I'm not much a pre-race guy. I like to warm up, get the race out of the way, and then socialise.
I left the house 10 minutes later than I wanted to, so I was about five minutes late to Seaside Park in Bridgeport. I got a good bike warm-up in, but not really enough of a run warm-up and that's no one's fault but mine of course.
I was standing at the starting line with Peter Daly, Charlie Hornak from Force 5 Sports/Athlete's Foot, and two others. One, Taylor- with the enthusiasm of youth (he is, after all, a teenager)- looks at Peter and I and says 'What are you looking to run ?'
This is probably one of the questions I hate the most at a race, regardless of the source. The truth is, I very rarely step up to the line with any idea of what pace I want to run. Why ? I might be good with numbers, but I don't look at races like that. At the Fairfield Half-Marathon, I want to run 6 minute miles, yes, and I need a plan to do that which is more complex than who cares ? At a 5K ? Who knows. I only know myself. I will go out too hard. I will struggle to hang on. One mile might be 5:40, the next might be almost 6:00.
At duathlons you have the added issue of strategy. My coach tells me to 'try and stay up in the mix'. While today's race made me realise that I have to get back to my Brian's work ethic and upgrade the mix (more tempo efforts inside my runs rather than just volume), my plan is actually to evaluate the people around me and run hard but not too hard on the first run. I'm planning to counter-attack on the bike...
I made some crack about running somewhere between 6-8 minutes a mile and then we were off.
It was obviously early that I was not in the A group, Peter, Taylor and a twenty-something being that. I was in the B group. Uh, I was the B group.
I felt a lot like I'd only raced four times all year. I was running ugly, with Charlie not very far behind me and I didn't keep contact with that A group.
What was I thinking as I fell 50 seconds behind Peter- who's just a great guy and a great athlete ? As I fell 35-40 seconds behind the other two 'kids' ?
I was thinking that I had better have one hell of a bike. Oddly enough, even though I felt like I wasn't having a great run, and generally was thinking that lack of sleep (five hours a night) is starting to nip at the edges of my ability, I was still focused on winning. It was my first race on the Elite Razor, and that bike is a fast bike. Whether it goes fast with me straddled on it or not is another matter. But I figured as long as I still had the bike segment in front of me, I had a chance.
I tossed aside my first run shoes, their work down. A spectator, clearly new to duathlon, said 'Oh no, his shoe fell off.' Then I was out of transition. I'd marked the guy in third who'd been in transition 10-15 seconds longer than me and quickly rode him down. That's when I start to feel good, once I've taken out someone. I'm still always paranoid about being overtaken by better riders, but that doesn't happen the way it used to.
It was two extremely flat 5 mile loops on the bike. We got to the 'top' of the loop and I saw Marty's car coming back at me. Peter was riding well, about as well as I was, maybe better. The guy in second was losing ground to him- and me. I did what works for me, what keeps me calm. I concentrated on the next pass and ignored-
Nah- that sounds good, but it would be lying. I never stopped thinking about Peter. I made the pass to take second some time before 4 miles and then just hauled ass. I saw Peter coming back out of the 'lower' turn around. I did something I don't do. I turned my head and took a good long look at where Peter was so I could do the math on how far I was behind. I turned my head back and uttered a very loud 'F@ck'. I did not want to finish second. Peter is, again, a great guy, real nice guy, great athlete. Still didn't want to finish second, not to him or anyone.
Although I busted my ass on the bike, I ended up losing time to Peter. I put about 2:20 and 3:10 on the two other guys that had been in front of me and came into transition second. I had a nice short transition, scooped the gatorade bottle off my bike, and started running like hell. My second run, although 30 seconds slower than the first, was closer to my first run time than everyone in the top finishers except Tyler.
I ran hard, but I ran steady and smooth and my strategy paid off. I had the fourth fastest first run but moved up to third for the second- and adding the second-fastest bike to that was enough to finish second.
But it was the comfortable way that running hard the second run felt that gives me some hope that maybe I am not too far off base right now.
Don't get me wrong. Getting schooled by Peter is not pleasing. He's better, no question, but I think I could have pushed him by staying in the mix on the first run and not finished so far behind. However, I went into the bike fourth and crossed the finish line second, I have a great new bike that I've had a chance to race now, and I had a solid second run that reminded me what I am capable of.
It's time to get it up a gear or two and find my speed.
Marty- you put on an awesome race. Well organised, great course. Do it (or Duit) again next year !
PS Charlie- get some damn 20s on those rims. It wasn't a fat-tire race !
Showing posts with label Marty Schaivone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marty Schaivone. Show all posts
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Duit Duathlon- Part I- Grading the Race
We're trying something new here- providing some format to the race reporting.
Race Importance (to my season)- B
This race has definitely been on my radar since Brian's, which was one of my three A races, but it's a step in the process for me.
Race Course- A
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Only negative? No hills.
Race Organization- A
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing, good food post race, awards and post race occurred right after race ended.
My performance- B+
First run was too slow. Found my grove on the bike. Very good second run. Verdict- did not work hard enough to be ready to suffer on first run.
Race Importance (to my season)- B
This race has definitely been on my radar since Brian's, which was one of my three A races, but it's a step in the process for me.
Race Course- A
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Only negative? No hills.
Race Organization- A
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing, good food post race, awards and post race occurred right after race ended.
My performance- B+
First run was too slow. Found my grove on the bike. Very good second run. Verdict- did not work hard enough to be ready to suffer on first run.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Cow Chip 6K Cross Country Race
I left late for the race, which is often a good think for me when I'm driving. I jacked up the Nickelback and drove from my house to Trumbull in 25 minutes. A good exhilarating drive gets me going in the morning, and this was a nice, safe, but fast ride.
I warmed up with Charlie Hornak, stripped down to my EH gear, and did my strides between the starting line and the goal post- which we are required to pass under. The middle of the football field was pretty muddy, and the mud was about half-frozen. That is a recipe for slipping, so I did quite a few passes at race speed to get my line. I like using picking a line as a warm-up. It keeps me from getting nervous, allows me to do my warm-up, and hopefully gets me off to a good start.
The race started out and it was a typical scrum, some kids that had no business firing out of the blocks at the front, the high school kids that are legitimate working together, and a few older guys like me trying to hang in with the main pack. I was right on the shoulder of the kid I thought looked like the biggest threat. I got the the exact line I wanted- I had to turn my upper body to get my right shoulder clear of the goalpost- basically using it to scrape off anyone that might be trying to take a more inside line to the flags.
It didn't matter. As I turned back, I saw about half a dozen people who had decided that through the goalposts didn't apply to them and had taken a direct line to the first flag, which to me is kind of, well, cheating.
It didn't matter. There was a group of about six of us in the front, and I was the caboose. But the pace felt pretty moderate. Then again, it often does. I can't tell you how many times at half a mile I've been in an A or B group (usually B) and found myself thinking about how pleasant the pace was, only to be dying at a mile and kicking myself. But no, this was hard, but doable. Nobody was pulling away, although the kid I'd marked out of the gate was asserting himself. He had a chance to catch himself some pavement, but I stayed on the grass because it was shorter and the grass was half-frozen. I was able to make it a two man race and we pulled away from the other guys.
I was trying to decide a strategy- I wasn't expecting to be in a two-man race half a mile into the race but I know how rare these chances are for a guy like me and you have to immediately change your mindset and start thinking about winning the race. I wanted to press him, but in a short race, well, if it's a ten-miler, I think you can dog your opponent until they crack. Anything under 5 miles, I don't have the raw mental fortitude to play possum. It's a smarter strategy, but I'd rather be in front and trying to run away than off the shoulder and trying to hold on. I hate that. No matter how well I'm running I feel like I'm barely hanging on.
We traded the lead a few times in the woods, but I never felt like any of the times the kid I was jockeying with was making that terminal pass. I know that feeling- getting passed and knowing it's over, 'it's been nice, but...'
I came out of the woods and decided I wanted to be in first. It's a weakness. It's not just that I want to run my race. I'm not a speed guy. I'm either running from the front or going off the back. And I'd rather be the guy doing the hard work. So I followed Marty on his bike and hauled my ass over the grass. I had a song from Nickelback in my head and I just ran.
Being in the lead is really, really rare for me. It's not easy. One one hand, the foremost thing you have to do is just keep running like nothing's different. You either run your race or you don't. Whether you are first, fifth, or fiftieth, you have to try and maintain a sane pace. That's not to say that maybe you don't go a little harder. But not much.
But it's tough. If you are leading a one-loop road race you follow the pace car and head for the finish line. But this was a first-year cross country course on a course that winds back on itself (plenty of double-headed arrows). Well-marked or not, pace bike in parts and volunteers in others or not, if you make a mistake, so does everyone else. I would HATE to screw up one of Marty's races with some kind of half-brained wrong turn.
The sun was out, there was no one in front of me, and I was trying to run my widest stride. I was running well, I was running cross-country.
I would have loved to have been able to just relax. Nickelback's If Today Was Your Last Day was in my head. I couldn't relax. I just kept plowing along, never looking back. Through the woods, around the fence, and back towards the barn.
Marty says 'Jump the stream.'
I go in full-bore. Jump-schmump. I made a mistake jumping a stream running a race in Stillwater one dark October day when I was 16 years old- and yes, I remember crazy-shit like that- and ever since I go down in, and come back out. Only my foot caught on a root. I took a full header into the ditch.
First rule- your feet never stop moving. Second rule, those things on the end of your wrist- second pair of feet. I grabbed the long grass, hauled myself back to my feet, threw the grass aside, and started running again, glad just not to have been overtaken.
I followed Marty until I realised he was going to ride on top of the hill, but I was headed down.
My feet got really wet as I ran along the stream, but I didn't care. I had to find that last gear and keep moving. Before I knew it I was back in the woods, hauling real ass now, running well.
The rest of the race after the fall was uneventful. I saw I had a chance to break 22, so I worked to the line, and that was it.
Race over. I'd finished before everyone else.
Sweet !
Thanks Marty. And thanks to Mark from Trailheads for the sweet head gear he provided the race winners. I was actually wearing a Trailheads hat during the race, and I got another awesome one today. He's got a lot of great gear, and this is the time of year you need to keep your head warm. He's got a great hat that lets the sweat out and the heat in.
I warmed up with Charlie Hornak, stripped down to my EH gear, and did my strides between the starting line and the goal post- which we are required to pass under. The middle of the football field was pretty muddy, and the mud was about half-frozen. That is a recipe for slipping, so I did quite a few passes at race speed to get my line. I like using picking a line as a warm-up. It keeps me from getting nervous, allows me to do my warm-up, and hopefully gets me off to a good start.
The race started out and it was a typical scrum, some kids that had no business firing out of the blocks at the front, the high school kids that are legitimate working together, and a few older guys like me trying to hang in with the main pack. I was right on the shoulder of the kid I thought looked like the biggest threat. I got the the exact line I wanted- I had to turn my upper body to get my right shoulder clear of the goalpost- basically using it to scrape off anyone that might be trying to take a more inside line to the flags.
It didn't matter. As I turned back, I saw about half a dozen people who had decided that through the goalposts didn't apply to them and had taken a direct line to the first flag, which to me is kind of, well, cheating.
It didn't matter. There was a group of about six of us in the front, and I was the caboose. But the pace felt pretty moderate. Then again, it often does. I can't tell you how many times at half a mile I've been in an A or B group (usually B) and found myself thinking about how pleasant the pace was, only to be dying at a mile and kicking myself. But no, this was hard, but doable. Nobody was pulling away, although the kid I'd marked out of the gate was asserting himself. He had a chance to catch himself some pavement, but I stayed on the grass because it was shorter and the grass was half-frozen. I was able to make it a two man race and we pulled away from the other guys.
I was trying to decide a strategy- I wasn't expecting to be in a two-man race half a mile into the race but I know how rare these chances are for a guy like me and you have to immediately change your mindset and start thinking about winning the race. I wanted to press him, but in a short race, well, if it's a ten-miler, I think you can dog your opponent until they crack. Anything under 5 miles, I don't have the raw mental fortitude to play possum. It's a smarter strategy, but I'd rather be in front and trying to run away than off the shoulder and trying to hold on. I hate that. No matter how well I'm running I feel like I'm barely hanging on.
We traded the lead a few times in the woods, but I never felt like any of the times the kid I was jockeying with was making that terminal pass. I know that feeling- getting passed and knowing it's over, 'it's been nice, but...'
I came out of the woods and decided I wanted to be in first. It's a weakness. It's not just that I want to run my race. I'm not a speed guy. I'm either running from the front or going off the back. And I'd rather be the guy doing the hard work. So I followed Marty on his bike and hauled my ass over the grass. I had a song from Nickelback in my head and I just ran.
Being in the lead is really, really rare for me. It's not easy. One one hand, the foremost thing you have to do is just keep running like nothing's different. You either run your race or you don't. Whether you are first, fifth, or fiftieth, you have to try and maintain a sane pace. That's not to say that maybe you don't go a little harder. But not much.
But it's tough. If you are leading a one-loop road race you follow the pace car and head for the finish line. But this was a first-year cross country course on a course that winds back on itself (plenty of double-headed arrows). Well-marked or not, pace bike in parts and volunteers in others or not, if you make a mistake, so does everyone else. I would HATE to screw up one of Marty's races with some kind of half-brained wrong turn.
The sun was out, there was no one in front of me, and I was trying to run my widest stride. I was running well, I was running cross-country.
I would have loved to have been able to just relax. Nickelback's If Today Was Your Last Day was in my head. I couldn't relax. I just kept plowing along, never looking back. Through the woods, around the fence, and back towards the barn.
Marty says 'Jump the stream.'
I go in full-bore. Jump-schmump. I made a mistake jumping a stream running a race in Stillwater one dark October day when I was 16 years old- and yes, I remember crazy-shit like that- and ever since I go down in, and come back out. Only my foot caught on a root. I took a full header into the ditch.
First rule- your feet never stop moving. Second rule, those things on the end of your wrist- second pair of feet. I grabbed the long grass, hauled myself back to my feet, threw the grass aside, and started running again, glad just not to have been overtaken.
I followed Marty until I realised he was going to ride on top of the hill, but I was headed down.
My feet got really wet as I ran along the stream, but I didn't care. I had to find that last gear and keep moving. Before I knew it I was back in the woods, hauling real ass now, running well.
The rest of the race after the fall was uneventful. I saw I had a chance to break 22, so I worked to the line, and that was it.
Race over. I'd finished before everyone else.
Sweet !
Thanks Marty. And thanks to Mark from Trailheads for the sweet head gear he provided the race winners. I was actually wearing a Trailheads hat during the race, and I got another awesome one today. He's got a lot of great gear, and this is the time of year you need to keep your head warm. He's got a great hat that lets the sweat out and the heat in.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Madd Dash 5 Miler 2008
During warm-up with Charlie Hornak today, my hamstrings were still sore enough (for the first time all week they hurt) that I wasn't sure running the race was a good idea.
Still, I wanted to do this. I've run this race a few times now, it has a great long sleeve t-shirt (I could have had a free number, but paid so I could get the shirt), and I felt ready. Well, maybe not ready, but ready to remind myself what road races are all about.
It's tough to go from an Ironman to a road race. One is this event you pay 550 dollars for and there are people everywhere- volunteers to help you do everything from take off your wetsuit to get sunscreen and the other is a road race that will be over in half an hour.
That said, way more important than how this race was for me is what an awesome job that Marty does with this race. First, there's the course. These are roads I run on all the time and except for the park, I have hassles running on these roads all the time (can you say jail ?). Today, the road was perfectly coned, the police did a superb job, and there was even a water station. All the miles were marked, the results were ready and awards were started less than 90 minutes after the race started, we had two types of subway subs to choose from in addition to Pantera breads and fruit. Marty is a friend, but this is not about making nice for a friend. I've seen the best of Marty's races and I've seen one or two of his races where things have gone bad (not because of him), and this is one of better races he does every year.
The race got off to a fast start. This guy named Matt, who always wears a Colnago headband, really took it out and I was surprised to realise that I was briefly ahead of the race winner, Bart Wasiolek. Of course, there were some kids in front of me.
I haven't run a road race since the New Haven 20K in September. If you know me, let that sink in. I didn't race between August 3rd and September 1st, and I didn't race in October. I'd only run three road races since July 1st.
The race takes a sharp right-hand turn, goes out of the park- watch that gate, boys and girls ! Then it goes uphill. It's not an easy start. Matt- I think his name is Matt- seemed to be building a huge lead- over me, that is, and the guys around me. He was in the mix with two other guys, and so was I. Brian Talon was behind me.
At a mile, Matt went through about 5:20, then started coming back to us. I went through at 5:36. Wow !
I was scrapping. I wanted to get as much distance between me and the field behind me early because I was going to melt down.
We turned again and then we were headed up towards the Yale Bowl again (it would be off to our left as we passed it). Now we were into the wind and it was hard running. I decided to moderate my effort- I was breathing hard into the wind, my upper body was too tight. I was in the fifth and I wanted to finish in 5th now. But Brian, who's a superb runner and getting ready for the Philadelphia Marathon, was behind me.
We finally turned again, after two miles. Bart was running away, there was one guy out of contact, and then Brian, who'd been off my shoulder, finally passed me. He told me to keep contact with the two guys around me and I bounced between fifth and seventh. When we got near the water fountain one of the guys managed to slip his front foot all the way under my right foot and 'kick' it forward. But I'm used to contact and this was not the least bit unsettling because of how hard I run- which is not a good thing.
If I were lighter on my feet, I'd be a lot faster- and I probably would have gone down.
At three miles, I was back in fifth and I was trying just to hold on. We took another turn and I was really, really giving it what I had. I slipped back to sixth, then moved up to fifth and we started to gap- I thought, the guy in seventh. Then we were at the hairpin turn back into the park- I'd watched Brian Talon hurdle his way over the fence here after missing the turn.
At four miles I was at 23:37 and the last mile is downhill. I wanted 5th.
It wasn't happening. I tried, the younger guys tried harder. I did challenge them at about four and a half miles, but they answered.
I hit the chute at 29:22, and then worked to avoid throwing up, which I did. But that meant I had run hard after all- 29 seconds faster than last year- go figure- 7th overall and since Bart won the race they took him out and I 'won' my age group.
My hamstrings hurt even worse on the warm down Brian, Charlie, and I ran- then we hung out. That was as good as the race, all thing considered- at least it hurt less.
Now I'm ready for the Cross Country Championships and Thanksgiving. But I'm still in Ironman mode...
Still, I wanted to do this. I've run this race a few times now, it has a great long sleeve t-shirt (I could have had a free number, but paid so I could get the shirt), and I felt ready. Well, maybe not ready, but ready to remind myself what road races are all about.
It's tough to go from an Ironman to a road race. One is this event you pay 550 dollars for and there are people everywhere- volunteers to help you do everything from take off your wetsuit to get sunscreen and the other is a road race that will be over in half an hour.
That said, way more important than how this race was for me is what an awesome job that Marty does with this race. First, there's the course. These are roads I run on all the time and except for the park, I have hassles running on these roads all the time (can you say jail ?). Today, the road was perfectly coned, the police did a superb job, and there was even a water station. All the miles were marked, the results were ready and awards were started less than 90 minutes after the race started, we had two types of subway subs to choose from in addition to Pantera breads and fruit. Marty is a friend, but this is not about making nice for a friend. I've seen the best of Marty's races and I've seen one or two of his races where things have gone bad (not because of him), and this is one of better races he does every year.
The race got off to a fast start. This guy named Matt, who always wears a Colnago headband, really took it out and I was surprised to realise that I was briefly ahead of the race winner, Bart Wasiolek. Of course, there were some kids in front of me.
I haven't run a road race since the New Haven 20K in September. If you know me, let that sink in. I didn't race between August 3rd and September 1st, and I didn't race in October. I'd only run three road races since July 1st.
The race takes a sharp right-hand turn, goes out of the park- watch that gate, boys and girls ! Then it goes uphill. It's not an easy start. Matt- I think his name is Matt- seemed to be building a huge lead- over me, that is, and the guys around me. He was in the mix with two other guys, and so was I. Brian Talon was behind me.
At a mile, Matt went through about 5:20, then started coming back to us. I went through at 5:36. Wow !
I was scrapping. I wanted to get as much distance between me and the field behind me early because I was going to melt down.
We turned again and then we were headed up towards the Yale Bowl again (it would be off to our left as we passed it). Now we were into the wind and it was hard running. I decided to moderate my effort- I was breathing hard into the wind, my upper body was too tight. I was in the fifth and I wanted to finish in 5th now. But Brian, who's a superb runner and getting ready for the Philadelphia Marathon, was behind me.
We finally turned again, after two miles. Bart was running away, there was one guy out of contact, and then Brian, who'd been off my shoulder, finally passed me. He told me to keep contact with the two guys around me and I bounced between fifth and seventh. When we got near the water fountain one of the guys managed to slip his front foot all the way under my right foot and 'kick' it forward. But I'm used to contact and this was not the least bit unsettling because of how hard I run- which is not a good thing.
If I were lighter on my feet, I'd be a lot faster- and I probably would have gone down.
At three miles, I was back in fifth and I was trying just to hold on. We took another turn and I was really, really giving it what I had. I slipped back to sixth, then moved up to fifth and we started to gap- I thought, the guy in seventh. Then we were at the hairpin turn back into the park- I'd watched Brian Talon hurdle his way over the fence here after missing the turn.
At four miles I was at 23:37 and the last mile is downhill. I wanted 5th.
It wasn't happening. I tried, the younger guys tried harder. I did challenge them at about four and a half miles, but they answered.
I hit the chute at 29:22, and then worked to avoid throwing up, which I did. But that meant I had run hard after all- 29 seconds faster than last year- go figure- 7th overall and since Bart won the race they took him out and I 'won' my age group.
My hamstrings hurt even worse on the warm down Brian, Charlie, and I ran- then we hung out. That was as good as the race, all thing considered- at least it hurt less.
Now I'm ready for the Cross Country Championships and Thanksgiving. But I'm still in Ironman mode...
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