, I reflected back to following my dad as he walked laps around the kitchen with his walker and oxygen. When I made it to mile 24 I promised myself I would not walk again. About a mile from the finish I passed Ritch and Todd who told me Rob Mohr was 15” up the road. Opening my stride I ran the last half mile in pretty close to 6 min/mile pace. Im pretty confident I’ve never hurt worse, and Im entirely sure no experience can compare to crossing that finish line.

Nutrition: 6x GU, ½ pack of blocks, Gatorade/Coke/Redbull (~1175 calories; ~84 g/h)

Run: 3:34:07

Overall: 9:22:23

Forever watching over me.

Without a doubt, one of the most miserable yet epic experiences in my athletic career. While I am proud of my performance, I am somewhat baffled by my fade on the run. At Louisville I faded a bit, but salvaged a respectable 3:13 run split, largely thanks to some GU blocks. Attempting to learn from my mistakes I 1) Practiced my nutrition frequently in training sessions 2) Ate a few more calories on the bike (and included some blocks) and 3) Ate a bit more before the race. While Kona was no doubt a FAR more challenging run (3x the elevation gain and 45 degrees warmer) I possibly foolishly had hoped these changes would result in a similar marathon time. Clearly they didn’t and I have a few ideas as to why:

Note: I started to provide elaborate scientific explanations behind each of these, then realized no one wants to read that. Would love to discuss in greater detail via email or phone with anyone interested.

1) Overconsumption of calories: the gut can only absorb ~90g of carbohydrate per hour, maybe less when its hot.

2) Poor fat burning: having practiced my race-day nutrition in EVERY long training session, I may have shifted substrate oxidation to a greater reliance on carbohydrate, thus more rapidly depleting glycogen.

3) Training error: Never done this much volume, and its possible I overcooked it. On the other side of the coin, I asked my body to race for 9 hours and in the last 20 days my longest session was only 4 hours long. I think its well within reason that I might have tapered too early.

In between bites of chocolate ice cream I’m pretty sure I told John Kelly after the race that I would never be doing an ironman again. I lied. Until next time Kona.

-Greg