It's that time of year again! The time of year where I sit around a lot, take care of things I have neglected for the last several months, and I... write on my blog! Ok, so I haven't been doing that, but this is the goal: to establish a posting routine, so that come spring I'll be all set to maintain regular postings. Let's see if I can do it!
As I near the end of my fourth week of relative inactivity, I am beginning to itch for a routine. This is really why I like to take some serious time off: so that I'm more than ready to fall back into a more strict, planned-out schedule. My body definitely needed the break, but more than anything, I think the off-season resting program can benefit the mind. In general I take the entire month of November as a 'exercise if I feel like it' month. I'll try to be more consistent in December, and come January 1st, I start back up.
I've really been enjoying the past couple weeks, an in particular the last ten days. Amanda and I have been spending a lot of time together, and with the dogs. We really have enjoyed sleeping in (til 10:00am some days!), and staying up late (I've seen midnight!!). It's been very relaxing, and the recharge should go a long way toward the preparation for another fun year of racing.
Last night we saw the movie Borat: very interesting. It certainly made us laugh, but the question "what the heck is wrong with these people" came up numerous times! Very funny. After that we spent an hour or so perusing the book store. We bought a couple books, and who knows, maybe we'll review them as a pastime.
Stay tuned, as I plan to update on all the fun happenings of a Lovato November Day.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
For those of you who are checking in for the Hawaii Ironman report, scroll down a bit further, and you'll find it. I just wanted to send out a big, fat THANK YOU to all of you who sent me good luck notes, and well-wishing before the race. I've been away from the computer a bit more than usual the past two weeks, so I've not had a ton of time to reply to emails. Rest assured, I'll get back with you all very soon. I appreciate everyone's support and interest. Keep checking back in, as it's now off-season, and lack of time can no longer be my tardy-blog excuse!
I'm finally back home in Boulder, and I've finally found my way to the computer, so I thought I'd send out the initial race report... who am I kidding? As long as I'm reporting, I might as well give the blow-by-blow version. Sit back and grab some popcorn, 'cause here I go:
They said the swim was rough; they said it was slow. I can look at the times and realize that the fastest folks were about four minutes off what they normally swim. I can look at my deficit to those top swimmers and say that this was my best ever Hawaii swim. With the goal of coming out with the main group, I positioned myself right behind Cam Brown, a guy I have swum with in the past, but never in Hawaii. He is always in a desirable spot, so I joined him. Well, for a little while anyway. I got edged off his feet as we were joined by a larger group of little fishies. I settled for another set (and ultimately another couple sets) of feet, and rode the wave to the turnaround. I am pretty sure that those up front faced a pretty mean current coming home, so this would explain why, on the hardest swim day in recent years, I felt very relaxed.
I zipped through T1, intent to catch or maintain contact with whomever had beaten me out. I did a good job, as I ended up passing some pretty fast swimmers very early on the bike. Things were looking good, and my legs were feeling great.
I made my way to the front of the chasing group, by the time we left town and hit the Queen K. By the airport, my charge found my at the very front, as I anticipated reacahing the leaders. Early on two things became evident: there was no wind to slow us down, and I was not catching any leaders!
As I made my way out, under an uncharacteristically overcast sky, I began to wonder if I had gone out too hard. My plan was to ride pretty darn fast for the first ten to fifteen miles, but then to settle into a steady pace, perhaps with a group. What I had not anticipated was how angry and agitated I would become with other riders packed so closely around me. I made several attempts to bridge up to the lead group, while dropping those around me. Each time I would find myself alone for several minutes, but ultimately being caught back up by the groups behind me.
After fifty miles of this cat-and-mouse (cat-and-mice) riding, I began to feel the effects of my surges: my quads were really starting to ache. I made my way up the rollers toward Hawi, at which point I was swallowed up by the front end of a very, very large group: probably 30+ guys. I patiently waited for the final uphill push toward Hawi: seven miles into a typically stiff headwind. On the day there was no headwind, but I still managed to break away one final time. I charged ahead, with only one other rider in tow. Entering Hawi and approaching the turn, I was confident that I could finally make the break stick.
On the return trip back down to Kawaihae, I really hit a solid brick wall. I felt nowhere near as good as I had anticipated feeling, and was forced to let a small group of six ride away from me. I figured that with a slight break, I could catch them back up with a strong push over the final thirty miles. However, the quads were very achey, and they never seemed to come around, as they tend to do around mile 80. I was in for it!
For the next thirty minutes or so, I continued to question myself: why did I let other athletes and what they were doing draw me out of my race plan; why did I get so angry at their riding tactics and strategies; why did I not stay within and race my race; why did I not just sit in, as the other athletes had no problem doing? These questions kept plaguing me; in fact, the fact that I was dwelling on these questions was plaguing me. For the first time in recent memory, my mental strength of staying within the moment, and racing positively in my own race had let me down.
With about fifteen miles to go, I found a second wind (or should I say my quads found a second wind), and I finished well: I even picked up a few folks who had blown as well.
Starting the run, I was a few spaces out of the top twenty: a place I had begun the marathon before. I was confident that I could overturn my mental and physical let-down from the bike, and run my way into the top ten: a revised goal for me.
Knowing very well that many folks never make it out of the Alii Drive out-and-back, I bided my time for the first ten miles. I found a groove, and held several comfortable 6:20's, waiting until the Queen K to increase the pressure. I knew, just knew, that once the sun came out, I would be right there to pick up the pieces of those before me who had gone out hard.
I waited for the sun to come out. I waited for that perfect moment to begin my push. I waited for the carnage that typifies the Kona Coast marathon. I waited and waited. I needed that brutal heat.
I have to say that I am still a bit shocked that the suffering never happened: the heat never hit us, and the flies never dropped. The top fifteen to twenty guys seemed to hold steady, in the same order throughout. I did move up a handful of spots, and lost one spot along the way; however, the normal attrition rate on the Queen K was strangely absent. Just as the bike ride was strangely windless, the marathon gave us little to no sunshine, and very mild conditions.
To top things off, the damage I had done myself on the bike was preventing me from running fast. I pushed and pushed; built and built, but I gained very little ground, as I anticipated doing. I was stuck in a no-man's land. I had ridden myself out of contention.
In 2005 I truly learned what it was like to have a bad race. Being forced to a walk, and finishing 395th was a humbling experience. And now to finish back in the top twenty, and to do so with my second-fastest time on the course, I can only be pleased with the result. Even still, I must say that I am a bit disappointed to fall so far short of my goals; however, the race taught me a very valuable lesson, one that will surely aid me in next year's quest for a top finish.
After two years with mild conditions out on the Big Island, I can only assume that next year will be a brutal one. In a strange way, I look forward to this, as I have no doubt that with the normal wind and heat, this year's outcome would have been very different for a lot of people.
They said the swim was rough; they said it was slow. I can look at the times and realize that the fastest folks were about four minutes off what they normally swim. I can look at my deficit to those top swimmers and say that this was my best ever Hawaii swim. With the goal of coming out with the main group, I positioned myself right behind Cam Brown, a guy I have swum with in the past, but never in Hawaii. He is always in a desirable spot, so I joined him. Well, for a little while anyway. I got edged off his feet as we were joined by a larger group of little fishies. I settled for another set (and ultimately another couple sets) of feet, and rode the wave to the turnaround. I am pretty sure that those up front faced a pretty mean current coming home, so this would explain why, on the hardest swim day in recent years, I felt very relaxed.
I zipped through T1, intent to catch or maintain contact with whomever had beaten me out. I did a good job, as I ended up passing some pretty fast swimmers very early on the bike. Things were looking good, and my legs were feeling great.
I made my way to the front of the chasing group, by the time we left town and hit the Queen K. By the airport, my charge found my at the very front, as I anticipated reacahing the leaders. Early on two things became evident: there was no wind to slow us down, and I was not catching any leaders!
As I made my way out, under an uncharacteristically overcast sky, I began to wonder if I had gone out too hard. My plan was to ride pretty darn fast for the first ten to fifteen miles, but then to settle into a steady pace, perhaps with a group. What I had not anticipated was how angry and agitated I would become with other riders packed so closely around me. I made several attempts to bridge up to the lead group, while dropping those around me. Each time I would find myself alone for several minutes, but ultimately being caught back up by the groups behind me.
After fifty miles of this cat-and-mouse (cat-and-mice) riding, I began to feel the effects of my surges: my quads were really starting to ache. I made my way up the rollers toward Hawi, at which point I was swallowed up by the front end of a very, very large group: probably 30+ guys. I patiently waited for the final uphill push toward Hawi: seven miles into a typically stiff headwind. On the day there was no headwind, but I still managed to break away one final time. I charged ahead, with only one other rider in tow. Entering Hawi and approaching the turn, I was confident that I could finally make the break stick.
On the return trip back down to Kawaihae, I really hit a solid brick wall. I felt nowhere near as good as I had anticipated feeling, and was forced to let a small group of six ride away from me. I figured that with a slight break, I could catch them back up with a strong push over the final thirty miles. However, the quads were very achey, and they never seemed to come around, as they tend to do around mile 80. I was in for it!
For the next thirty minutes or so, I continued to question myself: why did I let other athletes and what they were doing draw me out of my race plan; why did I get so angry at their riding tactics and strategies; why did I not stay within and race my race; why did I not just sit in, as the other athletes had no problem doing? These questions kept plaguing me; in fact, the fact that I was dwelling on these questions was plaguing me. For the first time in recent memory, my mental strength of staying within the moment, and racing positively in my own race had let me down.
With about fifteen miles to go, I found a second wind (or should I say my quads found a second wind), and I finished well: I even picked up a few folks who had blown as well.
Starting the run, I was a few spaces out of the top twenty: a place I had begun the marathon before. I was confident that I could overturn my mental and physical let-down from the bike, and run my way into the top ten: a revised goal for me.
Knowing very well that many folks never make it out of the Alii Drive out-and-back, I bided my time for the first ten miles. I found a groove, and held several comfortable 6:20's, waiting until the Queen K to increase the pressure. I knew, just knew, that once the sun came out, I would be right there to pick up the pieces of those before me who had gone out hard.
I waited for the sun to come out. I waited for that perfect moment to begin my push. I waited for the carnage that typifies the Kona Coast marathon. I waited and waited. I needed that brutal heat.
I have to say that I am still a bit shocked that the suffering never happened: the heat never hit us, and the flies never dropped. The top fifteen to twenty guys seemed to hold steady, in the same order throughout. I did move up a handful of spots, and lost one spot along the way; however, the normal attrition rate on the Queen K was strangely absent. Just as the bike ride was strangely windless, the marathon gave us little to no sunshine, and very mild conditions.
To top things off, the damage I had done myself on the bike was preventing me from running fast. I pushed and pushed; built and built, but I gained very little ground, as I anticipated doing. I was stuck in a no-man's land. I had ridden myself out of contention.
In 2005 I truly learned what it was like to have a bad race. Being forced to a walk, and finishing 395th was a humbling experience. And now to finish back in the top twenty, and to do so with my second-fastest time on the course, I can only be pleased with the result. Even still, I must say that I am a bit disappointed to fall so far short of my goals; however, the race taught me a very valuable lesson, one that will surely aid me in next year's quest for a top finish.
After two years with mild conditions out on the Big Island, I can only assume that next year will be a brutal one. In a strange way, I look forward to this, as I have no doubt that with the normal wind and heat, this year's outcome would have been very different for a lot of people.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Earthquakes and dolphins are on my mind. I'm here in Kona, and have finally found my way to a wireless hotspot for an update. Thanks for being patient and for checking in again.
Yesterday's tremors work me up from a sound sleep. At first I thought it was a violent thunderstorm, as we've been having A LOT of rain this week. When I realized it was an earthquake, my instincts made me roll over and cover Amanda, in case the ceiling fan ripped out and crushed us. That would have been quite dramatic. That did not happen, but I felt quite heroic nonetheless. Fortunately for us, our condo is fairly new and well built, so Amanda and I did not have to evacuate, as some of our counterparts have reported doing. Aside from slowing down the start of our day, our plans were not disturbed too terribly much.
Last week Amanda and I went for a really nice swim. We set out to conquer the entire swim loop, but at an easy pace with plenty of stops to chat and see the sights. Turns out there were plenty of sights to see: about 12-15 dolphins! On the return trip, I popped up to wait for Amanda, and while floating in the pristine salt water, I spotted a handful of dorsal fins poking just above the surface of the water. After a slit-second of 'are these sharks?!' panic, I realized they were our friends: some playful dolphins.
We enjoyed watching them splish-splash about, jumping and flipping, gliding and flopping. It was amazing. We went on our way, and they on theirs, but moments later we caught up with them again, further down the way. This time they swam below us upside down, and seemed to head back out to sea. What a fun-loving animal! And what a great experience for us both!
Aside from those two noteworthy events, most of our week has been the Kona Norm. We've done some nice rides and runs; we took a great drive to Hawi for some exercise and delicious sushi; we've lounged about; and we had a great birthday dinner (mine was the 14th) with our friends Graham and Sue.
It's now Monday, and the official start of Race Week. It has begun to get a bit more crowded around town, and the reality of the pending competition is becoming more clear. I love it.
I have some a couple photos of myself and Amanda in our comfy Kona condo. I plan to use that surf board after the race, by the way!
More later, as the good stuff is only just beginning!
Aloha!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Ironman North America TV schedule:
>Ironman North America events to air on OLN/Versus
>Boulder, CO Ð Ironman North America will partner with the Versus network
>(formerly OLN) to air the five full Ironman events held in the continental
>United States. These national broadcasts on the Versus network (US) are
>scheduled for October and November at the times show on the schedule below
>(all time ET).
>October 8, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 9, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 10, 2006 1:00 am Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 11, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 15, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 15, 2006 6:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 16, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 17, 2006 12:30 am Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 18, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 22, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 23, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 24, 2006 1:30 am Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 25, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 29, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Wisconsin
>October 30, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Wisconsin
>November 5, 2006 3:00 pm Ironman 70.3 St. Croix
>November 6, 2006 4:00 pm Ironman 70.3 St. Croix
>November 26, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Florida
>November 27, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Florida
>Ironman North America events to air on OLN/Versus
>Boulder, CO Ð Ironman North America will partner with the Versus network
>(formerly OLN) to air the five full Ironman events held in the continental
>United States. These national broadcasts on the Versus network (US) are
>scheduled for October and November at the times show on the schedule below
>(all time ET).
>October 8, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 9, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 10, 2006 1:00 am Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 11, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman Arizona
>October 15, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 15, 2006 6:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 16, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 17, 2006 12:30 am Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 18, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman Coeur dÕAlene
>October 22, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 23, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 24, 2006 1:30 am Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 25, 2006 5:00 pm Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid
>October 29, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Wisconsin
>October 30, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Wisconsin
>November 5, 2006 3:00 pm Ironman 70.3 St. Croix
>November 6, 2006 4:00 pm Ironman 70.3 St. Croix
>November 26, 2006 3:00 pm Ford Ironman Florida
>November 27, 2006 4:00 pm Ford Ironman Florida
As long as I'm posting photos, I thought that I'd show you all a couple of fun pieces of equipment I'll be using in Hawaii. First, the kind folks at Saucony have created a custom pair of shoes for me. These are a standard pair of their triathlon-specific shoe, the Type A, but with a couple new grahpics. Thanks to Saucony for making me feel very special out there... it's gotta be the shoes!
And next up is my Rudy Project aero helmet. It's a standard Syton Open helmet, but jazzed up a bit courtesy of Fitz Graphix, a local auto body detail shop. It's scary, so beware!
That's it for now. I've got to get to sleep, as tomorrow is the final short brick workout here in Boulder before we head off to the Big Island.
Thanks for checking in on me.
Oh, and for those who are interested in seeing a bit of triathlon on TV, I'm attaching the OLN schedule for Ironman North America events. Tomorrow just happen to be IM Arizona, so I definitely recommend tuning in!
The past several days have been fun for me. As the taper progresses, I have found myself entering the phase where I am really enjoying a boost in energy. And with a boost in energy comes a boost in blog posts!
First off, I wanted to post a picture I took today while riding with my friend John Alvarez. John is here visiting from Hilton Head Island, and he's going to be taking care of our house, our dogs, and our cat while Amanda and I are in Hawaii. We headed out for an easy spin this afternoon, and this photo proves that. It also proves that I occasionally live dangerously, not unlike Austin Powers, as I snapped this one at about 20mph. I slowed a bit so things wouldn't be too blurry.
Monday, October 02, 2006
For those of you who don't believe that I'm really back, I'm here now to prove you wrong... or to prove myself right. I keep telling myself that I'm back, so that I'll really be back.
The past few days have been really nice. Saturday and Sunday both gave us a rare Septempber venture into the eighties! On both days I rode my bike up South St Vrain canyon: once on Saturday with Amanda, and once on Sunday alone. The most beautiful thing about the ride was the abundance of aspen trees with gorgeous yellow leaves. I would, in fact, be posting a picture of the stunning town of Raymond for all to see... had I only remembered my camera on these rides. Unfortunately, the camera was still sitting on the table by the door, when I reached into my jersey pocket to grab it. Bummer.
Thanks for checking in, and yes, I really am back. More later.
The past few days have been really nice. Saturday and Sunday both gave us a rare Septempber venture into the eighties! On both days I rode my bike up South St Vrain canyon: once on Saturday with Amanda, and once on Sunday alone. The most beautiful thing about the ride was the abundance of aspen trees with gorgeous yellow leaves. I would, in fact, be posting a picture of the stunning town of Raymond for all to see... had I only remembered my camera on these rides. Unfortunately, the camera was still sitting on the table by the door, when I reached into my jersey pocket to grab it. Bummer.
Thanks for checking in, and yes, I really am back. More later.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Watch out: I'm on a roll! I just wanted to add a few more thoughts, to prove that I'm really back.
First off, I wanted to post a couple pictures from a fun weekend of training I had with my good friend, and Jack and Adam's teammate, Todd Gerlach. He made his way up to the soft mountain air, in order to have some fun, and to escape the relentless heat of a September in Austin, Texas.
While he was here, I was finishing up week three of my big build. I took him to all my regular stomping grounds, including Switerland Trail (a gorgeous trail at 8500ft, in the mountains above Boulder), a trip up Left Hand Canyon (LHC for short), and a couple trips to FAC, our local club (pool and gym, not hip-hop/ party).
Along the way I only managed to pull my camera out twice. Bummer, but at least I got two shots. First, Todd and I were racing some incoming weather, as we shot up to mile 12 of LHC. We were hoping to hit Ward at mile 17, but the report of snow turned us around early. In photo number two, note the ominous black clouds behind Todd: this was actually down the mountain from us, and was therefore BETTER weather than what awaited us up top.
What awaited us down in the flatlands was a lot of wind. And I mean A LOT. I don't think you can grasp this unless you live, or have visited, the front range of CO. The wind was a STEADY 35mph, with gust from 50-80 mph. Please note that 80 mph classifies a low-grade hurricane (when sustained at that speed, of course). Nonetheless, Todd and I "practiced" for Hawaii for the rest of the ride.
Picture number one is in honor of Todd sprinting past the city limits sign (evidently something they "do" in Austin now) in front of me. Now, granted, I was on the side of the road waiting for him when he sprinted by... small victories.
I'm back! I realize it's been three months since the last update, and most of you have likely stopped checking in on my blog, but hey, I'm back. I went through a slump... for writing, that is. I'm back now.
My first update is right smack in the middle of my Hawaii prep! I meant to log on once or twice per week (yeah right!) during my big five weeks of training to show you some of the scenery while I was out there. Now I've only got three+ weeks 'til the race, and I'll do what I can to bring everyone up to speed.
July 30: Vineman. I had a great time in Sonoma; I had a great homestay (Iron Mady!!); I wasn't too fast on a day where four guys broke four hours!; and I really enjoyed the area, the race, and the trip!
August 20 was Timberman. I love this race. For those of you who have not made it up to beautiful NH, get there soon! It's an awesome venue, an awesome race director, great party, and one heck of a pretty place. I finished the race in second, behind a blazing fast Bjorn Andersson.
August 27 was Ironman Canada. Let me just say that the trip to the Great White North was well worth the hassle (forgot my passport getting there!). Amanda had a decent race (albeit with another botched nutrition on race day); we loved visiting our good friends S and K Wood; we spent some fun time with GF, Paula Newby and Roch the week of the race; and we truly loved the whole experience. If you've not been to Penticton for the race: GO!
August 28th was day one of my 8-week Kona Build. I planned to train hard for four to five weeks, with a three to four week taper. I'm now at the end of that fifth week, and let me tell you: I've had some great training, and I'm really looking forward to the race next month!
This time I mean it: tune in SOON for more updates. (I'm publishing this now, before I slack off again...)
My first update is right smack in the middle of my Hawaii prep! I meant to log on once or twice per week (yeah right!) during my big five weeks of training to show you some of the scenery while I was out there. Now I've only got three+ weeks 'til the race, and I'll do what I can to bring everyone up to speed.
July 30: Vineman. I had a great time in Sonoma; I had a great homestay (Iron Mady!!); I wasn't too fast on a day where four guys broke four hours!; and I really enjoyed the area, the race, and the trip!
August 20 was Timberman. I love this race. For those of you who have not made it up to beautiful NH, get there soon! It's an awesome venue, an awesome race director, great party, and one heck of a pretty place. I finished the race in second, behind a blazing fast Bjorn Andersson.
August 27 was Ironman Canada. Let me just say that the trip to the Great White North was well worth the hassle (forgot my passport getting there!). Amanda had a decent race (albeit with another botched nutrition on race day); we loved visiting our good friends S and K Wood; we spent some fun time with GF, Paula Newby and Roch the week of the race; and we truly loved the whole experience. If you've not been to Penticton for the race: GO!
August 28th was day one of my 8-week Kona Build. I planned to train hard for four to five weeks, with a three to four week taper. I'm now at the end of that fifth week, and let me tell you: I've had some great training, and I'm really looking forward to the race next month!
This time I mean it: tune in SOON for more updates. (I'm publishing this now, before I slack off again...)
Monday, July 24, 2006
BOULDER PEAK TRIATHLON!
The "to race, or not to race" question was answered on Friday morning, when I finally realized I should get off the fence, and race the local event. I had been deliberating for a while, as I wasn't sure I'd be rested enough to race, or if I'd be smart racing back-to-back weekends (with Vineman coming up).
In the end, I figured it'd be a great way to have a hard workout, to have some fun, and hopefully to make a bit of cash.
Boulder Peak always draws a tough field, mostly because half of triathlon's worldwide elite lives here or in Colorado Springs. It's a tough race, with tough competition: lots of fun! Plus, it's really the only short race I do these days, so it's hard to miss.
After truly enjoying the opportunity to sleep in our own bed the night before a race, Amanda and I rode over to the reservoir early Sunday morning; we were caffeinated and ready to roll. We got there with plenty of time to set up, and still get a nice warm up.
It's funny to note that as early as we arrived, nearly the entire women's bike rack section was full. These women were prompt! On the other hand, the men's side was very empty! Why were the men the procrastinators? And how did I end up on the early side of the equation that morning? Oh yeah, Amanda was with me!
After a nice bike ride, a short run, and a good long swim, I truly felt as ready as I was going to be. I watched the women start (they had a 14:45 head start on us), and I got myself ready to really pound out a great swim. I was practicing the old school tactic of tucking my singlet into my shorts, so I could pull it on post-swim, and avoid wearing the unitard/ one-piece/ speedsuit thingy. Everyone else seemed to have one of those on; perhaps I had misjudged. Oh well, my bare chest felt good in the slightly warm reservoir waters.
At the gun I was in position. 2.3 seconds after the gun I was still in position. 2.4 seconds after the gun, I was in dead last. Ok that's an exaggeration, but I was not in the front. It was strange how quickly I was gapped. Normally my problem with the swim is NOT the first few hundred meters. Normally, I excel at that part. This time, however, I was getting dropped. I fell in line with someone, and hoped to hold onto his feet. Sure enough I held his feet; however, what I had not counted on was that he lost the feet in front of him. We were dropped for real.
I exited the water unsure of my deficit. The encouraging words sure did encourage me: I thought I really was "just a bit behind". People sure are optimistic, and I love that about them. Turns out I was 60-90 seconds behind all the contenders. Not good. Not good for a two-hour race anyway. Ah well, the dismal swim was behind me!
Onto the bike I began my assault. My primary performance goal was to break an hour on the tough 26-mile bike course. I felt like I could do it, and I set out to prove myself right.
About two-thirds of the way up Old Stage ( 14% grade hill of about a mile), I realized I would not be able to sustain the torrid attack I was dishing out. I had passed two or three guys on the first bit of the climb, but the strength it took to push the massive 42-tooth chain ring up that incline was too great for my muscles to sustain. I needed to sit down and rest a bit. I sat and rested a bit.
I regained the momentum near the top, and set myself back to the task of crushing the bike course. Could I still break the hour with this short break? If my equally massive 55-tooth chain ring had anything to do with it, yes. I pushed and pushed and passed and passed. Before I knew it, I was gaining on the front group.
After jumping off the bike, I headed out on the run with last year's 3rd place finisher (so the race announcer informed me). I was feeling great, and surprisingly was not feeling the effects of the hard bike ride. It goes to show that all this IM training does wonders for the strength!
Within about a mile, I moved into fifth place. I was running well, and I thought I'd be able to perhaps close on fourth. I rounded the first of five turns (triple out-and-back run course), and made it most of the way back before "running well" turned into "running? well, barely". Ok not barely running, but it felt bad. I realized that I was in serious oxygen debt. It sure felt like asthma, but I think it was just me suffering. I eased up, and let the breathing return to normal. After an easier mile, I tried to build back to my fast pace for the next three or four. This time the breathing problem converted itself into some sort of diabolical side stitch. It had been a while since I had one of those (at the last Boulder Peak I raced), and I forgot how to handle them. OUCH. I realized there would be no catching of fourth, and it didn't look like there'd be any catching from behind, so I dealt with the last few miles, and the cramp.
I crossed the line in fifth, one spot better than I had ever finished at Boulder Peak. I was pleased with my effort; happy that I got some speed work in, in prep for my upcoming half; and glad to have participated in such a great local race. The run course was lined with tons of my friends, all screaming and yelling for us. I loved that part, and I look forward to doing another hometown event!
As for the bike time, well, I almost did it: 1:00.23. Next year I won't take that break part way up the climb!
The "to race, or not to race" question was answered on Friday morning, when I finally realized I should get off the fence, and race the local event. I had been deliberating for a while, as I wasn't sure I'd be rested enough to race, or if I'd be smart racing back-to-back weekends (with Vineman coming up).
In the end, I figured it'd be a great way to have a hard workout, to have some fun, and hopefully to make a bit of cash.
Boulder Peak always draws a tough field, mostly because half of triathlon's worldwide elite lives here or in Colorado Springs. It's a tough race, with tough competition: lots of fun! Plus, it's really the only short race I do these days, so it's hard to miss.
After truly enjoying the opportunity to sleep in our own bed the night before a race, Amanda and I rode over to the reservoir early Sunday morning; we were caffeinated and ready to roll. We got there with plenty of time to set up, and still get a nice warm up.
It's funny to note that as early as we arrived, nearly the entire women's bike rack section was full. These women were prompt! On the other hand, the men's side was very empty! Why were the men the procrastinators? And how did I end up on the early side of the equation that morning? Oh yeah, Amanda was with me!
After a nice bike ride, a short run, and a good long swim, I truly felt as ready as I was going to be. I watched the women start (they had a 14:45 head start on us), and I got myself ready to really pound out a great swim. I was practicing the old school tactic of tucking my singlet into my shorts, so I could pull it on post-swim, and avoid wearing the unitard/ one-piece/ speedsuit thingy. Everyone else seemed to have one of those on; perhaps I had misjudged. Oh well, my bare chest felt good in the slightly warm reservoir waters.
At the gun I was in position. 2.3 seconds after the gun I was still in position. 2.4 seconds after the gun, I was in dead last. Ok that's an exaggeration, but I was not in the front. It was strange how quickly I was gapped. Normally my problem with the swim is NOT the first few hundred meters. Normally, I excel at that part. This time, however, I was getting dropped. I fell in line with someone, and hoped to hold onto his feet. Sure enough I held his feet; however, what I had not counted on was that he lost the feet in front of him. We were dropped for real.
I exited the water unsure of my deficit. The encouraging words sure did encourage me: I thought I really was "just a bit behind". People sure are optimistic, and I love that about them. Turns out I was 60-90 seconds behind all the contenders. Not good. Not good for a two-hour race anyway. Ah well, the dismal swim was behind me!
Onto the bike I began my assault. My primary performance goal was to break an hour on the tough 26-mile bike course. I felt like I could do it, and I set out to prove myself right.
About two-thirds of the way up Old Stage ( 14% grade hill of about a mile), I realized I would not be able to sustain the torrid attack I was dishing out. I had passed two or three guys on the first bit of the climb, but the strength it took to push the massive 42-tooth chain ring up that incline was too great for my muscles to sustain. I needed to sit down and rest a bit. I sat and rested a bit.
I regained the momentum near the top, and set myself back to the task of crushing the bike course. Could I still break the hour with this short break? If my equally massive 55-tooth chain ring had anything to do with it, yes. I pushed and pushed and passed and passed. Before I knew it, I was gaining on the front group.
After jumping off the bike, I headed out on the run with last year's 3rd place finisher (so the race announcer informed me). I was feeling great, and surprisingly was not feeling the effects of the hard bike ride. It goes to show that all this IM training does wonders for the strength!
Within about a mile, I moved into fifth place. I was running well, and I thought I'd be able to perhaps close on fourth. I rounded the first of five turns (triple out-and-back run course), and made it most of the way back before "running well" turned into "running? well, barely". Ok not barely running, but it felt bad. I realized that I was in serious oxygen debt. It sure felt like asthma, but I think it was just me suffering. I eased up, and let the breathing return to normal. After an easier mile, I tried to build back to my fast pace for the next three or four. This time the breathing problem converted itself into some sort of diabolical side stitch. It had been a while since I had one of those (at the last Boulder Peak I raced), and I forgot how to handle them. OUCH. I realized there would be no catching of fourth, and it didn't look like there'd be any catching from behind, so I dealt with the last few miles, and the cramp.
I crossed the line in fifth, one spot better than I had ever finished at Boulder Peak. I was pleased with my effort; happy that I got some speed work in, in prep for my upcoming half; and glad to have participated in such a great local race. The run course was lined with tons of my friends, all screaming and yelling for us. I loved that part, and I look forward to doing another hometown event!
As for the bike time, well, I almost did it: 1:00.23. Next year I won't take that break part way up the climb!
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Bob Roll is talking about the Pain Bank Account. The Tour de France is on, and today's stage is one of the most famous: Alpe d'Huez. Bob Roll is a funny man with a funny vocabulary; a funny way of expressing himself. And right now he's talking about the Pain Bank Account. It started me thinking: is there such a thing?
He reasoned that the cyclists who are truly competitive in the Tour have several years' training, racing, and 'pain-building' in them; therefore, they are able to make withdrawals from their accounts when the going gets tough. They can only make those withdrawals when the account is full; after years of suffering. The younger amateur racers are not able to tap into the account, because it's not been topped off. In essence, they have not put in the work; not paid their dues. Is this why Lance has been so successful with the sport? His Pain Bank Account has had many deposits, from years of racing to battling cancer. Perhaps Bob is onto something.
It starts me thinking of my own Pain Bank Account. It starts me wondering how much of an impact my prior Ironman races have had on my success at my most recent race. Did the suffering and pain I endured in Lake Placid in 2000 help me hold on for the win in Tempe? And by that logic, did the pain I handled in Arizona serve as a hefty deposit to my Account; one that will be there for future races over the Ironman distance?
Only time will tell if my ability to endure the hardships; to accept the pain; to manage the discomfort will have reached a new level. From my current experience in training and training races, I feel I have already managed to up the ante with my personal pain tolerance. I feel that the effort I extended in April at Tempe Town Lake has enabled me to grow my net worth, in a Pain Bank Account sort of way.
Come October I'll be interested to see what's there when I begin to make some withdrawals. I look forward to seeing what is there when I go a-lookin'.
He reasoned that the cyclists who are truly competitive in the Tour have several years' training, racing, and 'pain-building' in them; therefore, they are able to make withdrawals from their accounts when the going gets tough. They can only make those withdrawals when the account is full; after years of suffering. The younger amateur racers are not able to tap into the account, because it's not been topped off. In essence, they have not put in the work; not paid their dues. Is this why Lance has been so successful with the sport? His Pain Bank Account has had many deposits, from years of racing to battling cancer. Perhaps Bob is onto something.
It starts me thinking of my own Pain Bank Account. It starts me wondering how much of an impact my prior Ironman races have had on my success at my most recent race. Did the suffering and pain I endured in Lake Placid in 2000 help me hold on for the win in Tempe? And by that logic, did the pain I handled in Arizona serve as a hefty deposit to my Account; one that will be there for future races over the Ironman distance?
Only time will tell if my ability to endure the hardships; to accept the pain; to manage the discomfort will have reached a new level. From my current experience in training and training races, I feel I have already managed to up the ante with my personal pain tolerance. I feel that the effort I extended in April at Tempe Town Lake has enabled me to grow my net worth, in a Pain Bank Account sort of way.
Come October I'll be interested to see what's there when I begin to make some withdrawals. I look forward to seeing what is there when I go a-lookin'.
Friday, July 07, 2006
As you can tell from the photo, the Beach Bum triathlon is a triathlon that takes place right there on the beach. And I don't mean that only the swim and run take place there; the whole darn thing, bike included, is right there on the beach. Fortunately for us, the beach sand is very hard packed, which makes for more pleasant riding conditions. Some folks even braved it on their road bikes!
The race went off with a 500-meter swim in the ocean. I love swimming in the ocean at Hilton Head Island. It's not the clearest water I've been in, but the temp is just right. Ten or twelve years ago, I worked on the beach with Shore Beach Service and every morning before putting on the lifeguard hat, I'd take a nice swim in that very sea.
Back to the race. I started out hard, but found myself in fourth place by the first turn buoy, fifty meters out. Rounding the turn, I managed to take a better line for buoy number two, and I took the lead. Just as I was noticing two competitors off to my right, and after realizing my feet were no longer being tapped, I found myself taking a bit of a beating from the left. Or was I doing the beating? Perhaps a bit of both.
I took a breath on that side to see who was my company. Turns out that Christie, a former HHI High School swimmer (and soon to be Western Kentucky swim stud) was matching me stroke for stroke. We rounded the final turn together, after my numerous attempts to pull ahead of her. I waited to see which of us would hit the better waves coming in, but we ended up right about together. I hit solid ground and stood up, only to see Christie (and Radek Parnica, the local tri stud) bolt out of the sea without me. I was proud of Christie for putting the whupping on me, and for keeping me honest in the swim. She's one to look out for in the swimming world.
Next up was a six-mile beach ride. I had borrowed a mountain bike for this leg of the race, so I made my way to transition to find my ride. Once there I carefully dripped bottled water on my feet before putting on my trusty Type A's (greatest shoes out there!). I didn't want to get any sand-induced blisters. I know, that was pretty weak...
The bike ride was tough! Actually, it was much harder than I anticipated. We did a mile and a half with the wind, three miles into the wind, and finished with a mile and a half with the wind. Six miles never seemed so tough! The mountain bike did me proud, and I managed to ride flat-out for most of the way, to be certain I'd have a lead starting the run.
Note: riding a mountain bike flat-out on the beach might leave the back a bit tight. Fortunately, this tightness doesn't last long, probably a result of the short duration of riding. I hobbled a few steps, then found my stride. About midway to the turnaround, I realized it was stinking humid out there. Wow, I forgot what it's like to run mid-morning, on the beach, in South Carolina, in July. Streaking down the beach, amongst the morning beachgoers, wearing my flashy Splish briefs and a number belt was a unique experience. Were it not for the number belt, I might have gotten a few (dozen) more strange looks.
I crossed the line in first, and eagerly awaited the stream of happy (and hot and sandy and dirty and sweaty) beach bums to follow. What a great event! Our reward (in addition to an abundance of sandwich creme cookies) for finishing the beach bum tri was awaiting us: top ten in the 40+ and 39 and under categories was a highly coveted coconut monkey. Mine, upon further examination, turned out to be a pirate (not a monkey dressed as a pirate, as initially thought).
I hope I get a chance to race with all the Hilton Head and Go Tri Sports crew again. I really enjoyed being out there with some class-act locals, such as Jack and Nick Felix, John John Alvarez, Papa Alvarez, Christie, and many more.
The race went off with a 500-meter swim in the ocean. I love swimming in the ocean at Hilton Head Island. It's not the clearest water I've been in, but the temp is just right. Ten or twelve years ago, I worked on the beach with Shore Beach Service and every morning before putting on the lifeguard hat, I'd take a nice swim in that very sea.
Back to the race. I started out hard, but found myself in fourth place by the first turn buoy, fifty meters out. Rounding the turn, I managed to take a better line for buoy number two, and I took the lead. Just as I was noticing two competitors off to my right, and after realizing my feet were no longer being tapped, I found myself taking a bit of a beating from the left. Or was I doing the beating? Perhaps a bit of both.
I took a breath on that side to see who was my company. Turns out that Christie, a former HHI High School swimmer (and soon to be Western Kentucky swim stud) was matching me stroke for stroke. We rounded the final turn together, after my numerous attempts to pull ahead of her. I waited to see which of us would hit the better waves coming in, but we ended up right about together. I hit solid ground and stood up, only to see Christie (and Radek Parnica, the local tri stud) bolt out of the sea without me. I was proud of Christie for putting the whupping on me, and for keeping me honest in the swim. She's one to look out for in the swimming world.
Next up was a six-mile beach ride. I had borrowed a mountain bike for this leg of the race, so I made my way to transition to find my ride. Once there I carefully dripped bottled water on my feet before putting on my trusty Type A's (greatest shoes out there!). I didn't want to get any sand-induced blisters. I know, that was pretty weak...
The bike ride was tough! Actually, it was much harder than I anticipated. We did a mile and a half with the wind, three miles into the wind, and finished with a mile and a half with the wind. Six miles never seemed so tough! The mountain bike did me proud, and I managed to ride flat-out for most of the way, to be certain I'd have a lead starting the run.
Note: riding a mountain bike flat-out on the beach might leave the back a bit tight. Fortunately, this tightness doesn't last long, probably a result of the short duration of riding. I hobbled a few steps, then found my stride. About midway to the turnaround, I realized it was stinking humid out there. Wow, I forgot what it's like to run mid-morning, on the beach, in South Carolina, in July. Streaking down the beach, amongst the morning beachgoers, wearing my flashy Splish briefs and a number belt was a unique experience. Were it not for the number belt, I might have gotten a few (dozen) more strange looks.
I crossed the line in first, and eagerly awaited the stream of happy (and hot and sandy and dirty and sweaty) beach bums to follow. What a great event! Our reward (in addition to an abundance of sandwich creme cookies) for finishing the beach bum tri was awaiting us: top ten in the 40+ and 39 and under categories was a highly coveted coconut monkey. Mine, upon further examination, turned out to be a pirate (not a monkey dressed as a pirate, as initially thought).
I hope I get a chance to race with all the Hilton Head and Go Tri Sports crew again. I really enjoyed being out there with some class-act locals, such as Jack and Nick Felix, John John Alvarez, Papa Alvarez, Christie, and many more.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Here is a photo from the Beach Bum Triathlon. This shot is post-race with a fellow named Jack Felix. He's only 12 now, but he's one heck of a triathlete. Be sure to remember his name, because you're sure to see him down the road, in whatever sport he chooses to pursue.
Thanks very much to Splish (www.splish.com) for setting me up with a the perfect swim suit for this event!
Sunday, July 02, 2006
I got the opportunity to come to Hilton Head Island, SC this weekend for a fun trip. The goal was to chat with the local triathletes, to do a fun race, and to visit with my sister, Steph, and her beau, Huggy Bear Hays. I had a lot of fun with the crew from Go Tri Sports, and I'll be writing all about it very soon. In the meantime, here is what the local reporter thought of my showing: http://www.islandpacket.com/sports/local/story/5899356p-5219940c.html
More on that later!
More on that later!
BSLT!
Those race initials always remind me of a sandwich. But what would the "S" be?
As promised, I'm getting to the Lubbock race report, and only a week late. Normally I'd be two weeks late, so this is progress. Depending on how long this takes, I might even offer up a second race report, which would be nearly same-day coverage!
As most of you know (probably from reading others' more timely race reports), race morning was strangely cool. The skies were overcast, and there seemed to be thunderstorms in and around Lubbock. Once again, those storms we had leaving Boulder were proving to be prophetic.
Amanda and I were very good about getting an early start this time. We had been so late for the rest of the week, that it came as quite a surprise that we arrived at the lake just a couple minutes past 5:00am. Not too shabby. After we put our bikes together, we headed down the steep hill to transition. It's always fun to be heading to race start in pitch black: feels more adventurous. Too bad we didn't think to bring a headlamp.
This was one of those mornings where set-up was pretty smooth and seamless. I had transition put together early enough to have a short warm-up jog and a brief chat with Stephanie and my mom. I didn't get to see Luna and Blue, who were hanging out with our friend Debbie, but it was probably for the best, as they'd have wanted to get in the lake with me.
I got in the lake with ten or fifteen minutes to spare, intent to have a long enough warm up. I always do a lot better with a long slow swim prior to the start. I got ten or twelve minutes in before it was time to go. I was very happy with the start of the swim, as I found a good snappy rhythm right away. Things got a bit rough, but I was able to find a couple of fast feet right from the outset. Those feet turned out to be Andrea's, which generally means I'm in a good spot. I looked the left, and saw Jamie's sleeveless suit, so I knew I was doing alright. After the first couple turns, I actually found myself pulling around Andrea to take the lead. It's not often that I feel strong enough to leave the draft of the fast swimmers, so I must have been feeling pretty good. The truth was that I felt pretty comfortable, and I wanted to be sure that we kept the pressure on, as I was doing battle for swim preme honors. (Todd Gerlach and I were racing double or nothing on our bet from Arizona, where he put my swim time to shame.) However, I only lasted about 400-500 meters at best. I was feeling good, but he efforts up front started to take their toll. I needed to get back in a draft, and conveniently, Jamie and Andrea were tired of following my crooked line around the buoys, so they regained control. The rest of the swim was smooth, and I very happily exited the mis-measured swim in just over 22 minutes: 22:09 to be precise.
For the inquiring minds, Todd's swim was 22:11, so I managed to win myself back to zero. We now have the face-off swim challenge championship on October 21st, out in Hawaii. Wish me luck: Macadamia Nut Pies are at stake here.
Out on the bike, I took the first four miles a bit conservatively. I had managed to jack my saddle up, by mis-landing a flying mount out of transition: too much pressure on the back end, and the nose was pointing right... up.... there...
After I figured out how to manage the off-kilter saddle, and after deciding not to stop to fix it, I made chase. I made the pass on Jamie and Viktor just before the ten mile marker. I knew that Jamie was familiar with the course (and normally quite strong on this type of bike course), so I put a nice hard surge to distance myself from them. I set my sights on James and Marcel, the next duo up the road.
I realized that I was not making any ground on these guys, unless I was on a flat section into the wind. For some reason, I wasn't riding the tailwind sections very well. Fortunately, there was a long, hard headwind section coming up, so I bided my time. Once we got there, I really put the pedal to the metal, and tried to reel them in. I managed to close about a 25-second gap within approximately two miles. I knew this was good, as it meant I should be able to pass them, and leave them behind.
Just as I caught them, we took a turn with the wind (and approached a down hill). I sat up to recover briefly from my effort, and to take some fuel, and I proceeded to watch James and Marcel drop me. My plan had not worked quite so well. Oops.
I am still not sure if I used too much gas in catching them, or if I was off in some other capacity, but the next fifteen miles were very challenging for me. I watched Marcel and James leave me behind. I saw Simon and Luke continue to increase their leads, and I watched my pursuers gain ground. I was particularly frustrated to ride very poorly on the two more challenging climbs. I was not strong, and I did not like it.
As we made the turn for home (and after I struggled up the final winding hill through the tree tunnel), I began to come around again. I managed to increase the effort, and the speed. Near the end of the ride, I finally caught back up to James, who was clearly not having his best BSLT bike ride!
As I passed him, he encouraged me to get under that 4-hour barrier, as we were just nearing the 2:40 mark. I encouraged him to come with me on the run, but noted that we should ease into the pace. Knowing that course as well as he and I do, I figured we'd have the advantage when all the "rookies" blew up out in the Texas Heat.
Well, turns out we were having some sort of West Texas Cold Front instead. While it was definitely warm, there were no egg-frying asphalt sections, like in years past. Too bad, as any chance I had of out-smarting and out-strengthing Luke and Simon went out the window. They were quite far down the road out-speeding me! Well done, fellas!
I ended up moving into third by the time we reached the Energy Lab II. I was intent to hold that spot, as a podium finish is always a nice way to wrap up a day of racing. However, and as usual, this is a big HOWEVER, I noticed my old buddy Viktor was stalking me quite closely.
I put the hammer down, and never looked back. I figured I could hold him off for a while, and if he caught me, I'd try to out-kick him to the finish. Well, this plan didn't exactly come to be realized, as Viktor made his way to my shoulder by mile seven. I led him down and up the hills at miles eight and nine, throwing surges at him left and right. When I realized I couldn't drop him on the down, I tried to drop him on the up. When I realized I could not drop him on the up, I tried to drop him on the flat. When I realized I could not drop him on the flat, I tried to drop him on the headwind section entering the park.
Viktor was smart and Viktor was strong, and in the end, Viktor was the victor: he finally came around me just before the dangerous mile-ten descent back down to the lake. He wisely let me do the work, sized me up, and responded to my every move. He barely came by me, and opened a small gap. It seemed that his plan was to throw down on that hill, hoping I'd not be able to match his down hill speed. He was right. He gapped me just enough, so that as we rounded the turn that begins the final 5k to home, I had cracked. I tried to up the ante, but my efforts to ditch him left me cooked.
In the back of my head, I hoped to stay strong enough to reel him back in, but up front I was hurting. At the run turnaround I had the chance to see that the others were far enough back that, barring a catastrophic meltdown, I would not get caught. This little bit of knowledge was all it took for me to justify a "cruise" back to the finish. After all, I fought my fight, and fourth place with a 4:02 was not going to be all that bad. In fact, it was my fastest time on the course, and a heck of a lot better than my 7:50 from 2002!
Thanks for reading... check in soon for news of the Beach Bum Triathlon on Hilton Head Island!
Those race initials always remind me of a sandwich. But what would the "S" be?
As promised, I'm getting to the Lubbock race report, and only a week late. Normally I'd be two weeks late, so this is progress. Depending on how long this takes, I might even offer up a second race report, which would be nearly same-day coverage!
As most of you know (probably from reading others' more timely race reports), race morning was strangely cool. The skies were overcast, and there seemed to be thunderstorms in and around Lubbock. Once again, those storms we had leaving Boulder were proving to be prophetic.
Amanda and I were very good about getting an early start this time. We had been so late for the rest of the week, that it came as quite a surprise that we arrived at the lake just a couple minutes past 5:00am. Not too shabby. After we put our bikes together, we headed down the steep hill to transition. It's always fun to be heading to race start in pitch black: feels more adventurous. Too bad we didn't think to bring a headlamp.
This was one of those mornings where set-up was pretty smooth and seamless. I had transition put together early enough to have a short warm-up jog and a brief chat with Stephanie and my mom. I didn't get to see Luna and Blue, who were hanging out with our friend Debbie, but it was probably for the best, as they'd have wanted to get in the lake with me.
I got in the lake with ten or fifteen minutes to spare, intent to have a long enough warm up. I always do a lot better with a long slow swim prior to the start. I got ten or twelve minutes in before it was time to go. I was very happy with the start of the swim, as I found a good snappy rhythm right away. Things got a bit rough, but I was able to find a couple of fast feet right from the outset. Those feet turned out to be Andrea's, which generally means I'm in a good spot. I looked the left, and saw Jamie's sleeveless suit, so I knew I was doing alright. After the first couple turns, I actually found myself pulling around Andrea to take the lead. It's not often that I feel strong enough to leave the draft of the fast swimmers, so I must have been feeling pretty good. The truth was that I felt pretty comfortable, and I wanted to be sure that we kept the pressure on, as I was doing battle for swim preme honors. (Todd Gerlach and I were racing double or nothing on our bet from Arizona, where he put my swim time to shame.) However, I only lasted about 400-500 meters at best. I was feeling good, but he efforts up front started to take their toll. I needed to get back in a draft, and conveniently, Jamie and Andrea were tired of following my crooked line around the buoys, so they regained control. The rest of the swim was smooth, and I very happily exited the mis-measured swim in just over 22 minutes: 22:09 to be precise.
For the inquiring minds, Todd's swim was 22:11, so I managed to win myself back to zero. We now have the face-off swim challenge championship on October 21st, out in Hawaii. Wish me luck: Macadamia Nut Pies are at stake here.
Out on the bike, I took the first four miles a bit conservatively. I had managed to jack my saddle up, by mis-landing a flying mount out of transition: too much pressure on the back end, and the nose was pointing right... up.... there...
After I figured out how to manage the off-kilter saddle, and after deciding not to stop to fix it, I made chase. I made the pass on Jamie and Viktor just before the ten mile marker. I knew that Jamie was familiar with the course (and normally quite strong on this type of bike course), so I put a nice hard surge to distance myself from them. I set my sights on James and Marcel, the next duo up the road.
I realized that I was not making any ground on these guys, unless I was on a flat section into the wind. For some reason, I wasn't riding the tailwind sections very well. Fortunately, there was a long, hard headwind section coming up, so I bided my time. Once we got there, I really put the pedal to the metal, and tried to reel them in. I managed to close about a 25-second gap within approximately two miles. I knew this was good, as it meant I should be able to pass them, and leave them behind.
Just as I caught them, we took a turn with the wind (and approached a down hill). I sat up to recover briefly from my effort, and to take some fuel, and I proceeded to watch James and Marcel drop me. My plan had not worked quite so well. Oops.
I am still not sure if I used too much gas in catching them, or if I was off in some other capacity, but the next fifteen miles were very challenging for me. I watched Marcel and James leave me behind. I saw Simon and Luke continue to increase their leads, and I watched my pursuers gain ground. I was particularly frustrated to ride very poorly on the two more challenging climbs. I was not strong, and I did not like it.
As we made the turn for home (and after I struggled up the final winding hill through the tree tunnel), I began to come around again. I managed to increase the effort, and the speed. Near the end of the ride, I finally caught back up to James, who was clearly not having his best BSLT bike ride!
As I passed him, he encouraged me to get under that 4-hour barrier, as we were just nearing the 2:40 mark. I encouraged him to come with me on the run, but noted that we should ease into the pace. Knowing that course as well as he and I do, I figured we'd have the advantage when all the "rookies" blew up out in the Texas Heat.
Well, turns out we were having some sort of West Texas Cold Front instead. While it was definitely warm, there were no egg-frying asphalt sections, like in years past. Too bad, as any chance I had of out-smarting and out-strengthing Luke and Simon went out the window. They were quite far down the road out-speeding me! Well done, fellas!
I ended up moving into third by the time we reached the Energy Lab II. I was intent to hold that spot, as a podium finish is always a nice way to wrap up a day of racing. However, and as usual, this is a big HOWEVER, I noticed my old buddy Viktor was stalking me quite closely.
I put the hammer down, and never looked back. I figured I could hold him off for a while, and if he caught me, I'd try to out-kick him to the finish. Well, this plan didn't exactly come to be realized, as Viktor made his way to my shoulder by mile seven. I led him down and up the hills at miles eight and nine, throwing surges at him left and right. When I realized I couldn't drop him on the down, I tried to drop him on the up. When I realized I could not drop him on the up, I tried to drop him on the flat. When I realized I could not drop him on the flat, I tried to drop him on the headwind section entering the park.
Viktor was smart and Viktor was strong, and in the end, Viktor was the victor: he finally came around me just before the dangerous mile-ten descent back down to the lake. He wisely let me do the work, sized me up, and responded to my every move. He barely came by me, and opened a small gap. It seemed that his plan was to throw down on that hill, hoping I'd not be able to match his down hill speed. He was right. He gapped me just enough, so that as we rounded the turn that begins the final 5k to home, I had cracked. I tried to up the ante, but my efforts to ditch him left me cooked.
In the back of my head, I hoped to stay strong enough to reel him back in, but up front I was hurting. At the run turnaround I had the chance to see that the others were far enough back that, barring a catastrophic meltdown, I would not get caught. This little bit of knowledge was all it took for me to justify a "cruise" back to the finish. After all, I fought my fight, and fourth place with a 4:02 was not going to be all that bad. In fact, it was my fastest time on the course, and a heck of a lot better than my 7:50 from 2002!
Thanks for reading... check in soon for news of the Beach Bum Triathlon on Hilton Head Island!
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Remember when you learned about foreshadowing in your English class way back when? Remember? It was that thing that happened early in the story; that thing that happened once, and you might not even have paid any attention to it. Remember? It was that thing that happened once, only to be relived again, in another way, shape or form. You do remember it, don't you? Well I remember it, too. And I remember what happened the night before Amanda and I left for Lubbock...
...The car was packed and we were only four hours behind schedule. This wasn't too bad; I've been much later with my departures. The car was packed, the bikes were on the roof, and we were about to head outside. Before we could even reach the door, a little summertime storm kicked up, and suddenly it was raining. Then suddenly it was hailing. (For the less-than-astute reader: this is the foreshadowing part.)
The bikes got pounded, the car got pounded, and I got hungry. I had gone several hours without eating, and it was finally catching up to me. I got the bonk real hard. I saw this hail storm as the final sign (combined with the numerous little things that aided in the delay) that we should not leave town. We did not leave town. Unfortunately, my mother's house was to be our first stop on the drive to Lubbock, so postponing the departure would mean skipping the visit with my mom: not good.
After the storm passed, we removed the wet Javelins from the roof, and set ourselves to the task of getting a good night's sleep. I could have posted on my blog, but instead I chose to rest up for the six-hundred-mile journey the following day. Yes, Amanda's blog was updated, thank you very much.
Day number two on the trip to Lubbock saw a much more positive beginning. We were up at 5:30, miraculously; and to further prove that miracles do happen (and sometimes twice in one Colorado summer morning), we left the house before 6:30am! In fact, we were at the coffee shop and bagel joint before 6:31. Wow. Did this wonderful start to our trip (attempt number two) bode well for a wonderful race?
Our drive to Lubbock was easier than we thought it would be. The dogs were along for the ride, and even they seemed to enjoy the journey. We stopped three or four times for various reasons, including any combination or variation of the following: I was hungry, Amanda needed to stretch, the dogs were hungry, the dogs needed to pee, I needed to pee, the dogs needed to stretch, Amanda needed to pee, I needed the dogs to pee, Amanda needed me to stretch, and so fourth.
With about an hour to go, some ominous black clouds appeared on the horizon. These ominous clouds were the type of tornado-wielding, lightning-having, thunder-throwing, rain-spitting ominous clouds that appear on humorous but serious natural disaster movies The roads are pretty straight down in West Texas, so when you see something in front of you, you can pretty well count on it being in your path. This storm was in our path.
I've driven to or through Lubbock, Texas about two dozen times over the past fifteen years, and I think it rained on me half of one of those times. It just doesn't rain that much in Lubbock, especially in the summer months. Well, it rained. I opened the sunroof cover to make sure that the semi-hurricane-force winds we were battling hadn't knocked the very wet Javelins off the roof. At this point, the bikes were on the roof because the dogs were in the car. This should show you how much I love my dogs, because I really love my bikes, yet I was willing to put them in harm's way... just for my dogs. Ah jeez.
Arriving at the hotel, I noticed that the dead bugs that had accumulated on the front facing surfaces of every part of our bikes had been super-duper pressure washed off by the driving rain. Not bad: one less thing to tomorrow!
Tomorrow turned out to be Friday, which also turned out to be the day before the day before the race. Funny. We spent the day checking out Buffalo Springs Lake, the run course, and the bike course. It all pretty much seemed the exact same as the last time we were there: the lake was warm, sort of green, and kind of nice but gross; the run was long, hilly, and nice but stinky; and the bike was windy, flat yet hilly, and treacherous but nice.
The last time I raced Lubbock, there was this nasty little slick spot on the road. It happened to be positioned right in my line of progress, right at the top of a tricky descent. Well, I fell down and hurt myself. I struggled to finish the race that year, in fact, it took me close to eight hours.
The last time Amanda raced a half ironman, she was so timid on the down hills that she pretty much wore her break pads right off the calipers.
The reason for mentioning the above points is that we decided we had better make ourselves VERY familiar with the two technical sections of the bike course. Sure, we had raced there three or four times before, but we wanted to be VERY safe. We ended up riding up and down Spiral Staircase once, and the Golf Course Hill (see above story about my wreck) three or four times. Combine these climbs with once up the Tunnel of Trees hill, and Amanda and I got a pretty good hill workout in that afternoon. Maybe not too smart to do the ups, but we'd sure be ready for the downs!
Saturday was a bit easier. Well, the morning was easy. We did a short swim and run with Luna and Blue, then we headed out for one more trip down the hills (and up them, of course) on our bikes. This concluded our training for the day, and although we got an early start, it was somehow already time to go to the expo for my scheduled talk, and to check in.
The afternoon got a bit tricky, as we realized we had still quite a bit to do before bedtime: pro meeting, grocery store, organize race gear, eat dinner, miscellaneous errands, etc. We did our best to get through the list, and along the way we inadvertently ditched my mom and sister for dinner. This added to a slightly stressful afternoon, but we took it in stride, and tried to move on to our tasks at hand.
As we were finally winding down in the hotel room, we got a call from Kimmy Fresh McCormack, our good buddy and cat sitter. It seemed there was another summertime hail storm hitting Boulder, and Kim was calling to tell us that our house was getting pounded by golf ball-size hail. Uh oh.
She called back thirty minutes later, saying that she and Allan had just begun bailing ten inches of standing water out of our downstairs living room. It turned out the hail busted open our garage door, rushed into the garage, and broke into our living room. The hail covered everything in our garage below about twelve inches, and the rain water made its way into the house. Frisco the cat, having headed for higher ground, was floating on top of an bobbing ottoman.
The astute reader sees the foreshadowing part now, I'm quite certain.
Amanda and I did our best to put all of this out of heads, as we knew that our home and our cat were in the capable hands of Kimmy Fresh. We went to sleep trying only to think of the race the next day.
The "next day" report will follow shortly.
...The car was packed and we were only four hours behind schedule. This wasn't too bad; I've been much later with my departures. The car was packed, the bikes were on the roof, and we were about to head outside. Before we could even reach the door, a little summertime storm kicked up, and suddenly it was raining. Then suddenly it was hailing. (For the less-than-astute reader: this is the foreshadowing part.)
The bikes got pounded, the car got pounded, and I got hungry. I had gone several hours without eating, and it was finally catching up to me. I got the bonk real hard. I saw this hail storm as the final sign (combined with the numerous little things that aided in the delay) that we should not leave town. We did not leave town. Unfortunately, my mother's house was to be our first stop on the drive to Lubbock, so postponing the departure would mean skipping the visit with my mom: not good.
After the storm passed, we removed the wet Javelins from the roof, and set ourselves to the task of getting a good night's sleep. I could have posted on my blog, but instead I chose to rest up for the six-hundred-mile journey the following day. Yes, Amanda's blog was updated, thank you very much.
Day number two on the trip to Lubbock saw a much more positive beginning. We were up at 5:30, miraculously; and to further prove that miracles do happen (and sometimes twice in one Colorado summer morning), we left the house before 6:30am! In fact, we were at the coffee shop and bagel joint before 6:31. Wow. Did this wonderful start to our trip (attempt number two) bode well for a wonderful race?
Our drive to Lubbock was easier than we thought it would be. The dogs were along for the ride, and even they seemed to enjoy the journey. We stopped three or four times for various reasons, including any combination or variation of the following: I was hungry, Amanda needed to stretch, the dogs were hungry, the dogs needed to pee, I needed to pee, the dogs needed to stretch, Amanda needed to pee, I needed the dogs to pee, Amanda needed me to stretch, and so fourth.
With about an hour to go, some ominous black clouds appeared on the horizon. These ominous clouds were the type of tornado-wielding, lightning-having, thunder-throwing, rain-spitting ominous clouds that appear on humorous but serious natural disaster movies The roads are pretty straight down in West Texas, so when you see something in front of you, you can pretty well count on it being in your path. This storm was in our path.
I've driven to or through Lubbock, Texas about two dozen times over the past fifteen years, and I think it rained on me half of one of those times. It just doesn't rain that much in Lubbock, especially in the summer months. Well, it rained. I opened the sunroof cover to make sure that the semi-hurricane-force winds we were battling hadn't knocked the very wet Javelins off the roof. At this point, the bikes were on the roof because the dogs were in the car. This should show you how much I love my dogs, because I really love my bikes, yet I was willing to put them in harm's way... just for my dogs. Ah jeez.
Arriving at the hotel, I noticed that the dead bugs that had accumulated on the front facing surfaces of every part of our bikes had been super-duper pressure washed off by the driving rain. Not bad: one less thing to tomorrow!
Tomorrow turned out to be Friday, which also turned out to be the day before the day before the race. Funny. We spent the day checking out Buffalo Springs Lake, the run course, and the bike course. It all pretty much seemed the exact same as the last time we were there: the lake was warm, sort of green, and kind of nice but gross; the run was long, hilly, and nice but stinky; and the bike was windy, flat yet hilly, and treacherous but nice.
The last time I raced Lubbock, there was this nasty little slick spot on the road. It happened to be positioned right in my line of progress, right at the top of a tricky descent. Well, I fell down and hurt myself. I struggled to finish the race that year, in fact, it took me close to eight hours.
The last time Amanda raced a half ironman, she was so timid on the down hills that she pretty much wore her break pads right off the calipers.
The reason for mentioning the above points is that we decided we had better make ourselves VERY familiar with the two technical sections of the bike course. Sure, we had raced there three or four times before, but we wanted to be VERY safe. We ended up riding up and down Spiral Staircase once, and the Golf Course Hill (see above story about my wreck) three or four times. Combine these climbs with once up the Tunnel of Trees hill, and Amanda and I got a pretty good hill workout in that afternoon. Maybe not too smart to do the ups, but we'd sure be ready for the downs!
Saturday was a bit easier. Well, the morning was easy. We did a short swim and run with Luna and Blue, then we headed out for one more trip down the hills (and up them, of course) on our bikes. This concluded our training for the day, and although we got an early start, it was somehow already time to go to the expo for my scheduled talk, and to check in.
The afternoon got a bit tricky, as we realized we had still quite a bit to do before bedtime: pro meeting, grocery store, organize race gear, eat dinner, miscellaneous errands, etc. We did our best to get through the list, and along the way we inadvertently ditched my mom and sister for dinner. This added to a slightly stressful afternoon, but we took it in stride, and tried to move on to our tasks at hand.
As we were finally winding down in the hotel room, we got a call from Kimmy Fresh McCormack, our good buddy and cat sitter. It seemed there was another summertime hail storm hitting Boulder, and Kim was calling to tell us that our house was getting pounded by golf ball-size hail. Uh oh.
She called back thirty minutes later, saying that she and Allan had just begun bailing ten inches of standing water out of our downstairs living room. It turned out the hail busted open our garage door, rushed into the garage, and broke into our living room. The hail covered everything in our garage below about twelve inches, and the rain water made its way into the house. Frisco the cat, having headed for higher ground, was floating on top of an bobbing ottoman.
The astute reader sees the foreshadowing part now, I'm quite certain.
Amanda and I did our best to put all of this out of heads, as we knew that our home and our cat were in the capable hands of Kimmy Fresh. We went to sleep trying only to think of the race the next day.
The "next day" report will follow shortly.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Ok, I've fallen so far behind that I don't know where to begin. I know I promised a Bolder Boulder report; there is a Stroke and Stride report to give; and then there's the second Stroke and Stride race; plus, there is the Lafayette Wine Festival 5k report to give. Where to begin?!?!
I think I'll skip ahead, in favor of getting back on track. Then I'll try to stay ahead of the game.
Today was a very busy day. Amanda and I woke up early, and hit the floor running... sort of. Amanda did a bit of training, and I jumped to the task of getting ready for our road trip. We're making the return trip to Lubbock to race the newly named 70.3 race down at Buffalo Springs Lake. I spent the morning getting some things ready for the race, and getting myself ready. After running numerous errands, Amanda and I were set to pack. Yes, that's right: we han't even packed our bags yet.
Rather than bore you with the details of how we did it, we somehow found ourselves finishing our packing at 4:00pm! With a goal deperture time of 12:00, we were a bit behind! WIth a six-hour+ drive to Albuquerque (our halfway point), we opted to eat a nice dinner and postpone the departure. So here we are, still in Boulder. I believe these things happen for a reason, and although we do not yet know why we were delayed, I'm sure it's all for the best.
Tomorrow morning bright and early, Amanda, Luna, and Blue will make our 589-mile trek to Lubbock, Texas (the home of Buddy Holley).
Be sure to check back in, as I'm sure there will be something exciting that's worthy of a report... if not before, definitely after the race!
I'm back on!
I think I'll skip ahead, in favor of getting back on track. Then I'll try to stay ahead of the game.
Today was a very busy day. Amanda and I woke up early, and hit the floor running... sort of. Amanda did a bit of training, and I jumped to the task of getting ready for our road trip. We're making the return trip to Lubbock to race the newly named 70.3 race down at Buffalo Springs Lake. I spent the morning getting some things ready for the race, and getting myself ready. After running numerous errands, Amanda and I were set to pack. Yes, that's right: we han't even packed our bags yet.
Rather than bore you with the details of how we did it, we somehow found ourselves finishing our packing at 4:00pm! With a goal deperture time of 12:00, we were a bit behind! WIth a six-hour+ drive to Albuquerque (our halfway point), we opted to eat a nice dinner and postpone the departure. So here we are, still in Boulder. I believe these things happen for a reason, and although we do not yet know why we were delayed, I'm sure it's all for the best.
Tomorrow morning bright and early, Amanda, Luna, and Blue will make our 589-mile trek to Lubbock, Texas (the home of Buddy Holley).
Be sure to check back in, as I'm sure there will be something exciting that's worthy of a report... if not before, definitely after the race!
I'm back on!
Monday, June 05, 2006
It would appear that I have some catching up to do. It would appear that Amanda is a much better blogger than I. It would appear that I have yet to tell about the calf contest I entered last week.
So, I thought I'd boost my moral after a true lack of performance in Baja. I noticed that there was a calf contest at the local Fleet Feet. I figured this would be just the thing I needed to jump back into the competitive arena... with a go at the podium.
I arrived with Amanda, who was to be a guest judge (I figured that meant I'd have a bit of an advantage over the other boys.) I checked out a few of my competitors, and noticed that there were some pretty beefy guys out there. I hoped that my tan would carry me past them, and perhaps my smooth shave would add extra points in my favor. I was confident I could do moderately well, so I jumped right up to be contestant number one!
The last-minute rule recap indicated that style and size were the two main criteria for the judging. With no mention of complexion or hairlessness, I soon realized I'd need some help. I grabbed Amanda's flip-flops, which sport a three-inch heel. I figured they'd bump me up in style, knowing I'd be middle of the road for size.
As contestant numero uno, I strutted my stuff, precariously perched on the tall sandals. I flexed, I ambled, I posed, I sauntered. I moved with grace--as much grace as the flops would allow--and I stood for my measurement. I notched a tad over 14 inches, a number that soon proved to be VERY common amongst my peers. Next step was to sit back and watch the show.
I truly enjoyed hooting and hollering at the others, and even coaxing some shy types to join in the fray. I was impressed by the largest lower legs, which stretched the tape at 16 1/4 inches!
After twenty calf-champ hopefuls passed by the scrutinizing eyes of my wife the Judge, and her two counterparts, we were all invited for a final flex-off.
Anticipation was dripping from the shoe displays.
(And I was getting a bit of a buzz from the beer I drank.)
(And I was wondering if the bodies attached to the sixteeners would get a buzz from just one beer.)
And then the Judges announced their final three! I didn't hear my name, and I was listening for it. No such luck.
It seemed I had been smoked yet again. Ah well, the winners of the contest were well deserving of the honors. Silvio Guerra's twelve+ calves were incredibly tan (or BROWN), very lean, and strutted with true style: first place. Contestant fourteen had the act down, and he combined it with a really bad outfit, and some bicycle chain grease, and a short strip tease: second place. And third place was an older, wiser, 16-inch-calf-having stud, who certainly displayed the most impressive ballet moves.
I was done for, but I was again reminded that it's not always about winning, but rather getting out there and strutting your stuff.
So, I thought I'd boost my moral after a true lack of performance in Baja. I noticed that there was a calf contest at the local Fleet Feet. I figured this would be just the thing I needed to jump back into the competitive arena... with a go at the podium.
I arrived with Amanda, who was to be a guest judge (I figured that meant I'd have a bit of an advantage over the other boys.) I checked out a few of my competitors, and noticed that there were some pretty beefy guys out there. I hoped that my tan would carry me past them, and perhaps my smooth shave would add extra points in my favor. I was confident I could do moderately well, so I jumped right up to be contestant number one!
The last-minute rule recap indicated that style and size were the two main criteria for the judging. With no mention of complexion or hairlessness, I soon realized I'd need some help. I grabbed Amanda's flip-flops, which sport a three-inch heel. I figured they'd bump me up in style, knowing I'd be middle of the road for size.
As contestant numero uno, I strutted my stuff, precariously perched on the tall sandals. I flexed, I ambled, I posed, I sauntered. I moved with grace--as much grace as the flops would allow--and I stood for my measurement. I notched a tad over 14 inches, a number that soon proved to be VERY common amongst my peers. Next step was to sit back and watch the show.
I truly enjoyed hooting and hollering at the others, and even coaxing some shy types to join in the fray. I was impressed by the largest lower legs, which stretched the tape at 16 1/4 inches!
After twenty calf-champ hopefuls passed by the scrutinizing eyes of my wife the Judge, and her two counterparts, we were all invited for a final flex-off.
Anticipation was dripping from the shoe displays.
(And I was getting a bit of a buzz from the beer I drank.)
(And I was wondering if the bodies attached to the sixteeners would get a buzz from just one beer.)
And then the Judges announced their final three! I didn't hear my name, and I was listening for it. No such luck.
It seemed I had been smoked yet again. Ah well, the winners of the contest were well deserving of the honors. Silvio Guerra's twelve+ calves were incredibly tan (or BROWN), very lean, and strutted with true style: first place. Contestant fourteen had the act down, and he combined it with a really bad outfit, and some bicycle chain grease, and a short strip tease: second place. And third place was an older, wiser, 16-inch-calf-having stud, who certainly displayed the most impressive ballet moves.
I was done for, but I was again reminded that it's not always about winning, but rather getting out there and strutting your stuff.
Monday, May 29, 2006
I definitely have some catching up to do. At this point, I have three updates to post, and I'm going to just take it one at a time. Yes, I should've had the Mexico report up sooner, but better late than never.
Amanda and I had quite the adventure last weekend, as we traveled to Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico. We thought it'd be a fun trip, and a good race to jumpstart us both with the racing. I had been feeling a bit stale from sitting around post-Arizona (I sure did take the resting on my laurels seriously!), and Amanda was just ramping up her training for the year. We flew in to San Diego on Thursday afternoon, and were greeted by our driver, Pablo. He indicated that we were his only pick-up, so we gathered our things, and made our way for his van. En route to the van, we got a call from Jack down in Texas, saying that Desiree Ficker was at the airport as well, and that she needed a ride. She had been waiting for quite a while, so she was glad when we showed up and brought her along with us. Our van was filled up and we were on our way.
We hopped on I-5, and headed south. After thiry or forty minutes, we found ourselves in a bit of a traffic jam. It seemed like the border crossing was a popular activity that afternoon. Hundreds of cars were waiting to cross into Tijuana. After about half an hour of waiting in stand-still traffic, we saw three news helicopters circling above. Then we noticed a camera crew pacing up and down the rows of parked cars on the freeway. Something was up. After two and a half hours of moving an inch or so per minute, we found ourselves directed into a left lane, and we were moving along suddenly. Next thing we know, we're in a U-turn lane, and we're heading back to the USA. What happened!?! Well, the border patrol agents wanting no part of explaining it to us, so we followed the orders, and headed north.
After a quick call to Roch Frey, Amanda's coach, we found a place to stay: with him and his wife Heather. We had no idea when the border would open, and we had enough of sitting in the van, so we opted to try again on Friday.
We had a very enjoyable time hanging out with Roch and Heather that night, and we even got to see our friend Kristin, and her son Gavyn. The next day we did an easy run and swim, before heading back down to Mexico. This time our trip across the border was delayed by the race director calling to tell Pablo (and us!) to pick up two more athletes at the airport. This was really going to be a full house now. We loaded up the others, but by then it was about 2:00pm, and we still had to cross the border. We were hoping there was not going to be another shooting, which, as it turned out, was what caused the previous day's shutdown.
We finally made it to Ensenada, about four o'clock that afternoon. We drove about looking for our hotels, and we ultimately got checked in and settled. Our friend Pablo was kind enough to take us to registration, where we signed up for the race and got our packets. After a decent dinner with Desiree, Amanda and I headed back to Party Central, also known as Our Hotel. We went to bed, and tried to ignore the screaming, singing, and loud partyanimalbeerdrinking. This was an adventure, I warned you.
Saturday morning came way too soon. Amanda was up and ready for a dip in the pool. I was up and ready to go back to bed. After Amanda's swim, we headed out to check out the bike course. I hadn't been on the bike since Wednesday, and my legs tend to tighten up with too much rest. Sounds strange, but it's true. The bike felt good, but I knew my legs were in for a tough day on Sunday.
After our ride, Amanda and I joined Desiree and her father for a quick tour of the bike course, in a car. We had heard the recently changed course included some tough climbing and tricky descents, so we thought we should see it before the race. It was tough: hilly, windy, and a bit scary, when you considered that the lack of guard rails was most likely responsible for the abundance of abandoned (crashed) cars in the ravines off to the (don't look!) side.
By the time our tour ended, it was late afternoon. Amanda and I stopped for a late lunch, and followed that up with a late nap. Next on the agenda was to get the bikes and gear ready for the morning. It was getting late, and we still needed to eat dinner. Let's just say that we were just then realizing that we weren't exactly following our standard pre-race routine. Oh well, ice cream and a later dinner (nearly 10:00pm) couldn't hurt us that badly....
Ok, the race report part of this story: After dropping our shoes off at T2, Amanda and I rode over to T1 to set up the bikes. It was about 5K away, so we had a bit of a warm up. Once there, we set up the gear and opted not to do a pre-race run: not sure why, as it would have helped... maybe. We made our way down to the start, only to find that our start time was pushed back about 40minutes.
By the time the gun went off, I was very hungry. I don't think that's a good thing, but I am tough, and I figured I could overcome that. I had a great swim for about 500 meters. I think that's when the tank emptied out. I was in for it! I made my way through the rest of the swim, and struggled up the LONG transition. I was really in for it! I jumped on my bike, and set out to make up some lost time. I only made it about five minutes before I went for my first Power Bar. Normally I don't eat much until later on, but I was desperate. Before I drone on and on too much about the race, suffice it to say that the bike ride went pretty badly. I was slow on the flats, slow into the wind, and slow up the climbs. I don't think I was particularly fast down hill or with the wind, but it felt a lot better. I was just not in it, and I couldn't make myself get in it. I am a very competitive person, so normally that helps, but on that particular day, I didn't have much umph. Oh well, I still figured I could run myself into the money.
Normally I run quite well after having a slow bike, but this was an exception to that rule. I started out well, but by about halfway, I began to peter out. Partly my muscles were achey and a bit sore, but mostly, I just felt like cruising. I think things would've been different had I not been ten or twelve minutes down... from fifth! I was really in fo it all right!
Ah well, I finished up, and proceeded to the highlight of the race: the massage! I was finished early enough to have two therapists work me over, and they were good: not afraid to work the muscles; no fluff here! I enjoyed the massage and waited for Amanda to join me.
Soon enough she arrived at the finish line, after a very solid nine or ten miles of running. She had been a bit out of it on the swim and bike, mostly because she was terrified on the bike. She's really only brave when she gets the chance to pre-ride the technical sections, and she didn't get that chance. So she started the run a bit disenchanted, but redirected about five k's into the it, and pushed the pace. Way to salvage the day!
The rest of Mexico was fun. We drank and ate (corona and tacos); we tried to rescue a puppy (see Amanda's blog); we hung out with some fun folks (Rhodesy, the Leghs, Desiree); and we enjoyed some incredible lattes. And then we set the goal of getting READY for our next race: Lubbock!
Next report: calf contest and Bolder Boulder! Tune in soon.,
Amanda and I had quite the adventure last weekend, as we traveled to Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico. We thought it'd be a fun trip, and a good race to jumpstart us both with the racing. I had been feeling a bit stale from sitting around post-Arizona (I sure did take the resting on my laurels seriously!), and Amanda was just ramping up her training for the year. We flew in to San Diego on Thursday afternoon, and were greeted by our driver, Pablo. He indicated that we were his only pick-up, so we gathered our things, and made our way for his van. En route to the van, we got a call from Jack down in Texas, saying that Desiree Ficker was at the airport as well, and that she needed a ride. She had been waiting for quite a while, so she was glad when we showed up and brought her along with us. Our van was filled up and we were on our way.
We hopped on I-5, and headed south. After thiry or forty minutes, we found ourselves in a bit of a traffic jam. It seemed like the border crossing was a popular activity that afternoon. Hundreds of cars were waiting to cross into Tijuana. After about half an hour of waiting in stand-still traffic, we saw three news helicopters circling above. Then we noticed a camera crew pacing up and down the rows of parked cars on the freeway. Something was up. After two and a half hours of moving an inch or so per minute, we found ourselves directed into a left lane, and we were moving along suddenly. Next thing we know, we're in a U-turn lane, and we're heading back to the USA. What happened!?! Well, the border patrol agents wanting no part of explaining it to us, so we followed the orders, and headed north.
After a quick call to Roch Frey, Amanda's coach, we found a place to stay: with him and his wife Heather. We had no idea when the border would open, and we had enough of sitting in the van, so we opted to try again on Friday.
We had a very enjoyable time hanging out with Roch and Heather that night, and we even got to see our friend Kristin, and her son Gavyn. The next day we did an easy run and swim, before heading back down to Mexico. This time our trip across the border was delayed by the race director calling to tell Pablo (and us!) to pick up two more athletes at the airport. This was really going to be a full house now. We loaded up the others, but by then it was about 2:00pm, and we still had to cross the border. We were hoping there was not going to be another shooting, which, as it turned out, was what caused the previous day's shutdown.
We finally made it to Ensenada, about four o'clock that afternoon. We drove about looking for our hotels, and we ultimately got checked in and settled. Our friend Pablo was kind enough to take us to registration, where we signed up for the race and got our packets. After a decent dinner with Desiree, Amanda and I headed back to Party Central, also known as Our Hotel. We went to bed, and tried to ignore the screaming, singing, and loud partyanimalbeerdrinking. This was an adventure, I warned you.
Saturday morning came way too soon. Amanda was up and ready for a dip in the pool. I was up and ready to go back to bed. After Amanda's swim, we headed out to check out the bike course. I hadn't been on the bike since Wednesday, and my legs tend to tighten up with too much rest. Sounds strange, but it's true. The bike felt good, but I knew my legs were in for a tough day on Sunday.
After our ride, Amanda and I joined Desiree and her father for a quick tour of the bike course, in a car. We had heard the recently changed course included some tough climbing and tricky descents, so we thought we should see it before the race. It was tough: hilly, windy, and a bit scary, when you considered that the lack of guard rails was most likely responsible for the abundance of abandoned (crashed) cars in the ravines off to the (don't look!) side.
By the time our tour ended, it was late afternoon. Amanda and I stopped for a late lunch, and followed that up with a late nap. Next on the agenda was to get the bikes and gear ready for the morning. It was getting late, and we still needed to eat dinner. Let's just say that we were just then realizing that we weren't exactly following our standard pre-race routine. Oh well, ice cream and a later dinner (nearly 10:00pm) couldn't hurt us that badly....
Ok, the race report part of this story: After dropping our shoes off at T2, Amanda and I rode over to T1 to set up the bikes. It was about 5K away, so we had a bit of a warm up. Once there, we set up the gear and opted not to do a pre-race run: not sure why, as it would have helped... maybe. We made our way down to the start, only to find that our start time was pushed back about 40minutes.
By the time the gun went off, I was very hungry. I don't think that's a good thing, but I am tough, and I figured I could overcome that. I had a great swim for about 500 meters. I think that's when the tank emptied out. I was in for it! I made my way through the rest of the swim, and struggled up the LONG transition. I was really in for it! I jumped on my bike, and set out to make up some lost time. I only made it about five minutes before I went for my first Power Bar. Normally I don't eat much until later on, but I was desperate. Before I drone on and on too much about the race, suffice it to say that the bike ride went pretty badly. I was slow on the flats, slow into the wind, and slow up the climbs. I don't think I was particularly fast down hill or with the wind, but it felt a lot better. I was just not in it, and I couldn't make myself get in it. I am a very competitive person, so normally that helps, but on that particular day, I didn't have much umph. Oh well, I still figured I could run myself into the money.
Normally I run quite well after having a slow bike, but this was an exception to that rule. I started out well, but by about halfway, I began to peter out. Partly my muscles were achey and a bit sore, but mostly, I just felt like cruising. I think things would've been different had I not been ten or twelve minutes down... from fifth! I was really in fo it all right!
Ah well, I finished up, and proceeded to the highlight of the race: the massage! I was finished early enough to have two therapists work me over, and they were good: not afraid to work the muscles; no fluff here! I enjoyed the massage and waited for Amanda to join me.
Soon enough she arrived at the finish line, after a very solid nine or ten miles of running. She had been a bit out of it on the swim and bike, mostly because she was terrified on the bike. She's really only brave when she gets the chance to pre-ride the technical sections, and she didn't get that chance. So she started the run a bit disenchanted, but redirected about five k's into the it, and pushed the pace. Way to salvage the day!
The rest of Mexico was fun. We drank and ate (corona and tacos); we tried to rescue a puppy (see Amanda's blog); we hung out with some fun folks (Rhodesy, the Leghs, Desiree); and we enjoyed some incredible lattes. And then we set the goal of getting READY for our next race: Lubbock!
Next report: calf contest and Bolder Boulder! Tune in soon.,
Sunday, May 14, 2006
I'm trying. I'm really trying. If I try a little harder, I might actually get to the blog postings more than once per week. But then again, with my long-windedness, maybe it's better I only post once in a while.
Sitting here at the end of a fun week, I am looking back at what I could have done, and at what I did do.
Early in the week, my plan was to do some racing, in an attempt to get some higher intensity training under my belt. I had a few good opportunities: Tuesday night's Dash and Dine, a local 5K race with a barbeque following; Saturday's 1-miler down in the Springs followed by a 5K; and last, and most certainly not least, the Rookie Triathlon in Austin, Texas. Which one did I chose? My results-scrolling friends surely know the answer: none of the above. It's always 'none of the above', by the way.
And to the why: I really wanted to accept the invitation from Jack and Adam's Austin Bicycle shop to return to my other hometown for a fun weekend triathlon; however, with a trip to Baja for the 70.3 next weekend, I just wimped out. I felt like the travel wouldn't be ideal, and I felt like I'd be better off at home doing some 'regular' training. While the weekend would've definitely offered ample opportunity for good food, folks, and fun (always delivered in Austin!), I chose to stay in Boulder.
So, the two running races? Well, I missed the Dash and Dine because I ended up flogging myself on the bike instead. It was an enjoyable flogging (Super James for the local readers), but a flogging nonetheless. I hadn't done such a power climb in a while, so again I wimped out of the race...
Before I admit to wimping out again, I had better come up with a better reason for not racing the one-miler/ 5k down in the Springs. Well, Amanda and I stayed up late entertaining friends, so we were too tired. Is being too tired wimpy? I hope not.
Regardless of not racing a single event, I did have a great weekend of training. I made it up to the Peak to Peak highway for the first time this year. For those of you that haven't ridden there, waste no more time: it's the best riding anywhere! After the ride, I did my first brick run since Arizona. I've been playing it safe with the recovery--I think--but I wanted to run off the bike at least once prior to racing again. I felt great, and managed to come dangerously close to my best time for my neighborhood 10k loop: not too shabby.
The rest of the weekend was spent building up a new bicycle. No, I haven't taken on a job, and no, I didn't get a new ride; my Barolo did get a new saddle today, though! I actually was in charge of assembling a shiny, black carbon rig for my friend Alex. He managed to crack his titanium bike, just prior to Arizona Ironman, so he was looking to switch frame materials. He resisted me urging him to buy a new Javelin, and settled on a Kuota Kaliber: a nice choice.
My good friends at Austin's most incredible tri shop, Jack and Adam's, were kind enough to accommodate Alex's wishes to be on a new bike NOW! They next-day shipped the frame to Boulder, where I was waiting with parts in hand for the assembly. I forget how satisfying it can be to put together a new ride. And I forget how good it feels to make someone as happy as a twelve-year-old boy in an unattended candy shop. Alex was eleated; the bike was smooth.
On the topic of triathlon retail stores, I must add one final thought. It really is a pleasure to have places of business, like J & A's--and like Inside Out Sports, for the NC crowd--who truly understand the value of good, hard work, and excellent customer service. Having spent several years the industry, it is refreshing to see that there are people out there who care about joing a job and doing it well.
Until next time.
Sitting here at the end of a fun week, I am looking back at what I could have done, and at what I did do.
Early in the week, my plan was to do some racing, in an attempt to get some higher intensity training under my belt. I had a few good opportunities: Tuesday night's Dash and Dine, a local 5K race with a barbeque following; Saturday's 1-miler down in the Springs followed by a 5K; and last, and most certainly not least, the Rookie Triathlon in Austin, Texas. Which one did I chose? My results-scrolling friends surely know the answer: none of the above. It's always 'none of the above', by the way.
And to the why: I really wanted to accept the invitation from Jack and Adam's Austin Bicycle shop to return to my other hometown for a fun weekend triathlon; however, with a trip to Baja for the 70.3 next weekend, I just wimped out. I felt like the travel wouldn't be ideal, and I felt like I'd be better off at home doing some 'regular' training. While the weekend would've definitely offered ample opportunity for good food, folks, and fun (always delivered in Austin!), I chose to stay in Boulder.
So, the two running races? Well, I missed the Dash and Dine because I ended up flogging myself on the bike instead. It was an enjoyable flogging (Super James for the local readers), but a flogging nonetheless. I hadn't done such a power climb in a while, so again I wimped out of the race...
Before I admit to wimping out again, I had better come up with a better reason for not racing the one-miler/ 5k down in the Springs. Well, Amanda and I stayed up late entertaining friends, so we were too tired. Is being too tired wimpy? I hope not.
Regardless of not racing a single event, I did have a great weekend of training. I made it up to the Peak to Peak highway for the first time this year. For those of you that haven't ridden there, waste no more time: it's the best riding anywhere! After the ride, I did my first brick run since Arizona. I've been playing it safe with the recovery--I think--but I wanted to run off the bike at least once prior to racing again. I felt great, and managed to come dangerously close to my best time for my neighborhood 10k loop: not too shabby.
The rest of the weekend was spent building up a new bicycle. No, I haven't taken on a job, and no, I didn't get a new ride; my Barolo did get a new saddle today, though! I actually was in charge of assembling a shiny, black carbon rig for my friend Alex. He managed to crack his titanium bike, just prior to Arizona Ironman, so he was looking to switch frame materials. He resisted me urging him to buy a new Javelin, and settled on a Kuota Kaliber: a nice choice.
My good friends at Austin's most incredible tri shop, Jack and Adam's, were kind enough to accommodate Alex's wishes to be on a new bike NOW! They next-day shipped the frame to Boulder, where I was waiting with parts in hand for the assembly. I forget how satisfying it can be to put together a new ride. And I forget how good it feels to make someone as happy as a twelve-year-old boy in an unattended candy shop. Alex was eleated; the bike was smooth.
On the topic of triathlon retail stores, I must add one final thought. It really is a pleasure to have places of business, like J & A's--and like Inside Out Sports, for the NC crowd--who truly understand the value of good, hard work, and excellent customer service. Having spent several years the industry, it is refreshing to see that there are people out there who care about joing a job and doing it well.
Until next time.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Ok, I thought that the extra time off was going to afford me a bit of time to update the blog more regularly, but it would appear that was an incorrect assumption. It seems that the more time I have to lie around on the couch, the more time I spend lying around on the couch, rather than updating the blog. Go figure.
Since Ironman Arizona, I've had some pretty easy times. The first five days after the race went by without a lick of swimming, biking, or running. It really felt good to sit on my butt, but to be honest, I don't think I could have done much even if I had wanted to. My legs were more beat up after this Ironman than any of my previous races. I realized that the long taper, combined with nailing my nutrition, really enabled me to push myself like I've never done before. And the consequences were two sore legs, and the need for a lot of sleep.
A week after the race, I found myself in the water for the first time. It felt good to move, and I had a decent amount of energy stored up by then. I actually had a great swim, albeit a short one of only twenty minutes. I eased back into the riding and a bit of running the next week, but I was definitely feeling a bit off. My legs were really taking their time to come around.
Three weeks after the race, I was feeling a bit spunky, so I jumped into a local race. I figured it was time to start the speed work, and what better way than to do a little five-miler. Amanda and our good friend Cassie were doing the 30k race, as a training day, so we all headed down to the Rez for some fun. My goal was just to run a nice tempo for thirty minutes or so, and I figured the company would push me along.
I was very unsure how I'd feel, after all, I'd done very little running for three weeks. And my top speed during the previous couple months of training topped out a bit underr six-minute pace. My goal for this season was to do base training from January to April; to do speed work in May and June; and to rebuild the base in July. I figured this would be a nice way to prepare myself for a shorter, more intense block of training for Hawaii. Well, it was time to start the speed training!
5:10 for the first mile. "My" lead biker informed me that I had crossed the mile mark in 5:10. I was in the lead, I had about a 100-meter gap on the next runner, and I was flying. It felt good. I was just thinking about how nice it was to run fast. I was just thinking about how many 5:10's I could do before it started to hurt. I was just thinking how much fun it was to be in the lead again; I was getting used to it! I was just thinking all of this when my legs and arms and hands and wrists and earlobes started to go numb. I belive it was from the lactic acid. I think I got a bit ahead of myself.
I notched it back to a more manageable 5:30, but the damage had been done. I had just run my fastest mile(s) since my pre-Hawaii training.... seven months ago. Ouch.
Ok, so my winning margin was about thirty five seconds: about the same time I put on everyone in that first mile. I suppose it's an ok strategy to win a race, but it wasn't exactly the quality tempo run I was shooting for. Ah well, I enjoyed my return to training, and to pushing the body again.
It's been a week since that race, and I've tried to stay consistent with the training. I have about two weeks until I race again: Baja 70.3, unless I do another speed work race! I'll try to be more conservative; to practice restraint. Who knows, but I am back to training, so I might be back to updating the blog!
Since Ironman Arizona, I've had some pretty easy times. The first five days after the race went by without a lick of swimming, biking, or running. It really felt good to sit on my butt, but to be honest, I don't think I could have done much even if I had wanted to. My legs were more beat up after this Ironman than any of my previous races. I realized that the long taper, combined with nailing my nutrition, really enabled me to push myself like I've never done before. And the consequences were two sore legs, and the need for a lot of sleep.
A week after the race, I found myself in the water for the first time. It felt good to move, and I had a decent amount of energy stored up by then. I actually had a great swim, albeit a short one of only twenty minutes. I eased back into the riding and a bit of running the next week, but I was definitely feeling a bit off. My legs were really taking their time to come around.
Three weeks after the race, I was feeling a bit spunky, so I jumped into a local race. I figured it was time to start the speed work, and what better way than to do a little five-miler. Amanda and our good friend Cassie were doing the 30k race, as a training day, so we all headed down to the Rez for some fun. My goal was just to run a nice tempo for thirty minutes or so, and I figured the company would push me along.
I was very unsure how I'd feel, after all, I'd done very little running for three weeks. And my top speed during the previous couple months of training topped out a bit underr six-minute pace. My goal for this season was to do base training from January to April; to do speed work in May and June; and to rebuild the base in July. I figured this would be a nice way to prepare myself for a shorter, more intense block of training for Hawaii. Well, it was time to start the speed training!
5:10 for the first mile. "My" lead biker informed me that I had crossed the mile mark in 5:10. I was in the lead, I had about a 100-meter gap on the next runner, and I was flying. It felt good. I was just thinking about how nice it was to run fast. I was just thinking about how many 5:10's I could do before it started to hurt. I was just thinking how much fun it was to be in the lead again; I was getting used to it! I was just thinking all of this when my legs and arms and hands and wrists and earlobes started to go numb. I belive it was from the lactic acid. I think I got a bit ahead of myself.
I notched it back to a more manageable 5:30, but the damage had been done. I had just run my fastest mile(s) since my pre-Hawaii training.... seven months ago. Ouch.
Ok, so my winning margin was about thirty five seconds: about the same time I put on everyone in that first mile. I suppose it's an ok strategy to win a race, but it wasn't exactly the quality tempo run I was shooting for. Ah well, I enjoyed my return to training, and to pushing the body again.
It's been a week since that race, and I've tried to stay consistent with the training. I have about two weeks until I race again: Baja 70.3, unless I do another speed work race! I'll try to be more conservative; to practice restraint. Who knows, but I am back to training, so I might be back to updating the blog!
Friday, April 14, 2006
In other news, my sister Stephanie has recently undergone the White Coat ceremony at South University, where she is studying to become a physician assistant. I'm very proud of her, and as usual, she has notched straight A's in her first quarter!
http://online2.southuniversity.edu/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=63&Itemid=1
http://online2.southuniversity.edu/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=63&Itemid=1
Thursday, April 13, 2006
The IM AZ Race Report
I never have understood how most folks seem capable of putting together race reports within hours of finishing their events. I never even understand how they get them done within a day or two. I always find that I need a few days to let it all sink in, to process things, and to sift through the interesting and non-interesting, the essential info and the nonsense. Who am I kidding: I don't ever know how to filter out the non-essential info, and that's why my race reports are so long. So hang in there, here I go:
Race week arrived pretty quickly for me this year. I had done some consistent training back in January and February, but most of March and April were spent resting, racing, and resting some more. I figured I would see how much better I felt with a long taper: four weeks. Now this four weeks included a rest week for Cali 70.3 and a recovery week after, so the tapering was not tough on me mentally. I enjoyed it actually.
Back to race week: all in all, it was smooth. I took a complete rest day on Wednesday, so I felt good about doing a bit more on Thursday. I swam some, rode one loop, and ran the hilly sections of the marathon. I was encouraged by how effortless everything felt; I hoped this would bode well for a good race.
Friday was another rest day with just a short 15-minute swim to loosen up. I found myself to be very relaxed and happy as I participated in the press conference and pre-race interviews for Ironmanlive. I was genuinely enjoying myself, and was truly looking forward to race day. Many of my Austin friends were there to compete as well (brief shout out to the Jack and Adam's Crew!!), so I had plenty of company. There was also a good sized Boulder contingent which included my good buddy, Alex. He and I feasted heartily at SOMA cafe and later at a spicy little joint called Oregano's. The theme of the week seemed to be eat, rest, eat, eat, and eat some more before resting again: my kind of week.
On Saturday I drove over to the airport in my borrowed Porsche Boxter (boy, I've got some good friends out there!) to pick up my mom. She was going to be heading up my race-day support crew, as Amanda was back in Boulder, in our attempts to save money (saving money is very boring, I know).
Before I make this race report too boring, I had better skip to the race itself.
The water was calm, so the swim looked to be faster than last year's chop-fest. I zipped up the silver QR, and jumped into the lake. The water temp was also up from last year, so we weren't in there freezing our teeth off. I found that James Bonny had positioned himself to the far right of everyone else, so I joined him. It did look like the angle would be better from there, and I figured I could sit on James' feet, as long as he's not out to win the swim. Turns out he was out to win the swim. And had Kiwi swim ace, Brent Foster not been there, he would have done just that. It also turns out that James is back in swim shape, and he's more than capable of leaving me in the dust (the more things change, the more they stay the same). I was dropped. Then the next pack dropped me. The the next pack dropped me. I believe my regular pack was one of those, so now I was left to fend for myself. I suffered through the rest of the swim, but exited in a respectable time nonetheless.
Out on the bike course, I set out to race my race. A blessing that came of my swim was that I was able to ride my own pace from the outset of the bike. After five or six miles, I realized that I was in the position to moderately ride to the turnaround, at a decent pace, without feeling like I was working too hard. At that point I set my race strategy: moderate out, easier back, moderately hard out, easier back, hard out, easier back. The six segments of this three-look out-and-back lent themselves to a smart pacing plan.
For the most part, I stuck to that strategy for the entire ride. I gradually applied some pressure when necessary, and I gradually moved my way through the field. As I approached the chase group of seven, I pushed the pace a bit, as an invitation for them to up the ante. As this was only fifty miles in, I knew that there was still plenty of racing to be done, so I controlled the pace as we rounded the turn. I noticed that I had gained the semi-permanent company of a then unknown Belgian, STIJN DEMEULEMEESTER. Along with him, we now had the company of Tim Deboom, and later Spencer Smith. As the miles wore on, I began to distance myself from Tim and Spencer, but had no luck shaking the persistent Belgian.
With just about five miles to go, after slowing slightly to relieve myself, I rounded a corner and realized the lead was now in sight. Francois Chabaud, the French powerhouse, was now only 100 meters up the road. I calculated that the added pressure to gain the lead would be worth it, in order to have the lead of the race, even if for only a while. After all, I had never come off the bike with the lead. I pushed to the front, with the ever-present Belgian in tow, and passed Chabaud. An exciting final three miles afforded me the opportunity to soak up A LOT of crowd enthusiasm.
I was off the bike in first. This was the first time all day that I realized it had gotten quite warm. While running from the bike hand-off to the bags, and later to the tent, the Arizona sun gave me a taste of what was in store for us all: heat.
I entered the change tent with Chabaud and Stijn right on my heels. We all plopped down to don the running shoes, and I took a quick survey of the competition. They looked a bit worked, and I hoped I looked differently, so all seemed fine... for the time being.
For a long time I will remember the feeling I had when I left T2. It was a first for me: to be the first marathoner on the day, and I knew deep down I was up to the task of setting the tone. This is not to say I was not a tad anxious. I knew that one of the best marathoners in our sport was not far behind me: Tim Deboom. I also knew that one of triathlon's most tenacious competitors was nearby as well: Spencer Smith. If I dwelled too long on matters, I would have realized there were over forty guys all coming strong, and ready to take that lead. You'd be correct to assume that I was running scared. But dwell I did not.
My newly formed run strategy told me to run that first loop--8.77miles--at as comfortable a pace as I could tolerate. That meant notching five or six 6:20's to 6:30's. I felt good; I felt relaxed. I felt like I could go all day. Then someone gave me a split, and my attitude adjusted. It was a race: Spencer had closed some of the gap, and Tim is still back there, so...
I began to push myself a bit more on loop two. I was getting some INCREDIBLE support from the spectators, especially those under the Mill Ave bride, and from those who had been recruited to Team Lovato by my mom. To all whom may be reading: I thank you very much!
Loop two was a bit of a blur: I was running faster, or harder, but the time gap seemed to be shrinking. Spencer was closing, I was plugging along. I felt good, and I pondered how good he must feel to be gaining on my pace. I was fortunate to have some speedy exchanges at the aid station, as volunteers were readily available to pass me some much-needed fluids and gel. I took a lot of fuel on board, determined that if Smith were to catch me, it would not be due to a bonk on my part.
At the end of loop three, I glanced to my right, while crossing Mill Avenue bridge. For the first--and only--time all day, I laid my eyes on the hunter, on the path below the bridge: the gap looked to be a mere sixty or seventy seconds. It was getting close, to be certain. I made my way to the start of the third loop, calculating the time he'd need to take per mile, if he were to catch me. I didn't like what the math was telling me, so I quickly put that out of my head.
What replaced the thought were some words of wisdom that stuck with me for the remainder of the run: It's an hour of your life. Never were any six words spoken to me with more perfect timing. Thanks, Huddle. I realized that it was up to me to work for one more hour, otherwise, I'd be mulling over the loss for many months to come. I set myself to the task: one more hour.
An hour later, I still wasn't done! Ok, I was, but wouldn't it be funny if I wasn't?!?
I hit that last loop with everything I had in me. The quads were already achey, and the pavement (the concrete!) was feeling harder and harder with each footfall. Nonetheless, I was enjoying the hell out of myself! That was what this sport it all about. I worked the final four miles with an extra bit of intensity, just in case Spencer was doing the same. I knew this race was going to be determined in the last four miles, I just didn't envision it like this!
Once on the Mill Ave bridge, with the final turn in sight, I settled myself with the idea that I had it in the bag. If Spencer wasn't on that bridge with me, there was no chance I'd lose it. Thankfully, there was no need for a sprint finish, as I had imagined there might have been. I say thankfully because my two-minute gap afforded me the opportunity to soak up every moment of the finish of my second Ironman win. It was, as one might imagine, incredible. I slapped hands and waved and smiled and hugged and hopped and bounced across the line. And the Voice of Ironman told me--before he told anyone else--that I am and Ironman!
I never have understood how most folks seem capable of putting together race reports within hours of finishing their events. I never even understand how they get them done within a day or two. I always find that I need a few days to let it all sink in, to process things, and to sift through the interesting and non-interesting, the essential info and the nonsense. Who am I kidding: I don't ever know how to filter out the non-essential info, and that's why my race reports are so long. So hang in there, here I go:
Race week arrived pretty quickly for me this year. I had done some consistent training back in January and February, but most of March and April were spent resting, racing, and resting some more. I figured I would see how much better I felt with a long taper: four weeks. Now this four weeks included a rest week for Cali 70.3 and a recovery week after, so the tapering was not tough on me mentally. I enjoyed it actually.
Back to race week: all in all, it was smooth. I took a complete rest day on Wednesday, so I felt good about doing a bit more on Thursday. I swam some, rode one loop, and ran the hilly sections of the marathon. I was encouraged by how effortless everything felt; I hoped this would bode well for a good race.
Friday was another rest day with just a short 15-minute swim to loosen up. I found myself to be very relaxed and happy as I participated in the press conference and pre-race interviews for Ironmanlive. I was genuinely enjoying myself, and was truly looking forward to race day. Many of my Austin friends were there to compete as well (brief shout out to the Jack and Adam's Crew!!), so I had plenty of company. There was also a good sized Boulder contingent which included my good buddy, Alex. He and I feasted heartily at SOMA cafe and later at a spicy little joint called Oregano's. The theme of the week seemed to be eat, rest, eat, eat, and eat some more before resting again: my kind of week.
On Saturday I drove over to the airport in my borrowed Porsche Boxter (boy, I've got some good friends out there!) to pick up my mom. She was going to be heading up my race-day support crew, as Amanda was back in Boulder, in our attempts to save money (saving money is very boring, I know).
Before I make this race report too boring, I had better skip to the race itself.
The water was calm, so the swim looked to be faster than last year's chop-fest. I zipped up the silver QR, and jumped into the lake. The water temp was also up from last year, so we weren't in there freezing our teeth off. I found that James Bonny had positioned himself to the far right of everyone else, so I joined him. It did look like the angle would be better from there, and I figured I could sit on James' feet, as long as he's not out to win the swim. Turns out he was out to win the swim. And had Kiwi swim ace, Brent Foster not been there, he would have done just that. It also turns out that James is back in swim shape, and he's more than capable of leaving me in the dust (the more things change, the more they stay the same). I was dropped. Then the next pack dropped me. The the next pack dropped me. I believe my regular pack was one of those, so now I was left to fend for myself. I suffered through the rest of the swim, but exited in a respectable time nonetheless.
Out on the bike course, I set out to race my race. A blessing that came of my swim was that I was able to ride my own pace from the outset of the bike. After five or six miles, I realized that I was in the position to moderately ride to the turnaround, at a decent pace, without feeling like I was working too hard. At that point I set my race strategy: moderate out, easier back, moderately hard out, easier back, hard out, easier back. The six segments of this three-look out-and-back lent themselves to a smart pacing plan.
For the most part, I stuck to that strategy for the entire ride. I gradually applied some pressure when necessary, and I gradually moved my way through the field. As I approached the chase group of seven, I pushed the pace a bit, as an invitation for them to up the ante. As this was only fifty miles in, I knew that there was still plenty of racing to be done, so I controlled the pace as we rounded the turn. I noticed that I had gained the semi-permanent company of a then unknown Belgian, STIJN DEMEULEMEESTER. Along with him, we now had the company of Tim Deboom, and later Spencer Smith. As the miles wore on, I began to distance myself from Tim and Spencer, but had no luck shaking the persistent Belgian.
With just about five miles to go, after slowing slightly to relieve myself, I rounded a corner and realized the lead was now in sight. Francois Chabaud, the French powerhouse, was now only 100 meters up the road. I calculated that the added pressure to gain the lead would be worth it, in order to have the lead of the race, even if for only a while. After all, I had never come off the bike with the lead. I pushed to the front, with the ever-present Belgian in tow, and passed Chabaud. An exciting final three miles afforded me the opportunity to soak up A LOT of crowd enthusiasm.
I was off the bike in first. This was the first time all day that I realized it had gotten quite warm. While running from the bike hand-off to the bags, and later to the tent, the Arizona sun gave me a taste of what was in store for us all: heat.
I entered the change tent with Chabaud and Stijn right on my heels. We all plopped down to don the running shoes, and I took a quick survey of the competition. They looked a bit worked, and I hoped I looked differently, so all seemed fine... for the time being.
For a long time I will remember the feeling I had when I left T2. It was a first for me: to be the first marathoner on the day, and I knew deep down I was up to the task of setting the tone. This is not to say I was not a tad anxious. I knew that one of the best marathoners in our sport was not far behind me: Tim Deboom. I also knew that one of triathlon's most tenacious competitors was nearby as well: Spencer Smith. If I dwelled too long on matters, I would have realized there were over forty guys all coming strong, and ready to take that lead. You'd be correct to assume that I was running scared. But dwell I did not.
My newly formed run strategy told me to run that first loop--8.77miles--at as comfortable a pace as I could tolerate. That meant notching five or six 6:20's to 6:30's. I felt good; I felt relaxed. I felt like I could go all day. Then someone gave me a split, and my attitude adjusted. It was a race: Spencer had closed some of the gap, and Tim is still back there, so...
I began to push myself a bit more on loop two. I was getting some INCREDIBLE support from the spectators, especially those under the Mill Ave bride, and from those who had been recruited to Team Lovato by my mom. To all whom may be reading: I thank you very much!
Loop two was a bit of a blur: I was running faster, or harder, but the time gap seemed to be shrinking. Spencer was closing, I was plugging along. I felt good, and I pondered how good he must feel to be gaining on my pace. I was fortunate to have some speedy exchanges at the aid station, as volunteers were readily available to pass me some much-needed fluids and gel. I took a lot of fuel on board, determined that if Smith were to catch me, it would not be due to a bonk on my part.
At the end of loop three, I glanced to my right, while crossing Mill Avenue bridge. For the first--and only--time all day, I laid my eyes on the hunter, on the path below the bridge: the gap looked to be a mere sixty or seventy seconds. It was getting close, to be certain. I made my way to the start of the third loop, calculating the time he'd need to take per mile, if he were to catch me. I didn't like what the math was telling me, so I quickly put that out of my head.
What replaced the thought were some words of wisdom that stuck with me for the remainder of the run: It's an hour of your life. Never were any six words spoken to me with more perfect timing. Thanks, Huddle. I realized that it was up to me to work for one more hour, otherwise, I'd be mulling over the loss for many months to come. I set myself to the task: one more hour.
An hour later, I still wasn't done! Ok, I was, but wouldn't it be funny if I wasn't?!?
I hit that last loop with everything I had in me. The quads were already achey, and the pavement (the concrete!) was feeling harder and harder with each footfall. Nonetheless, I was enjoying the hell out of myself! That was what this sport it all about. I worked the final four miles with an extra bit of intensity, just in case Spencer was doing the same. I knew this race was going to be determined in the last four miles, I just didn't envision it like this!
Once on the Mill Ave bridge, with the final turn in sight, I settled myself with the idea that I had it in the bag. If Spencer wasn't on that bridge with me, there was no chance I'd lose it. Thankfully, there was no need for a sprint finish, as I had imagined there might have been. I say thankfully because my two-minute gap afforded me the opportunity to soak up every moment of the finish of my second Ironman win. It was, as one might imagine, incredible. I slapped hands and waved and smiled and hugged and hopped and bounced across the line. And the Voice of Ironman told me--before he told anyone else--that I am and Ironman!
An Ironman win at Arizona!
I thought I'd throw that out there... even though I'm not quite prepared with my race report, I am dangerously close to being ready. I wanted to jump on here and send a quick reply to all of you who have emailed me congratulatory notes. I appreciate them quite a lot, and I'm going to reply to each and every one of them very soon. Also very soon I will be posting my race report here and on the website. Thanks for checking in, and I promise to report back ASAP!
Thanks for all the support!
I thought I'd throw that out there... even though I'm not quite prepared with my race report, I am dangerously close to being ready. I wanted to jump on here and send a quick reply to all of you who have emailed me congratulatory notes. I appreciate them quite a lot, and I'm going to reply to each and every one of them very soon. Also very soon I will be posting my race report here and on the website. Thanks for checking in, and I promise to report back ASAP!
Thanks for all the support!
Sunday, March 19, 2006
The race season is officially under way. I raced the California Ironman 70.3 race yesterday, also known as a half ironman. Not sure why they can't call it a half ironman; it's supposed to be about not making finishers feel less adequate than the finishers of a 140.6 Ironman.
Forecasts were for rain all morning, so I was very happy to see the sun come out as we were setting up transition. It turned out I didn't have any need for my rain jacket and waterproof gloves: thank goodness!
The 54-degree water gave quite a blast to the face, but wasn't too bad after a few minutes of warm up. My feet went numb pretty quickly, but otherwise the swim wasn't too bad. I jumped into a decent group right from the outset, and I felt just fine holding the quick pace set by Olympian Andy Potts. However, he quicky put on the afterburners, and broke up our chase group. I managed to hold on until about 800 meters in, at which point I popped out the back. I was then in the midst of a moderately paced chase pack: not where I wanted to be, but not bad.
Exiting the water, and tackling the abnormally long transition, I realized that it was going to be a while before my feet warmed back up. At least I wasn't feeling the pain of running barefoot on that much asphalt.
I made a decent change to the bike, but was not as lightning fast as I would have liked: just one of the few things that gets a bit rusty in the off-season.
Within a few miles, I realized that I was riding pretty well. I had power right away, and felt like I was on track to notch a solid sub 2:20 bike split. I reeled in some of the early leaders, and applied some pressure on the early rollers. By the first turnaround on the bike, I counted that I was in seventh place. WIth more than forty miles to go, I felt I was in great position. I moved my way to fifth place by mile 18 or 20, and held steady for a few miles. At that point, I was overtaken by a small group of four. An admitted weakness of mine is that I don't particularly like to ride in groups. I like to dictate my own pace and effort. In general I chose to ride solo, even if that means riding with less of an advantage. However, the decision I made at mile 22 or so--not to ride with this group--proved to be a bad one. I sat fifty meters back of the rider in fourth position for a few miles, and gained a bit of ground on them up an over the longest climb of the race. It was on the subsequent down hill that I began to lose more ground that I had inteded. A badly timed bonk and a bit of lost focus cost me time to the group. Just as they were pulling away from me, they managed to pick up two more riders up the road.
At this point, I was losing ground, and their group of six was gaining steam. Perhaps I should have made the decision to tuck in, thus taking full advantage of the power of a group. Perhaps I'll learn from that mistake.
After slowing quite badly for a spell, I regained my momentum, in great part due to my added fuel. I knew that if the time gap wasn't too bad, I'd be able to notch a solid run to get back into the upper ranks.
Transitioning to the run, I felt terrible. On most occasions I move pretty smoothly to the run, as my legs come around quite quickly. This was an exception: my legs were tight and achey.
Looking up the road, it seemed that I was losing groud to a few folks, and in the least, was not closing any gaps. I would need to turn on some speed, or I'd be finishing out of the money.
I soon realized that I was being passed: Josiah Middaugh went by, and later Greg Krause zipped past. I stayed with them for a while, but as they caught Luke Dragstra, they gained steam, and I lost more ground. Things were not looking good for me.
At mile five I sucked down a PoweGel, and was instantly rejuvenated. By mile six I was a new man: I began to apply some pressure, and was finally running under six-minute pace. I was beginning to think I was stuck at Ironman pace all day. I got a bit angry, and I believe it helped me run. I was determined to finish strong in this race. I saw that I was gaining ground on Greg, Josiah, and Luke. Soon I passed each of them, and continued to apply some pressure. I finally felt loose, and was ready to push the pace, and really make myself hurt a bit.
I charged through miles six to eleven holding a quick pace; however, I did find myself bonking repeatedly. Unbelievably I took another gel at miles 8, 10, 11, and 12! I've never taken so much gel in any half marathon, and I will certainly take that into account in my nutritional prep for IM Arizona.
After securing sixth place on the course, I was able to notch it back over the last mile, still finishing strong, but not able to gain or lose a place.
Overall I was pleased with the race. I was strong enough to have some fun, smart enough to learn a ton, and tenacious enough not to give up when I was a bit off pace. I enjoyed getting back to racing, and am anxious to give it another go next month down in Tempe.
In the meantime, I'm going to get some good rest.
Until next time.
Forecasts were for rain all morning, so I was very happy to see the sun come out as we were setting up transition. It turned out I didn't have any need for my rain jacket and waterproof gloves: thank goodness!
The 54-degree water gave quite a blast to the face, but wasn't too bad after a few minutes of warm up. My feet went numb pretty quickly, but otherwise the swim wasn't too bad. I jumped into a decent group right from the outset, and I felt just fine holding the quick pace set by Olympian Andy Potts. However, he quicky put on the afterburners, and broke up our chase group. I managed to hold on until about 800 meters in, at which point I popped out the back. I was then in the midst of a moderately paced chase pack: not where I wanted to be, but not bad.
Exiting the water, and tackling the abnormally long transition, I realized that it was going to be a while before my feet warmed back up. At least I wasn't feeling the pain of running barefoot on that much asphalt.
I made a decent change to the bike, but was not as lightning fast as I would have liked: just one of the few things that gets a bit rusty in the off-season.
Within a few miles, I realized that I was riding pretty well. I had power right away, and felt like I was on track to notch a solid sub 2:20 bike split. I reeled in some of the early leaders, and applied some pressure on the early rollers. By the first turnaround on the bike, I counted that I was in seventh place. WIth more than forty miles to go, I felt I was in great position. I moved my way to fifth place by mile 18 or 20, and held steady for a few miles. At that point, I was overtaken by a small group of four. An admitted weakness of mine is that I don't particularly like to ride in groups. I like to dictate my own pace and effort. In general I chose to ride solo, even if that means riding with less of an advantage. However, the decision I made at mile 22 or so--not to ride with this group--proved to be a bad one. I sat fifty meters back of the rider in fourth position for a few miles, and gained a bit of ground on them up an over the longest climb of the race. It was on the subsequent down hill that I began to lose more ground that I had inteded. A badly timed bonk and a bit of lost focus cost me time to the group. Just as they were pulling away from me, they managed to pick up two more riders up the road.
At this point, I was losing ground, and their group of six was gaining steam. Perhaps I should have made the decision to tuck in, thus taking full advantage of the power of a group. Perhaps I'll learn from that mistake.
After slowing quite badly for a spell, I regained my momentum, in great part due to my added fuel. I knew that if the time gap wasn't too bad, I'd be able to notch a solid run to get back into the upper ranks.
Transitioning to the run, I felt terrible. On most occasions I move pretty smoothly to the run, as my legs come around quite quickly. This was an exception: my legs were tight and achey.
Looking up the road, it seemed that I was losing groud to a few folks, and in the least, was not closing any gaps. I would need to turn on some speed, or I'd be finishing out of the money.
I soon realized that I was being passed: Josiah Middaugh went by, and later Greg Krause zipped past. I stayed with them for a while, but as they caught Luke Dragstra, they gained steam, and I lost more ground. Things were not looking good for me.
At mile five I sucked down a PoweGel, and was instantly rejuvenated. By mile six I was a new man: I began to apply some pressure, and was finally running under six-minute pace. I was beginning to think I was stuck at Ironman pace all day. I got a bit angry, and I believe it helped me run. I was determined to finish strong in this race. I saw that I was gaining ground on Greg, Josiah, and Luke. Soon I passed each of them, and continued to apply some pressure. I finally felt loose, and was ready to push the pace, and really make myself hurt a bit.
I charged through miles six to eleven holding a quick pace; however, I did find myself bonking repeatedly. Unbelievably I took another gel at miles 8, 10, 11, and 12! I've never taken so much gel in any half marathon, and I will certainly take that into account in my nutritional prep for IM Arizona.
After securing sixth place on the course, I was able to notch it back over the last mile, still finishing strong, but not able to gain or lose a place.
Overall I was pleased with the race. I was strong enough to have some fun, smart enough to learn a ton, and tenacious enough not to give up when I was a bit off pace. I enjoyed getting back to racing, and am anxious to give it another go next month down in Tempe.
In the meantime, I'm going to get some good rest.
Until next time.
The race season is officially under way. I raced the California Ironman 70.3 race yesterday, also known as a half ironman. Not sure why they can't call it a half ironman; it's supposed to be about not making finishers feel less adequate than the finishers of a 140.6 Ironman.
Forecasts were for rain all morning, so I was very happy to see the sun come out as we were setting up transition. It turned out I didn't have any need for my rain jacket and waterproof gloves: thank goodness!
The 54-degree water gave quite a blast to the face, but wasn't too bad after a few minutes of warm up. My feet went numb pretty quickly, but otherwise the swim wasn't too bad. I jumped into a decent group right from the outset, and I felt just fine holding the quick pace set by Olympian Andy Potts. However, he quickly put on the after burners, and broke up our chase group. I managed to hold on until about 800 meters in, at which point I popped out the back. I was then in the midst of a moderately paced chase pack: not where I wanted to be, but not bad.
Exiting the water, and tackling the abnormally long transition, I realized that it was going to be a while before my feet warmed back up. At least I wasn't feeling the pain of running barefoot on that much asphalt.
I made a decent change to the bike, but was not as lightning fast as I would have liked: just one of the few things that gets a bit rusty in the off-season.
Within a few miles, I realized that I was riding pretty well. I had power right away, and felt like I was on track to notch a solid sub 2:20 bike split. I reeled in some of the early leaders, and applied some pressure on the early rollers. By the first turnaround on the bike, I counted that I was in seventh place. With more than forty miles to go, I felt I was in great position. I moved my way to fifth place by mile 18 or 20, and held steady for a few miles. At that point, I was overtaken by a small group of four. An admitted weakness of mine is that I don't particularly like to ride in groups. I like to dictate my own pace and effort. In general I chose to ride solo, even if that means riding with less of an advantage. However, the decision I made at mile 22 or so--not to ride with this group--proved to be a bad one. I sat fifty meters back of the rider in fourth position for a few miles, and gained a bit of ground on them up an over the longest climb of the race. It was on the subsequent down hill that I began to lose more ground that I had intended. A badly timed bonk and a bit of lost focus cost me time to the group. Just as they were pulling away from me, they managed to pick up two more riders up the road.
At this point, I was losing ground, and their group of six was gaining steam. Perhaps I should have made the decision to tuck in, thus taking full advantage of the power of a group. Perhaps I'll learn from that mistake.
After slowing quite badly for a spell, I regained my momentum, in great part do to my added fuel. I knew that if the time gap wasn't too bad, I'd be able to notch a solid run to get back into the upper ranks.
Transitioning to the run, I felt terrible. On most occasions I move pretty smoothly to the run, as my legs come around quite quickly. This was an exception: my legs were tight and achey.
Looking up the road, it seemed that I was losing ground to a few folks, and in the least, was not closing any gaps. I would need to turn on some speed, or I'd be finishing out of the money.
I soon realized that I was being passed: Josiah Middaugh went by, and later Greg Krause zipped past. I stayed with them for a while, but as they caught Luke Dragstra, they gained steam, and I lost more ground. Things were not looking good for me.
At mile five I sucked down a PoweGel, and was instantly rejuvenated. By mile six I was a new man: I began to apply some pressure, and was finally running under six-minute pace. I was beginning to think I was stuck at Ironman pace all day. I got a bit angry, and I believe it helped me run. I was determined to finish strong in this race. I saw that I was gaining ground on Greg, Josiah, and Luke. Soon I passed each of them, and continued to apply some pressure. I finally felt loose, and was ready to push the pace, and really make myself hurt a bit.
I charged through miles six to eleven holding a quick pace; however, I did find myself bonking repeatedly. Unbelievably I took another gel at miles 8, 10, 11, and 12! I've never taken so much gel in any half marathon, and I will certainly take that into account in my nutritional prep for IM Arizona.
After securing sixth place on the course, I was able to notch it back over the last mile, still finishing strong, but not able to gain or lose a place.
Overall I was pleased with the race. I was strong enough to have some fun, smart enough to learn a ton, and tenacious enough not to give up when I was a bit off pace. I enjoyed getting back to racing, and am anxious to give it another go next month down in Tempe.
In the meantime, I'm going to get some good rest.
Until next time.
Forecasts were for rain all morning, so I was very happy to see the sun come out as we were setting up transition. It turned out I didn't have any need for my rain jacket and waterproof gloves: thank goodness!
The 54-degree water gave quite a blast to the face, but wasn't too bad after a few minutes of warm up. My feet went numb pretty quickly, but otherwise the swim wasn't too bad. I jumped into a decent group right from the outset, and I felt just fine holding the quick pace set by Olympian Andy Potts. However, he quickly put on the after burners, and broke up our chase group. I managed to hold on until about 800 meters in, at which point I popped out the back. I was then in the midst of a moderately paced chase pack: not where I wanted to be, but not bad.
Exiting the water, and tackling the abnormally long transition, I realized that it was going to be a while before my feet warmed back up. At least I wasn't feeling the pain of running barefoot on that much asphalt.
I made a decent change to the bike, but was not as lightning fast as I would have liked: just one of the few things that gets a bit rusty in the off-season.
Within a few miles, I realized that I was riding pretty well. I had power right away, and felt like I was on track to notch a solid sub 2:20 bike split. I reeled in some of the early leaders, and applied some pressure on the early rollers. By the first turnaround on the bike, I counted that I was in seventh place. With more than forty miles to go, I felt I was in great position. I moved my way to fifth place by mile 18 or 20, and held steady for a few miles. At that point, I was overtaken by a small group of four. An admitted weakness of mine is that I don't particularly like to ride in groups. I like to dictate my own pace and effort. In general I chose to ride solo, even if that means riding with less of an advantage. However, the decision I made at mile 22 or so--not to ride with this group--proved to be a bad one. I sat fifty meters back of the rider in fourth position for a few miles, and gained a bit of ground on them up an over the longest climb of the race. It was on the subsequent down hill that I began to lose more ground that I had intended. A badly timed bonk and a bit of lost focus cost me time to the group. Just as they were pulling away from me, they managed to pick up two more riders up the road.
At this point, I was losing ground, and their group of six was gaining steam. Perhaps I should have made the decision to tuck in, thus taking full advantage of the power of a group. Perhaps I'll learn from that mistake.
After slowing quite badly for a spell, I regained my momentum, in great part do to my added fuel. I knew that if the time gap wasn't too bad, I'd be able to notch a solid run to get back into the upper ranks.
Transitioning to the run, I felt terrible. On most occasions I move pretty smoothly to the run, as my legs come around quite quickly. This was an exception: my legs were tight and achey.
Looking up the road, it seemed that I was losing ground to a few folks, and in the least, was not closing any gaps. I would need to turn on some speed, or I'd be finishing out of the money.
I soon realized that I was being passed: Josiah Middaugh went by, and later Greg Krause zipped past. I stayed with them for a while, but as they caught Luke Dragstra, they gained steam, and I lost more ground. Things were not looking good for me.
At mile five I sucked down a PoweGel, and was instantly rejuvenated. By mile six I was a new man: I began to apply some pressure, and was finally running under six-minute pace. I was beginning to think I was stuck at Ironman pace all day. I got a bit angry, and I believe it helped me run. I was determined to finish strong in this race. I saw that I was gaining ground on Greg, Josiah, and Luke. Soon I passed each of them, and continued to apply some pressure. I finally felt loose, and was ready to push the pace, and really make myself hurt a bit.
I charged through miles six to eleven holding a quick pace; however, I did find myself bonking repeatedly. Unbelievably I took another gel at miles 8, 10, 11, and 12! I've never taken so much gel in any half marathon, and I will certainly take that into account in my nutritional prep for IM Arizona.
After securing sixth place on the course, I was able to notch it back over the last mile, still finishing strong, but not able to gain or lose a place.
Overall I was pleased with the race. I was strong enough to have some fun, smart enough to learn a ton, and tenacious enough not to give up when I was a bit off pace. I enjoyed getting back to racing, and am anxious to give it another go next month down in Tempe.
In the meantime, I'm going to get some good rest.
Until next time.
Monday, March 13, 2006
After returning from North Carolina, Boulder was hit with a series of early Spring/ late Winter storms. We've been pretty lucky with the witner so far, but it's now the snowy month, and it looks like we're in for it! It seems that 2006 has been characterized by warm temps with high winds, or calm but chilly.
Due to the first snow arriving on Wednesday, I opted for a big day on Tuesday. I ended up with a great long ride and short run, followed by a nice swim before my massage. We were given a break on Thursday, so I was out on the bike after a day of only running, swimming, and lifting. I've really been hitting the weights hard this winter, and I feel it's going to help out with my bike strength. Sure, I might only ride three days this week, but I'll pound the quads pretty hard with the leg press!
Friday was a great day, because Amanda and I decided to head up to Brainard Lake for some snowshoeing with the dogs. We hadn't done any winter sports all year, and Friday was the perfect opportunity. It was snowing pretty hard down in Boulder, which generally means that up at 10,000 feet it's even more snow! Luna suited up in her winter parka (she barely stood above most of the snow drifts, as she's only a couple inches tall!). And Blue managed his temperature control by running extremely quickly back and forth and back and forth. I wish we had photos to show what a sight it is to see him move! After 1:15 of running and walking, Amanda and I were pretty much pooped. We removed the frozen snowballs from Luna's undercarriage, and made the trip back down the mountain to Boulder.
Next up was a nice swim and another hard lift. In between the two we had a very enjoyable dip in the hot tub. My first luxury purchase when I hit the big time wil be a hot tub for our deck here at the house: I love the spa!
Saturday was another outdoor day, and I notched in another good ride. I followed that up with a run... just as the snow began to fall again.
It's now looking like another gorgeous, sunny week for Boulder, but mid-week I'm off to California (where I always freeze my buns off!) to race the half Ironman in Oceanside (formerly Ralph's).
Until next time.
Due to the first snow arriving on Wednesday, I opted for a big day on Tuesday. I ended up with a great long ride and short run, followed by a nice swim before my massage. We were given a break on Thursday, so I was out on the bike after a day of only running, swimming, and lifting. I've really been hitting the weights hard this winter, and I feel it's going to help out with my bike strength. Sure, I might only ride three days this week, but I'll pound the quads pretty hard with the leg press!
Friday was a great day, because Amanda and I decided to head up to Brainard Lake for some snowshoeing with the dogs. We hadn't done any winter sports all year, and Friday was the perfect opportunity. It was snowing pretty hard down in Boulder, which generally means that up at 10,000 feet it's even more snow! Luna suited up in her winter parka (she barely stood above most of the snow drifts, as she's only a couple inches tall!). And Blue managed his temperature control by running extremely quickly back and forth and back and forth. I wish we had photos to show what a sight it is to see him move! After 1:15 of running and walking, Amanda and I were pretty much pooped. We removed the frozen snowballs from Luna's undercarriage, and made the trip back down the mountain to Boulder.
Next up was a nice swim and another hard lift. In between the two we had a very enjoyable dip in the hot tub. My first luxury purchase when I hit the big time wil be a hot tub for our deck here at the house: I love the spa!
Saturday was another outdoor day, and I notched in another good ride. I followed that up with a run... just as the snow began to fall again.
It's now looking like another gorgeous, sunny week for Boulder, but mid-week I'm off to California (where I always freeze my buns off!) to race the half Ironman in Oceanside (formerly Ralph's).
Until next time.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Last weekend was a fun one, as Amanda and I traveled out to North Carolina to participate in a clinic put on by Inside-Out Sports. One of Amanda's sponors for the past few years, and a defacto sponsor of mine--thanks, Cid!--the Cary-NC-based tri shop brought us out to help with this one-day clinic. The local tri club, Triangle Tri, teamed up with IOS to host this event. In all the day provided for a group bike ride, a group run, and several individual sessions.
We had about 100 athletes in attendance, some of whom were seasoned vets, while others were beginners. Amanda and I really enjoyed telling our stories about how we became triathletes, and how we've progressed since our humble beginnings. We got to share a bit more during the half-hour individual Q & A sessions following lunch. In addition to our part, athletes were afforded the chance to do bike fits, biomechanical gait analyses, stroke critiques, transition clinics, and much more. All in all, it was an impressive clinic, and a great first-time show.
We took advantage of being out in NC to scope out the area as a potential future home. We've always been drawn to North Carolina, and the Chapel Hill area has been top of the list. We didn't get a chance to see Ashville or Wilmington, but we'll plan another trip out there before too long.
In addition to the clinic, Amanda and I did a bit of training with the local tri crew. We did a couple of nice rides, and enjoyed a long run on the trails just outside Raleigh. All in all, it was a great trip, with a lot of laughs and a bit of easy training.
We're now back in Boulder, and are entering into March: the snowy month!
That's it for now.
We had about 100 athletes in attendance, some of whom were seasoned vets, while others were beginners. Amanda and I really enjoyed telling our stories about how we became triathletes, and how we've progressed since our humble beginnings. We got to share a bit more during the half-hour individual Q & A sessions following lunch. In addition to our part, athletes were afforded the chance to do bike fits, biomechanical gait analyses, stroke critiques, transition clinics, and much more. All in all, it was an impressive clinic, and a great first-time show.
We took advantage of being out in NC to scope out the area as a potential future home. We've always been drawn to North Carolina, and the Chapel Hill area has been top of the list. We didn't get a chance to see Ashville or Wilmington, but we'll plan another trip out there before too long.
In addition to the clinic, Amanda and I did a bit of training with the local tri crew. We did a couple of nice rides, and enjoyed a long run on the trails just outside Raleigh. All in all, it was a great trip, with a lot of laughs and a bit of easy training.
We're now back in Boulder, and are entering into March: the snowy month!
That's it for now.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
So I'm back in Boulder, and I've spent much of this week rebounding from my trip to Austin. I seem to be pretty tired still, and my muscles have not had too much get-up in them. I just returned from a much needed massage, where Kris pounded out all the knots and adhesions in my quads. I suspect I'll be a bit sore tomorrow, but will be well on the road to a full recovery... just in time for the weekend of training. I am struggling a bit to get used to breathing at altitude again. It seems that ten days is just enough to 'forget' what it's like to be oxygen deprived. Although the hematocrit levels don't dip until twenty days at sea level, that 'feel' sure does go. It'll probably be a few more days before that comes back. In the meantime, I'll be suffering.
On the flip side, I think I made a switch for the better with the weather. Boulder has been sunny and beautiful, with mild temps; whereas Austin is rumored to be in the cool rain now. Good timing with the training trip!
I had better get back to some of my 'around the house' chores: we're still trying to get settled into our new home!
Until next time.
On the flip side, I think I made a switch for the better with the weather. Boulder has been sunny and beautiful, with mild temps; whereas Austin is rumored to be in the cool rain now. Good timing with the training trip!
I had better get back to some of my 'around the house' chores: we're still trying to get settled into our new home!
Until next time.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Day 10 of my training trip arrived with some chilly temps. This is about as cold as it gets in Austin: 33 degrees with drizzle, fog and wind. Hmmm... I chose to sleep in rather than join T and B for the start of the half.
I dragged myself out of bed at 8:00am for a 9:00am start to my long run. My goal was to trek down to the course, follow it in reverse (not backwards!) to see as much of the action as I could.
I quickly realized that a lot of dreams and goals were not to be accomplished that morning. I saw many a runner--from elite to back-of-the-packer--suffering through these tough conditions. I was thankful that I was just training that morning.
I found an athlete that I coach around the mile 17 mark, and she was in the process of freezing her way off pace. She just missed her goal of qualifying for Boston, but finished despite the nasty morning temps.
I finished up a really nice long run: 21 miles with enough roads and trails, and ups and downs to keep my happy. It felt very good to get that final bit of sea level mileage in the legs.
I fueled up with about a gallon of Ultragen (best recovery drink ever!) and headed out for day three of the same ride. I somehow found myself in an enjoyable little rut/ patttern, and the ride suited me just fine. I did have to wait a little bit for Todd this time (he had notched a solid 20miler that moring as well). Ah well, it was great to have his company, except on the hills. Come on. Ha!
The trip was nearing its end, and I was pretty much done. I had met all of my training goals, in fact, had exceeded many of them. I had eaten at all my favorite restaurants, and visited with all my good friends. All that was left was one final visit to Jack and Adam's Austin bikes: really the best tri shop I've seen.
We capped the day off with a trip out to Jon and Nancy's place, also known as Casa Hill, or Rancho de Hill. (At least I know it this way.) We pounded back a few glasses of red wine, ate way too much, and laughed quite a bit. It was really a nice end to a great trip.
Bright and early Monday morning, Todd dropped me at the Austin airport where I boarded a flight for Colorado. I'm now back in Boulder, planning my next block of training to ramp myself up for Ironman Arizona.
Check in for more later...
I dragged myself out of bed at 8:00am for a 9:00am start to my long run. My goal was to trek down to the course, follow it in reverse (not backwards!) to see as much of the action as I could.
I quickly realized that a lot of dreams and goals were not to be accomplished that morning. I saw many a runner--from elite to back-of-the-packer--suffering through these tough conditions. I was thankful that I was just training that morning.
I found an athlete that I coach around the mile 17 mark, and she was in the process of freezing her way off pace. She just missed her goal of qualifying for Boston, but finished despite the nasty morning temps.
I finished up a really nice long run: 21 miles with enough roads and trails, and ups and downs to keep my happy. It felt very good to get that final bit of sea level mileage in the legs.
I fueled up with about a gallon of Ultragen (best recovery drink ever!) and headed out for day three of the same ride. I somehow found myself in an enjoyable little rut/ patttern, and the ride suited me just fine. I did have to wait a little bit for Todd this time (he had notched a solid 20miler that moring as well). Ah well, it was great to have his company, except on the hills. Come on. Ha!
The trip was nearing its end, and I was pretty much done. I had met all of my training goals, in fact, had exceeded many of them. I had eaten at all my favorite restaurants, and visited with all my good friends. All that was left was one final visit to Jack and Adam's Austin bikes: really the best tri shop I've seen.
We capped the day off with a trip out to Jon and Nancy's place, also known as Casa Hill, or Rancho de Hill. (At least I know it this way.) We pounded back a few glasses of red wine, ate way too much, and laughed quite a bit. It was really a nice end to a great trip.
Bright and early Monday morning, Todd dropped me at the Austin airport where I boarded a flight for Colorado. I'm now back in Boulder, planning my next block of training to ramp myself up for Ironman Arizona.
Check in for more later...
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