Tired of the Drama

I had a two day run of crazy out on the local roads.

I'm not going to go into the blow by blow because anyone who rides knows the score. On Tuesday, I had a driver pull out in front of me without signaling or stopping, cut me off twice, stop short and try to run me down. Did I drop some f-bombs in there ? Yes, I did. In fact, I'm pretty certain the first invective after being cut off the led to the rest of my adventure.

The next night I went on a group ride. At one point, I was leading out two other riders by about 75 yards. We were riding on a quiet side road, and they were side by side. Should they probably have been single file ? Yes, sure.

The driver of the SUV who laid on the horn for about five seconds first slowed down ominously and then revved his engine and took a run at the other two cyclists. I didn't have to look. I know that sound.

Then he made a run at me. I did one of those head leans to get a visual, not turning my head because I tend to drift left when I do that. He buzzed me, nice and tight, rear view about 6 inches from my head as he went by, the dull heat of the vehicle oppressive on a muggy night.

I was pissed, and his window was open. What, even if he had any beef at all (which he'd forfeited by using his SUV as a weapon), had I done, except be out on the road ?

I let loose a real tirade and I followed him. At one point he considered stopping, but as Steve Surprise said, when he heard me use the phrase 'vehicular assault' he decided to just keep going.

Margit and I had an unhappy discussion afterwards because we have a difference of opinion on the matter. She thinks no matter what happens, you should just let it go. I appreciate that point of view. I agree that there are a lot of crazy people out there. As Coach Troy says in the Gates Pass ride 'it's just the nature of the beast' that some motorists are not going to give cyclists room or right of way and 'you just have to deal with it.'

At the same time, there's just something fundamentally wrong about letting people walk (or drive) all over you all the time. We have some great routes down here on the shoreline, but we really have some crappy drivers too, and on roads that are tight, winding, with poor sight lines and low speed limits.

Unquestionably, we have to do our part. The person riding in the road next to Steve the other night should have moved right as soon as they realised there was a car back. It's definitely up to cyclists to keep up good relations. But the five second horn blast and using his car to 'buzz' three cyclists is inexcusable, dangerous, and it's also illegal. And letting people cut you off with no response, which is certainly my number one issue with motorists- just yield the right of way to me when I have it- please! Don't cut me off turning onto a road I'm riding down in a straight line. Letting that go- if that doesn't tell that motorist that yes, that's the thing to do, what does it do ?

Nevertheless, I'm sick of all the drama out there. I don't want to be yelling and screaming at people and I certainly don't want a side view mirror in the side of the head.

I just want to ride.

Maybe I'll try it Margit's way...

Health Net Triathlon

I signed up for the race Friday morning- I wanted to make sure that doing the race wasn't going to cause problems with the rest of the family- workout plans, a party we had to go to later in the day, and so on. I don't really look forward to Olympic races because they are not really geared to my skill set. Comparing the distances, it's 75% of a half-ironman swim, with less than half the bike or run.

That's not to say that the distance isn't fair. There is no such thing as an 'unfair distance'. There are just distances and courses that favour one athlete over another, although I think some courses promote fairness on the course more than others.

After the meltdown I'd had in the water a week and an half ago, Margit didn't want me to go. But I was in the pool Monday through Thursday, amassing what for me was a titanic 7000 yards swimming. I also was getting in the runs and rides. This is my training time and that means training through a race like Health Net- I'd gotten back to back 50+ mile days on the bike going into the race as I get read for the Fairfield Marathon and the longer triathlons I know are in my future. I love having days off in June.

I got to the race early, found myself racked near another late entry (I assume), Peter Daly, who is in great shape and racing really well.

I was in the water early, a little after 6:30. It was cold, and I could smell something in it that promised a sinus infection later in the day, but I got really comfortable and was confident that I could easily take this swim on. I got out and back in a few more times as the race start neared, trying to stay warmed up, keep my googles from fogging, and so on.

At the same time, i was trying to think my way through the difference between warming up and racing in the water. The calm, placid, if slow work ethic when I swim alone is difficult to maintain in a race.

But as the women got in first and started, my pulse was down low, I felt good. We were counted into the water one at a time and were joking the way guys do right before a race. And then we were off, starting from a stand in waist deep water. I was surprised to find I only had to walk a few steps then I could start swimming and catching water. Great. No one was clawing their way over my back, hitting me.

All good.

Then about 250 yards into the swim, I started losing my happy thoughts. I did start getting jostled and the buoys were hard to see. I had to lift my head up to sight and I could see guys pulling away and...

That was it. My heart-rate shot up to about 175. I tried putting my head down and turning to breath every four strokes, but I didn't. I had to lift my head up to get any water and this leads to me choking on the water because I'm still trying to swim, because deep down inside me there's some part of me that just can't accept giving up, which is not a good thing. And then even that snapped and I had the thought that the side of the lake was right over there and I should just get out before I got hurt.

I hate moments like this. I hate writing about moments like this. But hey, it's what really happened.

But I'd already been through this drill. There's the first open water swim of the season, and there's the first race of the season, and they suck, but you get over it.

I put my head back in the water and took my normal strokes and turned my head on every fourth one and eventually, I started to breath again when I did it, because I had no choice. It probably lasted all of 30 seconds, but it easily cost me a minute in lost time before I really settled down and hit my 'stride'. Then I was around the far buoys and headed on the long swim across the river- there really needs to be some intermediate buoys...

My hands and feet got cold. I kept swimming. I swallowed a little water once on the way back to the middle buoy, but other than that it was unremarkable. I made the first of the two left-hand buoys on the course and then started for the last buoy.

That buoy was a very long way away. You can tell me the course is a GPSed .9 miles. I won't buy it. The course seems to have been about 1.1 miles long. After you turn at the last buoy it's just back to shore and there are people everyone. Again, I'd put an intermediate 'back' buoy in the water- the swim back was spread out like an ironman swim. there were people everywhere.

I crawled out of the drink at about 35 minutes, based on the clock reading '40 something'. I had an end rack, which was great, because I hate my wetsuit (or anyone else's, and that's happened) covering up my running shoes or food.

My transition was not great. I'm still learning how to get my new time trial helmet over my mellon, and socks. Are socks actually designed to go over your feet ? Yeah, I guess they are but maybe not wet feet in a hurry. But my feet were cold. I needed the socks.

Then I was off.

Despite the fact that my entire team did this race last year, I knew absolutely nothing about the course. This is where the intelligent me and the rock-headed athlete just don't interface- at all. I will actually go to a race I know nothing about, in fact, go to a race and not even know, except in general terms, what the distances are. Maybe that's why I like halves and ironmans. Not much guesswork. I had no idea how far I was riding, what the terrain was. I don't know the first thing about Shelton, or rather I didn't...

I did know the start of the bike course was a climb because I'd driven straight down into the park. I was not ready for the right -hand turn that- surprise, led to more climbing.

And more climbing.

Then you climb.

No, I'm serious. You just start this long, slow climb after climbing your ass up out of the park and don't get me wrong. I love to climb. I do. If you look in my 'suitcase' of skills, there are two things in it- climbing, and Elite bicycles putting me on a good bike. And I was passing people by the dozen, even though I had to admit early defeat to the course and shift into low gear. I used to think 'granny gear' meant the small chain ring, but it felt more like survival gear. I had my cadence up in the 80s, but I was only going 12 mph at one point.

There was a police officer at one intersection and he was all 'you're almost at the top'. Liar. But finally I did crest the first long escape from the park and got on a downhill and there was Coach Troy in my head, doing a greatest hit riff from Hillacious, the Uphill Grind, and the virtual rides. 'You have to maintain your intensity when you crest. Hammer, hammer. Other people are recovering. Get that cadence up over 100rpm...'

And I did, because I was attacking the downhill. I mean, the next uphill. And the next, and the next.

This went on for a while. You went screaming down a hill- I was going 42.5 mph and not pedaling down the first really big downhill because I was sure there was a turn at the bottom- and then you were going uphill at 15 mph again. This just went on and on. I mostly just passed people, however, I got passed, and repassed, and got passed again, and repassed again, one guy in my age group who definitely had my number on the downhills, and a couple of younger guys.

But for the most part I was passing and outworking people on the downhills, pedaling when other people weren't- I hit 45 mph.

Then we went over the dam and that was where I passed Gary. I was also in the sites of three guys that were riding me down, and they caught me right before the turn off 34 back towards Shelton. I didn't like being passed, especially by one or more guys I'd already passed, so I countered, moved up into second of the five behind a guy in tights- is that legal, when you can't see his age- and was about to overtake him when-

I misssed a turn. Instead of sending us over the bridge they sent us under it. As everyone went by I had to pull a u-turn in front of a municipal bus. Was there enough time ? I thought maybe...

Then I was chasing. I was mad at myself and these guys were kind of grouped. So I attacked. As we turned back onto what would be a steady climb I gave it everything I had and passed all of them and I was really flying- 22-23 mph up a hill. I gapped all but the guy in the tights, who must have been on a team, and he got to the park entrance before me and then out descended me.

I almost didn't dismount soon enough and was slow getting off the bike but finally that too was over and then it was all good. I slipped on my Zoots, grabbed my Cliff Shots and started running along the beach.

I was a little discouraged. No one was right in front of me, someone was right behind me. I took a shot and then drank from the bottle I was carrying- Heed.

Then it was up onto the road and before I knew it, I was at the one mile mark. And there was Peter Daly. I was at 1 mile. If he was coming back in at mile 5 then I was 25 minutes behind him. That was devastating. I mean, with the swim, he probably had 9-10 minutes on me, which meant I'd have had to have lost 15 minutes, or what took me an hour took him 45 minutes. The math didn't make any sense. I was either having a dud of a race or there were two loops on the run.

Don't get me wrong- Peter's a great guy. He's racing phenomenally well, but that big a gap would have really meant I was racing poorly. I redoubled my effort. Except we were climbing steep hills. I started to question myself as I reached the apex of the hills. Was I still really racing hard ? Was I giving 100%. I have nightmares where I'm running a race and going so slow that I'm walking up the hills, and I was flashing back to that.

Then I crested, heard my respiration, and started bolting down the backside, and no, I wasn't holding back.

The turn-around was blissfully close after that on the only short flat section of the run. Then I was headed back, looking for the leaders coming back at me. I saw Gary Rodebaug headed out on the first run as I headed back.

The run is a junk-buster in both directions, with a super-aggressive climb up to get to the downhill that was a heart-busting uphill. Finally, I reached three miles and there was Steve Surprise cheering us on. I'd seen race leaders coming back at me, so I'd relaxed a lot. I turned gingerly at the cone, no sense cramping, and headed back. I think I took another shot, drank more Heed. There was a woman and a guy in red I was chasing, but there were also first-lappers in the way now. Near the same paex, one guy in a race kit was walking and I wanted to say 'No walking, it's a 10K' but who knows what brought him to that point so I just said 'Keep it up'. I caught the guy in red and headed down the hill.

Taking the cones at the turn around I was excited, because I was still passing people in my age group and other people from my wave. I bumped one woman going over the railroad tracks and she gave me a lot of grief, but she took that turn/bend way too wide and I just brushed her. I struggled up the hill and then down the long run back towards the finish.

I was chasing one guy, which became clear after we got to the cones. I asked Steve where I was going and he said straight to the finish. I kept chasing this last person, thinking yes, I can knock off one more person. At 5.9 miles I made the pass and then I just opened it up and gave it what I had.

It was Martin Cappiello, who is just having awesome races. He never stopped pushing me, which allowed me to slot in 4 seconds ahead of a guy from the wave after me.

I found Rob Barker and we ran a twenty-five minute warm-down, I checked the results and headed home.

I managed to scratch out an age-group win, but was 19th among the individual finishers. It was a decent first race for me, but I know I can do a lot better.

Ironman Florida Bike, Part II

I really hated writing the last blog post.

There's a part of me that feels like you just have to suck the drafting up and should be able to overcome it. Of course, the reason the rules are there for the merely human is that you absolutely cannot overcome a thirty-man (person) pack. They will beat you. The math is inexorable.

I also don't want anyone reading this to think that overall, I didn't enjoy the race. I did. If my friends or my wife had been willing to go back I would certainly have signed up for next year.


The last two runs I took at the packs were on a stepping stone series of hills (yes, there are hills in the race), which was an easy attack for me, and at the special needs, which is in the first half of the race. I had determined not to use special needs because it requires a full stop in this race and that's right out, and because it's on a hill. I was amazed to see many of the serial drafters stopping at the special needs bags, so I rode the hill hard, made the turn as another athlete I went by said he was looking forward to the tailwind.

It was there. You turn, you come off the climb onto a steady slight downhill and the wind is at your back. I jacked it up, got going, and urinated at 20+ mph, which is definitely the way to go.

That stretch goes on for a while and I started slowly losing ground on the guys in front of me, some of who were working in twos and threes. I just wanted after a while to get into what we call 'the neighbourhood.'

Before you get there, you pass the halfway point, and I did at about 2:37 or 2:38. My stomach was already a little skitchy. I decided to expand the next feeding point from 30-45 minutes and take water at the next stop, but I kept with the gatorade, took some race caps, and worked on spinning. My left hamstring was very sore, which I had expected. I'd gotten a massage a week before the race and was told that was 'very tight.' It just plain ached, but I was still able to stay aero and keep my knees into the top tube (thanks, Coach Troy).

The neighbourhood, as some of my Force 5 teammates and I call it, is not exactly a neighbourhood, given that a double yellow line runs down the middle. The road in this area- 60-70 miles, sucks. I mean, it sucks. there's a crease in the road every 20 yards, some of the creases have angular potholes- our friend Michael flatted in here- and kudos to him for walking 20 minutes after his repairs didn't take.

I was dying to get out of this rumblestrip of a road, and did, only to find myself on a slight incline and teeth into the wind.

There's a point in every Ironman, in the back half of the ride, where you are riding hard into the wind and you start to feel like, well, like shit. You either feel sorry for yourself, or you remind yourself the bike course will change direction a bunch more times. I went with that.

I got onto the out and back and there was a lot of jockeying. I was going back and forth with a group of five guys. They would pass me, string out, I would pick them off in ones and twos and then they would come at me in a group again. Talk about self-defeating.

But I was riding well. I finished off the out and back and before I knew it I was at the bridge. Once there, I saw Ian and Margit as I climbed the bridge. I got some separation from some people and ratcheted it up a notch on the way back. I did try to pee for the fifth time briefly, but decided to get as much time shaved off the bike split and hit a porta-potty in transition.

When we turned back towards PCB, the wind was in our face again, and people started to come back to me and I took every advantage to pass people on the way in. The ride back in only seems to take forever, and slightly longer when it's windy. I know that stretch of road better than any part of the bike course as it's how we drive in to PCB at the beginning of the trip and back out at the end.

I came in under 5:20 and felt good about my ride. Unlike last time I did the race, I was able to walk when I got off the bike. I'd ridden 112 miles, done it clean, and I was ready to run. Really ready.

Except I had to pee...

Ironman Lake Placid- Part III

I should probably take a step back here as I head into the second loop of the bike (is writing this easier than riding was ? Hmm....) and talk about some of the nuts and bolts of what I was doing.

I bought some lemon-lime endurance gatorade power mix a week before the race on amazon.com and had two bottles mixed to start the race with. That way I could start taking nutrition on the course and except for switching to orange (which I find provides less gastric comfort), there would be no change. I was drinking about one bottle every 40 minutes and eating Cliff Bloks- one bag per half hour. Each hour, I took some endurolytes and race caps. At two hours, I ate as many Nacho Cheese Combos as I could get down- the oddity of eating a dry food (out of a baggy) on a wet day was not lost on me.

Or my mouth.

I read a lot of people use advil or other pain killers when they race (and train). That's not my style.

So I headed back out on the second loop. I'd cut through a lot of the slower cyclists who share my lack of swimming skills. The second loops is always different because of this. There's more competition and unfortunately, more drafting as well. I've always felt that LP is not a drafter's course, but well, any course offers drafting opportunities.

I did not attack the big long hill that starts just after the run out and back.

I did attack on the downhill. I had one guy in front of me that I was not going to pass, so I settled in 5 bike lengths behind him, waiting until that first section 'flattens' out and then attacked and passed him.



The second long section of downhills was just like the first. I was going by people, fighting to see through the rain and moving right on those few cases where I got passed (three more riders passed me). I went by the sign that clocks your speed at the end of the downhills and remembered Coach Troy talking about people getting pulled over for speeding. Not today.

I took the turn with more authority but then my groin started to hurt. I continued to crank out the cadence and I finally decided that the pain was from needing to urinate. This time I didn't wait until Upper Jay. It was in this section that I started to notice that I was no longer attacking (and in a few cases being counter-attacked) by single cyclists. I was attacking groups of 3-4 riders.

I hate this. You are working alone, you pass them, they work together to pass you back.

It is what it is. I was peeing without stopping, and this is huge for me and proves the need to practice this on your long rider. Is it gross that I'm blogging about urinating ? Sure. Is urinating at 15-20 mph better than hopping off an urinating at 0 MPH. You bet !

I rode the hill up to Jay nice and steady, turned onto 86 to Wilmington and went small gear. Dave Greenfield talked me out of repeating 2006's race where I rode a 23-11 gearset. I was on 25-12 and was riding well. However, I got passed by one rider, which because I have issues with being passed, especially on hills, upset me a little. Sure, there are tons of riders that can roast me, but that doesn't mean I like being passed. However, about 3/4 of the way up the hill, I passed him back. This would be a repeating theme. The guy is younger, maybe 30-34. His name has faded from my memory already and I have no doubt in a few years that he'll be kicking my ass all the way up the hill. But at the time my thought- and my advice to him is this- you have to climb all the way up the hill.

Maybe in my old age I'm just a smarter climber.

the packs were starting to form, but I just kept to my own pace. I was able to get to the out on the out and back, take a few riders before the big downhill again and felt like I was doing well. Then a pack went by. I told myself to let it go and stood up and peed and ate.

I jockeyed with this group to the turn in the out and back, dropping when passed, then picking them off in threes and fours when the hills separated them. I kind of lost my temper at the turn-around and bombed down the hill and that was a little dangerous. I think, with 4 IMLPs under my belt, just based on number of ambulances seen, that the section from the turn-around to the big uphill on the out-and-back is the most dangerous on the course. There is no side to the road and you have bikes filling both lanes. I made one pass just inside the yellow line where my handlebar came within 4 inches of a handlbar going in the other direction. I could smell the other rider.

That was the kind of ride I was having. I didn't panic, I just kept going.

The group passed me again when I was peeing, all in a row, and this time, I lost my temper. We were in a flat area. I finished peeing, then accelerated and passed all of them at about 30mph. But it hurt, and I cursed myself after I did it because it was a stupid waste of effort.

At the feed station I asked if the volunteer that had gotten hit was all right, and was told yes. That was good, if true.

I approached the last stage of the ride the same way. attacked the little downhill- thought about A & W strip clams fondly, then climbed. For the first time, I heard the motorcycle of the official. Like all riders who hope they are honest and rule-abiding, that noise makes you nervous. It makes me less nervous on the hills because I will be passing people, not because I'm a great rider, but because I'm 5'4" and 135 pounds. Hills vs. me is a good match-up.

More on that later.

As I crowned the worst hill on the course, the one just before the high falls gorge, I saw fog setting in. Fog. I've ridden through this pass in fog before and let me tell you, that's a ride that sucks.

The fog was not as bad as I'd feared, but the wind was up and the pass was- hard. I rode the pass area conservatively.

Out of the pass, the motorcycle came back. I was ahead of the scrum of riders that were working together, but the front three picked me off. I dropped back. I had to tap the breaks to get four lengths back. This frustrates me. Pass me or don't but get it done. Tapping my breaks got my passed by three more, and then three more. They clumped together. I sat up. The motorcycle was between us. I put my right hand up as the referee looked back at me, imploring him to do something. This, above all things, frustrates me. When the rider who drops pleads with the official to enforce the rules, when there is a clump in front of you, make the call.

Didn't happen. I would go by the penalty tent and it was empty.

It is what it is.

By Big Cherry, I'd passed all but one of them.

The bears were again not that hard. I switched to the small gears halfway up Big Bear, kept passing people until the turn onto Mirror Lake Drive, and then shut it down a little. I rode easy into town, but then picked it up at the turn by the lake because what else can you do when the crowd is cheering.

I asked if anyone knew who had gotten stage win but no one answered. I took the turn wide into the barriers by the Olympic Center- how often do you get to ride like you're under the flame rouge in the Tour. And then I was off my bike and limping towards a porta-potty...

Grey Days

This is the time of year where the grey days can be hard. When it's January and it's grey and rain (or snow) threatens to ruin the day when you have a long workout on your schedule, you head for your basement and don't think twice. I'd rather sweat for three and an half hours in the basement than spend half an hour bundling up to ride outside.

In June, it's funny how the same decision is a lot more difficult to feel good about. Sort of.

With packing for the Lake Placid trip going on, I thought I should be at least available in case something needed to be done (contacts had to be picked up, as it turned out), so I did my run on the treadmill- 45 minutes listening to Coldplay at 8-8.5 mph. When I got done, I felt like I'd had a much better workout than I would have in the 60 degree, rain-soaked morning. I'd spent the time working on my form, thinking about the LP run course, and getting a good sweat on.

Margit asked me as she was leaving if I was going to stick to my plan of doing the LP DVD or head outside. It had stopped raining, although it still looked pretty threatening, and the roads were wet. Also, my back wheel is at Zanes so it was going be another ride on the Lightspeed, which is more adventure than I really need- the big ring needs to be replaced if I'm going to ride that bike outside. Since I'm planning to ride the actual course (2 loops) Sunday, I thought it was no big if I spun instead of slogged today.

Then again, the prospect of a 200 mile week (a lot for me) was dangling out there.

It's funny. As a runner, when I was just running (and maybe riding 30 miles a week), I measured everything in miles run. When I started training for triathlons, I left that behind. People ask me all the time- how far did you run just now (often hear this at work, where I run at lunch a lot). My answer is 'I don't know'. I don't map or drive or bike the routes I run, and often on my long runs I change my mind where I'm going during the run- the goal is to run out for half the run, and back for half the run.

I'm the same way on the bike, except that the bike has that damn pesky computer. So while I might ride for 3.5 hours, I want to to try and get in x miles and when I'm done I know I got in x (or y) miles. I still make the routes up as I go along and I have no clue how far point a to point b is (it's sad really, how little I work at all this), but at the end, I know the result. Add in a decent memory, above average math skills, and at the end of the week I certainly know how far I rode.

Of course, the right side of my brain- the same side that keeps track of how far I rode, I guess- knows that number is so meaningless.

An hour in, I considered stopping the DVD and heading out on the Lightspeed. Which is kind of silly. The first hour is out of town and around to Jay, or in other words, the easiest part of the ride, and the part of the workout where the advice consists of 'keep it easy.' And the point of going easy is so that you aren't gassed when things get hard. Still, I could easily have headed out and got in 50 miles.

I did hop off and grab a bottle of water to replace the gatorade I'd drank, but hopped right back on and kept going.

I had the same internal debate in the back ground for the next 30 minutes or so, even though there's still a part of my left eye socket that hurts if I press on it. However, I decided that this had been the plan from yesterday and I was sticking with it.

And spin instead of ride outside, I was still glad I did it. When the DVD was over I did unhook the Lightspeed and ride it outside for about 40 minutes.

It's kind of silly after having a good treadmill workout where I felt it definitely beat going outside that I really wasn't comfortable making the same decision with the bike workout. But even a June, a good trainer workout is still a good workout.

Lake Placid, Virtually Yours

Let me preference the rest of what I'm going to say by saying that there is no substitute for actually riding the IM Lake Placid course. The more times you can fit it in to your training, the better, and better still, attend a camp, like the one my coach Eric holds in June. If you don't get a chance to ride IM Florida's course ahead of the race, well, you probably haven't missed anything. But the Lake Placid course requires experience- the screaming descent towards Keene, the need to hold back for the first 40 miles (or is that 60 ?), the brutality of ride back along the river.

There's also no substitute for camp. I know where what confidence on the bike I have really developed- camp.

And hopefully Eric will have some videos of his own soon...

Because it was raining today, I decided to use the Spinervals Lake Placid Virtual Reality DVD as the basis for my 3.5 to 4 hour ride. Although Eric would rather I was either on the road or doing something else on the trainer, he's pretty good about when I decide to go the Spinervals route.

I've had this plan in my back pocket, sort of the Opera House of my Lake Placid training. I'm probably not going to get up there ahead of the race, which is OK. I've been there. I have the course pretty well in my memory- I learned how to check my fear of being on such a small bike on those downhills. But I still wanted to see the course, feel it. I have some questions about my nutrition.

So I climbed on the bike, started out. This is a great training ride. Maybe it's not quite as precise as riding the course on a compu-trainer, but there I was, my heart rate barely in three digits as I started- and Coach Troy telling me to keep it easy, stay moderated. Truer words have never been spoken. There probably aren't too many IM races where you can completely frak yourself in the first ten miles of the bike. Which are not easy. Before you get to the really big downhills, there are rollers and some climbing and you can fry yourself pretty good, pretty quickly.

The other thing about the course besides the need to really know it, is how unbelievably beautiful it is. I'm from upstate New York, and I mean really upstate, outside Albany. In the summer, LP is stunning. I'm reminded of the rides I used to take when I was in high school and summers in college- on my 3 speed (I once rode it from Albany to Rochester).

The DVD really pushes you to be smart. Keen to Jay- you have to ride this part of the course smart- again, it's about moderation, about intelligence expenditure, staying aerobic, working your nutrition. Get there with at least half a tank of gas and you've got a chance, then the fun begins- one of the harder climbs, more rollers, and finally- that out and back.

Here's where the DVD really either passes or fails. The out and back is hard. People really lose sight of this. It's hard going out. It's harder going back. The DVD completely captures that. I got to the turn-around on the out and back and bam, it hit me. Suddenly, this was getting hard. It really captured the nature of the ride. This was my second time doing the whole DVD and each time I've had trouble convincing myself I was applying myself enough- until this point, when it all comes home.

I was also struggling with the question I always have when drinking gatorade- Cliff Blocks every 30 or every 40 minutes ? Today, it should have been forty, and with the way I was sweating, I should have been using electrolytes as well.

And that last hour ? The best hour of the DVD. you feel like you are climbing up the big hill on the out and back and you certainly feel like you're climbing the cherries and the bears. When you finally turn back towards the town, you are relieved- in a big way.

I started the video up again and rode back down to to Keene, because Eric has told me that is when my race really starts, after I get into Keene a second time. Also, that gave me 3:40 on the bike. Energized (and having fixed the nutrition issue by substituting water for a gatorade after starting to bloat), I hopped on the treadmill and got a good IM pace run in.

The bottom line- I recommend this video to anyone who can't get up (or down or over) to Lake Placid to train. The more you know the course, the better off you are.

Egg Hunt, or on Being a Parent

I don't usually delve too far into my personal life here in this blog (are anywhere else for that matter ?), but today a completely off-topic event reminded me of a 5K, so here I am, writing about it.

I'm not your typical parent- at 42, pushing 43 pretty hard, my son is just 3 years old, and we have only a few friends with young (or any) kids, and I would not say those are friends we spend much time with. I'm not exactly tapped into the kid nation either. I had sort of an odd childhood in that my parents were even older than I am compared to my son and I'm not sure they were dialed all the way in either, although they tried pretty damn hard and on scant resources. As a result, there's an awful lot I don't know about what is typical family activity.

Take the egg hunt. Branford sponsors a town-wide egg hunt and this is a pretty well-attended event. My wife was swimming out in New London until 9AM, and really wanted me to go to the egg hunt. For this and other reasons I was left with getting my workout (and shower) in between 9 AM and 10:40 AM. I went long on the bike yesterday (in my basement) and in honor of the EH crew being out in Arizona, did another part of the virtual reality Arizona DVD from Coach Troy- the Mt. Lemmon climb (yesterday was Gates Pass). If you really want to work your backside off on the trainer, get this DVD. If half an hour straight in Big Ring 13 is not to your taste, then this is not the DVD for you (or you're not working hard enough, pal). There's the workout related, on-topic part of the blog.

At 10:30 I was in the shower, and at 10:40 we were in the car for a 5-10 minute drive. This was still probably a little bit too late to leave the house. We pulled down the side-road to Foote Park wedged between minvans and Jeeps, grabbed one of the last parking spaces in the park, and headed over to the start. We ran into a number of Ian's friends from school- children that had been in his pre-school class at day care until recently when he moved up. We happily settled into line with them and snapped some pix as the VFW volunteers waited for everyone to get into place for the 'hunt.'

Now, as hunting goes, this is a step above hunting with Dick Cheney (how a guy shoots you in the face when the birds he's supposed to be shooting are basically stationary until the moment of they are flushed and he knows where the birds are going to be, in other words in the air, not at ground level, in other words, accident my ass), but a step below English foxhunts. The 'eggs', hundreds of them along with store-bought candy bars, are laid out on a relatively flat patch of grass in corrals, divided into different age-groups. Meanwhile, the Eastern bunny was roaming around- costume perfect except for some pretty beat-looking basketball shoes that kind of ruined the illusion for me.

The problem was that Ian, standing with his friends, was in the 1-2 corral. We moved over to the 3-5 corral and I smelled trouble. First of all, we couldn't even get to the line, second, their was a slew of parents blocking the way and hovering over their kids. The VFW crew announced that parents could follow their kids. I determined not to do that, but wow.

The whistle went off and I finally knew what it was like to be on the wrong end of a 5K. The locust went up the grass and with the machine efficiency of terminators, they eliminated every egg, every piece of candy, every wrapper. It was a horde lurching up over the Urals, while I watched it retreat away from me. Even the grass browned under the press. Ian got a decent amount of candy, but was not exactly the high earner.

He happily scooted over into the 1-2 corral, where he had half the area to himself and filled his basket without depriving anyone else of their candy.

Man, being a parent is weird.

In Review- The Year that Almost Was

Well, I know it's New Year's Eve because I'm once again reviewing the wreckage of my Fantasy Football team as we head to the playoffs and the inevitability someone else will win the league I've run for 13 years.

I decided to take on some new challenges in 2007. Of course, the unspoken challenge is continuing to be an older first-time dad, something that is not always the easiest thing. It's ironic in a way, because my own adoptive parents entered the game late- my dad was 48 and my mom 46 when I was born, even older than I was. Hopefully, I'll see more than 10 of Ian's birthdays- number 3 is hard around the bend less than a month after Christmas. Potty training is coming too.

The year started off slowly, with graduate courses and slow, easy training. There was the misery of the diet and the misery of the Plunge on the diet.

With no race on Margit's calendar and Ironman Arizona the first on mine, we had much more important issues on our mind. Like where Margit was going to be working and where Ian was going to be in day care. These big ticket items worked out with a lot less difficulty than we at first thought they might as Margit hit on a temp job at Pfizer and I took over full-time day care transportation duties around January 31st. Around the same time, we came to the difficult conclusion Margit's mom would have to go into a nursing home...

My grades were good, really good, and so was my training. I was ready for Arizona, but at the same time, Lake Placid was weighing on me and I put a lot of pressure on myself. I have to be honest that I never really felt that I deserved the result I got in Lake Placid. I felt like I'd been in the right place at the right time and not really earned what had come the way I might have had to at a race with a better field. At the same time, having passed on Hawaii left me feeling like I had to try and get a spot again. That's not the best way for me to go into a race and one simple mental error- not taking sunscreen before the bike, really impacted my overall performance. It became my worst race, and yet out of, also a learning experience. I both broke and then, in the end, didn't break. Running the last five miles of a race I'd lost the will to continue in was, well something.

And hey, the beer was good.

Oh yeah, and Peter Daly beat me and I posted another second at Brian's two weeks before Arizona.

On a serious note, there was Dave Parcells passing away in Florida and that was- that was a blow for everyone. I can't really express anything other people with more right and eloquence haven't already said. Dave was a great guy. He left a hole.

I didn't take much time off- I'd signed up for Eagleman. I couldn't find time for courses with the afternoon pickup at day care, so there was parenting, day care, work, and training. Margit's mom's situation finally started to settle out, our cat population jumped to six, and of course, by May the lawn had gotten away from us.

I had to drop out of a duathlon in June just a week before Eagleman with a strained calf. That's the first DNF due to injury I'd ever had and so close to an half-IM... Ice solved the problem. I went to Eagleman, had a great swim AND overcame my math meltdown that had me thinking I'd had a miserable swim, survived the drafting on the bike, and posted a pretty good time for being hurt. I even learned to appreciate Avril Lavinge in the porta-potty line, and snapped a great picture of Ian reading a certain coach's catalog that he got a good laugh out of.

I think it was a good summer, although it's always hard to remember the best of the warm lazy summer days when it's 30 degrees. There was plenty of great weather- and oh yeah, an iPhone.

The big event of the summer for me was the Swim Across the Sound. Never in my life have I dreaded anything more (well, except that time I was waiting for Margit to bail me out on her birthday). The thought of being out in a boat, jumping off that boat into 80-100 feet of water. I'd rather be in a pressure suit orbiting the planet. But it worked out great. I wasn't the boat anchor you'd think I was going to be. The harbour made me horribly sick. I was sneezing up man-sized phlegm an hour after I climbed up on the dock. I couldn't breath well enough to sleep for about 48 hours.

John Brennan- thanks again for organizing that. Awesome job.

Margit went from a contract job to full-time at Pfizer. That was a relief but not a perfect solution- but hey, they do have their own triathlon (employees only). Ian switched day care- tough moments there. He still talks about his 'old school'.

While preparing for the Extrememan half-ironman I found myself helping to set up the Madison Triathlon. Steve Surprise and I sat on the 'race committee', we showed up a day early and helped set up transition- I even gave the race day instructions to the athletes and was a bike course marshall.

Then came my third big race of the year, and probably my only chance at winning a triathlon. I didn't get it done, instead coming third. Enough said.

I took that to heart and went on kind of a tear. I placed in the top ten at a half-marathon the next week. Another two weeks and I jumped into a marathon, cracked the three hour mark, slept it off and won a 5k the next day. Then it was Reunion weekend at Rochester and a second place at a dirt duathlon the following Saturday in one of Rochester's kick-ass parks.

My college reunion was a great time and a real reminder of how much I enjoyed the extended stay I had at UR. The only low moment was Richard Lewis at Curb Your Enthusiasm. Man, he just couldn't get it done.

Somewhere amid the races Margit's BMW crashed into a deer and was totalled. Car shopping sure is fun, isn't it ? A throw away call I made to the Acura dealership I bought my car at about a TL I saw on my iPhone while we were at CarMax led to Margit, well, driving a TL. Also, I lost a cat. Jonah, you were a great friend, the one cat I could count on to Bite the Hand That Feeds.

Of course, I over-raced getting ready for Christopher Martin's and put up a miserable race despite running my fastest 5k in years.

But the big story to end the year with was seeing my son have the first Christmas where he understood what was going on. From magic reindeer food and cookies and milk left out on Christmas Eve and sharing the classics- Santa Claus is Coming to Town and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, to opening gifts, he was a great joy. We have some greed issues to work out, and I swear this is the last year I stay up until 1 AM Christmas Eve building a toy, but it was a great day.

Now, 2008- my coach says let's have a great year. I have two IMs on the docket, my family is healthy, I have a roof over my head- so I think that's a great idea.

Eagleman

It's been a while since I posted. After my last post I went to a duathlon, and I hate to write this because of how it sounds, but a duathlon I could and probably would have won. Instead, my left calf locked up 3/4 of a mile into the run and I somewhat shamefacedly dropped out of the race, limped back to transition and worked the first run in and the bike in. Eventually I was able to do a three mile warm-down with a friend at the race.



I did not run after that until Thursday, just three days before the race on Sunday. I went out for a forty-five minute run and confirmed two things. The first was that the calf was in good enough shape to stand up to half-marathon pace on a board flat course. The second was that my right knee was injured.

I'm not someone who talks about aches and pains as an injury- I consider an injury to be something that potentially stops you from racing or training. I'd hit a wicked pothole about a week earlier and my knee had smashed into the stem of my Elite. I forgot about it the next day. Because my calf was so sore, and because I had not been running, when I again noticed the knee felt sore a few days later I'd dismissed the pain a by-product of favouring my bad leg and driving hard on the downstroke of my pedal. For the second time in as many weeks, I was wrong.

I started icing the knee three times a day, and hoped for the best, but what was I really thinking ? I was going to go and complete a half-ironman with a bad knee a week after a few measley calf spasms had knocked me out of a duathlon ?

Yeah, I was thinking that. We got there early enough Saturday for me to shake hands with Coach Troy, get my bike tightened up by the guys from Elite, test ride, swim, and then run. The best part was the swim. I spent more like 20 minutes in the Choptank, swimming out to the first buoy and I felt like it hadn't been 7 weeks since I'd been in the murk of open water. However, I was doing more knuckle-dragging than Tyrol. On Saturday the Choptank was more like the Walk-tank. I got of the water and ran and my knee hurt for 10 out of 10 minutes.




Since there was no refrigerator in the room, icing the knee was out. I put some ironman ointment on it.

Race day- I went down to the race with Steve. I found my bike, which I had racked at about 2 PM, had been moved from where I'd placed it to the opposite side of the rack. I never did figure out why. There was no good reason for it. Call it the Amy Rice effect...

I was able to get in the water about 7 minutes before our wave went off. Avril Lavinge's Girlfriend was kicking around in my head because out the 142 songs on my iPod shuffle I could find that one but I couldn't find Evanescence's Lithium. Try having that crammed in your skull for 4 hours and 39 minutes...

The swim was different than any other race swim that I've had in that I was able to settle in and swim with the same group of guys for the whole 1.2 miles (or however far it was, some of the swimmers seem to think it might have been short). I felt like I was herding people who were not online with the buoys (I had a remarkably straight swim). Until Kenny and some of the other blue caps came roaring over me, I felt pretty good. I even passed a few white caps (men and women 55 and up, who has started 10 minutes before me). I climbed out of the water and saw the clock and my hopes for the day just crashed around me, however. 54:20.

I multiplied that by 2 and was horrified. That would be a 1:48:40 Ironman swim. What had happened ?

I have to admit to not really paying much attention to the wave schedule, and after more than half an hour in the water, I was not thinking about anyone but myself and the people around me I wanted to beat to the mat. About halfway to my bike, I realised that the clock had started well before I'd started swimming. So I subtracted 15 minutes and that left me with 39:20. Not good, as I'd done 37 the other time I'd done the race, but that was slow Ironman pace and to be honest I pretty much swim at the same speed whether it's a sprint or an ironman.

Transition was quick enough. Putting socks on wet feet is always a challenge, and I only crammed one finger in each hole in my gloves, confident I could finish pulling them on with my teeth once I was going. I beat most of the guys I came out of the water with to the bike mat and was off. Eventually I realised I'd started swimming with 20 minutes on the clock and had pounded out a 34:20 swim. Psyche !

At first I was passing a lot of guys in my age group and more than a few guys in their 30s (who had a five minute advantage being a wave behind me). I was feeling good early. My knee initially loosened up and the wind, if there was any, was at my back. I will admit to getting a little annoyed by the drafting. I really lost it when this one overweight 42 year-old who I'd easily passed went by me in a pack of five guys. I sat up, let them go- getting that 'are you all right' look you get from people who draft as they go by and you don't jump on- waited about ten seconds, and then went on a 30 mph sprint that made me feel oh so good (and then maybe not so good). My heart rate must have soared, I was breathing like, well, a sprinter, and I realised that I was being stupid. Here I'd said the previous day that I was just going to go out and have a solid race, that given the fact a week earlier it hurt to walk and also wanting to bounce back from Arizona, I was just going to try and re-establish a positive track. I was angry, and I ride fast when I'm angry, but I was probably 35 miles from the finish.

And of course the same group went by. I asked the overweight guy if he knew the rules and he ignored me, which is exactly what I should have done. I memorized his singlet, because I planned to see him on the run. Don't get mad, just run fast. Then we headed into the wind. I swear, there was wind- I would look to the side of the road and the tall grass was not moving, the leaves on the trees looked painted, but there was wind. I probably lost 3-4 minutes in the wind, but I was determined not to blow myself up in the wind. I'd needed about 1:40 to run the half-marathon last time I'd been here and that was just silly.

Oh yeah. My knee also was hurting. As I continued pushing forward, I didn't feel like I was losing any time- I was at the cadence I wanted to be at. But the pain in the knee, which was below the kneecap, had spread to the outside of the knee, the quadricep and my groin. Ow.

Then I was out of the wind. I was able to pick my cadence up. This was a good thing. While riding into the wind, I was starting to be passed by some fast 30 year olds (I have to say it, in groups of two more often than not). I was also passing exclusively 55 years old plus men and women. This is not as ego-boosting as you might think. I was saying 'You're doing great, keep it up' as I went by them, but where were the other 40 year olds ?

I found them in the last ten miles and started passing them regularly again, but I still kept it steady. I wanted to have a good run.

As I headed in the final stretch, in the last mile, I saw the overweight 42 year-old draft king running out maybe half a mile into the run. I noted where he was, tucked that information away, and headed back into transition. My second transition was really good, about two minutes. I left 4 cliff block shot packs in the back of my singlet. I never touched them...

I looked at the clock, finally knowing exactly where I was in the race, and with a stated time goal of 'under 4:40', I knew I'd have to run under 1:30, which meant being in the sixes. I thought that was going to be hard, and I would have to be patient to do it.

The first mile was good. Yes, the knee hurt and everything around it hurt. But some pain reduces function, and some doesn't, and this didn't. I kept it simple, started passing people that had passed me late in the bike. I caught the draft king before mile three and didn't acknowledge him. I just went by. After that, it was just run, although at about 5 miles, I got passed by a 40 year old who really made me feel a little embarrassed by how well he was running. We caught up in the chute after the race and he actually complimented me, and I told him in no uncertain terms that he was the one who had a great run.

I saw Mark Foster first and he was flying. Joe Whelan came soon after, then Kenny, and a little later, Bill.

The run was uneventful, which was what I wanted. I took endurolytes twice. I stopped eating, and by eating I mean drinking Gatorade, after 8 miles. That was probably too soon, but I had drank well on the bike and eaten lots of blocks. I was still passing people, although a couple of 30 somethings did slip by.

I caught Bill at 12 miles and I could see that he was having a good race and pushing with everything he had. I didn't want to interrupt him, so I just said 'hey, Bill, keep it up.'

Matt and I hooked up soon after that. We ran down another 40 year old, but he was saving something and passed us at about 12.6. Matt wanted to chase him, but I told him I was done, and I appreciated his offer but he should go. The guy was a little too much for either of us, and I was able to get back up to Matt and we did finish together...

Overall, this was not a bad race for me. I was able to come back from something that really aggravated me, overcome probably the worst pain I've raced with (and I'm sure it pales compared to what other people go through) and PR the course. My overall standing was not what I would have liked, but I think this was a good race that kind of puts me back on the road towards where I want to be.