Kick It Duathlon- April Race report

Sometimes a word can sum up a race.

Mud.

That sums it up pretty well. Michael D'Addetta and I had decided to do the race and despite the rain and the lack of warmth. We'd talked about waiting to decide to see if it was going to be nasty, on the idea that we wouldn't go if it was.

And we each drove there anyway. Michael earlier than me thankfully, as I got lost on the way there.

It was a mess. I ran some of the bike course as a warm-up and it was wet and muddy. I had no idea how wet and how muddy, or what I was in for. Not that I would have been able to do anything about it. I was as ready to go as I was going to get, but warmed up would have been an exaggeration...

We lined up for the start on the grass by the pavilion that served as the staging area. It was a two loop run, a mile loop, and there was nothing fancy. There was a little conversation ahead of the start and then we were off. It was still raining, and damned wet as we headed across the grass.

It didn't take long for the first fall, but ironically in a race that was filled with ups and downs and mud and puddles, the fall came on almost the only section of pavement on the course. One guy, wearing a lake placid marathon and half-marathon t-shirt, had gone off like a bomb at the starting line, running like he could win the race in the first few hundred yards. He roared down the pavement, which was a sharp downhill. At the bottom was a 90-degree right-hand turn. He successfully completed 0 degrees of the turn and went down.

He scrambled back up and was right back in the mix. In fact, I admired his attitude, which was 'did you see that ? I really took a fall, huh ?' In fact, it was a little too much in the excited vein. He was bleeding, but nothing too severe. I was in third place pretty quickly, and running very steady, so I started to move up, finally passing everyone and getting to the front. I went back by the pavilion in first and opened the lead up, running steady, but not too hard.

While I'd tried to stay on dry ground the first loop, I gave up the second loop and just went through puddles with no concern.

I got back to my my bike, jumped on, and worked my ass up the first hill, which was not too steep to force me to get off. It was quite a little climb but then you went down and around, over some planks covering a stream, and back to a bigger hill.

This hill was not worth climbing on a mountain bike with fat tires. It was so slick that any attempt to climb with authority immediately rewarded you with wheel slip, so I leapt off the bike and ran up the hill. I climbed back on and hopped back on the bike, still in first. The wooded section dumped you out on a long wide 'trail' that was rutted from some (past?) life as a vehicle road. I'd lost first place coming out onto here, and as the guy went by me on an Allez with drop handlebars and skinny grey tires. It would be charitable to even call it a cyclocross bike. It was a bike with 25s for tires, nowhere near fat.

This part of the course was an out and back and after the guy that had passed me got to the turn he went back the other way, he asked me if he'd got the turn right. I was tempted to say no, but of course I said yes. I was really struggling. The trail was basically packed mud, wet mud, and puddles, with a lot of skull-sized rocks mixed in just to make sure maintaining a straight line was impossible. I was losing ground fast to this guy. As I went by one of the two race directors I said 'Hey, they let someone on a cyclocross bike onto the course.' I was trying to be cavalier about it but let's face it. I went out on the bike course in first and now I wasn't. Grrr.

After we left this track, the really technical section of the course started. It was a sharp downhill, a 90 degree turn, uphill, another sharp downhill.

Og course, you can never lock your wheels on the trails. The split second you lock a wheel it takes a sideways vector. So I was going too fast and hit a root with my front wheel. the wheel turned sideways, and eventually completely backwards, knocking my front derailleur out of service. I went right over the handbars, landed on my right arm and shoulder and hip. I saw rocks- more skull-sized rocks- all around me, but I hit nothing but dirt. I scrambled back onto the bike again and I was still in second.

Before I knew it I was on the second lap. I climbed the first hill out of transition and got to the top and my heart rate from the climb was somewhere it hasn't been in- who knows ? What I do know is that as I keep moving I started to think I was going to throw upThat never happens during a race. I got back to the hill you have to run up (one of two actually, the second being right after where I fell) and I ran up it. I was slipping even on foot.

The guy on the cyclocross bike- yes, the application said 'fat tire'- was kicking my ass. He hit the turn around on the out and back way before I did. I had two guys breathing down on me and this was enough to get me to stop trying to find dry ground to ride on and go right through the puddles.

I was in third when we got to the back section and as we went at one of the big downhills I did something I never do. I told the guy in fourth right behind me to go around on the left.

Trust me, it wasn't altruism. I calculated the odds- what would happen if I went down and he went into me, how much time would I instead lose by letting him by. The truth is, he and the guy right in front of me in second I wasn't worried about. I had beat them both on the first run, and I would beat them on the second run.

I told him to go around left and he went around left. I did not fall on the downhill that had claimed me as a victim the first time. I then climbed the resulting uphill on foot while they rode it. They didn't pick up any time on me.

They were leaving transition together when I got into it. I used toe clips in the race, so it was easy out and I started to close on the pair. The leader was nowhere to be found. We went down around the killer turn that had eaten the race's first leader and I quickly passed the pair, exchanging pleasantries and moving into second. For the second straight duathlon, I ran really well on my second run. The guys I passed were gapped right away. The race leader was nowhere to be seen.

I continued to pick the run up, came through the back section, passed a volunteer at a 90 degree right hand turn saying to be careful as people had fallen down. I mad e it through, finished the loop and was out on my second. I was spent, but I ran hard, plowing through puddles and mud- it was not an easy run. The ground was soft in lots of places, there was mud in most places. Every step that was not on pavement was hard. But I felt good and before I knew it, I was on final approach. The same guy was at the corner warning me to watch the turn.

He also told me I was in fourth. 4th ? WTF ?

I was in second. I crossed the line and I did go right to the race director and ask about the bike. She said it was a mistake that the race winner had been allowed to race on it. It would turn out the only award was for the male and female race winner.

Oh well. I didn't give her grief. I just pointed out it was the only cyclo-cross bike in the race. She agreed. I wasn't asking her to do anything, and I didn't push it. I even said 'Hey, he still beat me.' But...

I waited for Michael D'Addetta to finish, then I hosed off my bike, changed my clothes, talked to the guys that finished 3rd (lake placid half-marathon/big fall guy) and 4th, and headed home.

Let's face it. I am not a mountain bike rider. I know that. But I had fun, I finished second, and I raced really hard on a crappy cold and rainy day. Normally a race does not replace a long run, but this one was much better.

I'm glad I went, and hopefully I can go back again some time.

Du It Duathlon

Some days you want to race. There may or may not be a race that day, but everything is perfect. You're rested, you're pumped up, the weather is awesome.

This was not one of those days. I'd done a two and a half hour ride/half hour run yesterday, then spent two or three hours on yard work. Because it was a beautiful day. 60s and sunny, a great day to ride, even a decent day to clean up the yard with a handsaw.

When I got up at 5:30 I was actually pretty hopeful. The road was wet, but it wasn't really raining. It was cool, but not really cold. I was thinking that 'hey, this isn't going to be so bad.'

That kind of glass 3/4 full optimism took its first hit about half a mile from the house when it started raining for real. But as Marty said on the race website, just because it's raining at your house doesn't mean it's raining in the park.

Right.

On the highway, at 65mph, of course a steady rain seems like a monsoon. There was no way to talk myself into the idea that I was going to get to Bridgeport and it was going to be nice there.

It wasn't. I dutifully set up my bike, stood in line to get my numbers, and then went back to the car to get as much gear as possible on. However, after warming up it became clear the Asics techical running jacket was going to be one layer too many so I took it off. I'd be racing in my thinnest pain of tights, an underarmour short sleeve under my Hosdka cycling jersey and arm warmers. I offered my jacket to Michael D'Addetta, who was wearing nothing but a singlet and bike shorts and he declined.

Tough, but not the right call as he later admitted.

To Marty's credit he got the race going right about on time, which had seemed impossible at about 7:20.

The course is flat, but it's flat with a kind of steady uphill incline of about half a percent going out (and obviously, half a percent decline coming back).

I've written about this before. The start of every duathlon seems to be the same for me. The run starts and I'm engulfed- I go from starting right in the middle in the front to having 10 or so guys swarm around me. My goal is to run steady, to have two runs very close to each other time-wise. But it's difficult to have so many people running as fast or faster than you at the start of your race and either not get sucked in or panic.

I'd gotten a little panicky at Brian's at the start and let my heart rate get too high. Not today. I actually felt good as we started the first run. Except of course for the number of people in front and around me.

Early on I was 8th or 9th and I was trying to just stay calm and evaluate the people around me. I actually liked most of what I saw, except for two guys, both of whom were running away from the rest of us, one moderately, and the other, significantly. This would be another case for me of misjudging a book by its cover. The guy that was really running away from the rest of us on this first loop had kind of a stocky look and was wearing a cycling jersey with Cannondale on it.

I kind of gave up on winning the race right there. I mean here was this guys who looked totally like a biker, too stocky for a runner, wearing a cycling jersey- and yet he was crushing us. What would happen when this guy got on a bike ?

The majority of the other guys around me were Tri-Fitness guys.

There was a lot of back and forth on the first run, which is an out and back. I was as high up as fourth and back and forth with one Tri-fitiness athlete in particular- Bryan French. He was on me, breathing pretty hard, audible cadence, and I was holding him off in the first half for the most part. After we broke around the cannon and started back, running slightly downhill now, a younger guy went by us and all I could think about was how bright green the outsoles of his running shoes were on the heel. He proceeded to drop us, putting an amazing 30 seconds on us in about 1.5 miles (or so).

Finally, Bryan passed me. I didn't want to pick it up any more. We had about a quarter mile left and I was not interested in picking it up. Not at all. I wanted to get on the bike and blast out of transition.

I settled in and finished a second behind him.

I had a good transition. I did have to abandon the sunglasses I'd worn because they got hung up on the hat I'd had on and I didn't want to waste a few seconds. I got my shoes and helmet on and ran through transition while others were walking. the guy with the lime green outsoles was struggling to change his shoes.

I moved up two or three spots coming out of transition.

The course is flat with a lot of turns. I got out there and I worked on closing down the guy in front of me. I took the turns very aggressively because I'm light, my bike is light and there aren't a lot of crosswalks in the park where you have to worry about sliding on the paint. The first loop was pretty uneventful until the back part. I passed one opponent, but then on the back I started getting pressure form two of the tri-fitness guys. As I rounded the turn to the second loop I had to stay left to avoid people feeding out onto the course- there were actually people just starting the bike after I'd done an entire loop, which is hard to get the math on but...

Someone yelled 'drop your gear' as I went by, standing up to regain my momentum. If this advice was for me it was exactly wrong. I needed to go to an easier gear but I wanted to grind it out to get that speed back up. I was going right through the puddles, not veering like the other riders. Yes, the puddles slowed me down but I was cutting nice straight lines.

As we got to the area where the run turn around was, someone said 'Go left or around the island ?' I thought it was a first looper, so i said nothing. it turned out it was Bryan, who was just about to pass me. He went the long (wrong) way as I followed the arrows on the road, oops. I felt bad, but not too bad.

Especially when Bryan passed me before the turn-around. I did keep him close, but I was unable to reel him back in, however, suddenly I was going past the guy that had crushed us all on the first loop. He was using toe-clips and was on- well, it didn't look like a great bike. The guy that looked like he had to be a biker first was actually a damn good runner and...

I passed him and I'd see him again.

We went into transition in a group and Bryan left first, then me, then Ron Lombardi, the fastest runner.

Do you know the phrase dead legs ? I have never in my life had dead legs like i'd had when I got off my bike. My right shoe went on easy. My left not so much.

When I started running, it was amazing. My legs felt like they were simply not going to respond at all. They did. Dead or not, I found my usual turnover. Within a minute, as I downed a Gu, I was running at my normal pace, my long stride. I was closing on Bryan and holding off Ron. But not for long. I passed Bryan and moved up into second and I fought to hold off Ron but it wasn't happening. He went by me and then started to gap me.

I was running hard. Despite the fact that I was basically having the race I wanted to have, and my second run was close to my first (just about 3 seconds difference between my run 1 time and my run 2 time), I was afraid of being caught.

By Bryan, or the other Tri-Fitness guy, or the guy with the green shoes. I ran the back half of the loop, where I was actually comfortably in third, like three other guys were breathing down my neck, and it was that fear that allowed me to put 37 seconds on the next finisher in a 3 mile span. Really, it was the fear of being caught that pushed me on, that allowed me to actually cut my time on the course by over a minute.

I did learn something in the cold and the rain.

Sometimes fear is good.

I watched my teammates- Dick Korby, Michael D'Addetta (@poycc), and Susan Wines finish- all placing in or winning their age groups- then I put on some warm clothes and enjoyed the feeling of having raced in miserable conditions but come through with reasonable results.

Sometimes that is enough.

The D-Tag: Solves a Problem that Doesn't Exist, Causes More

This is what ChronoTrack says about the D-Tag, after which I will offer my own thoughts. Don't expect them to be particularly balanced. I'm going to say right up front that I don't like the D-tag.

'One of the many goals of the ChronoTrack system is to simplify the timing process for athletes. A disposable tag eliminates the need for several organizational choke points that allow the athletes to spend more time focusing on their competition and less time waiting in lines. Shorter lines before the race to pick up your bib and chip and no line to return your tag or chip afterward are just some of the benefits to the ChronoTrack system.

The D-tag is easy to attach your shoe and is far lighter and less intrusive than other timing tags and chips. Once the D-tag is attached to your shoe, you will quickly forget that it is even there! Instructions for attaching the D-Tag to your shoe are available here.'

I ran a race on Memorial Day that used the D-Tag and the first thing I'll say is this- I'm glad Ken Platt was timing the race. Ken was able to deal with the people, starting with the 5th place finisher, whose time wasn't recorded because the D-tag didn't survive the 10K.



That's the less intrusive than other tags and chips D-Tag. This right here demonstrates the biggest problem with the D-Tag. Let's face it, the bulk of timed racing is road races- running. And the D-Tag was designed by people who think every chip will be attached to a sneaker.

Well not exactly: 'What if I don’t have laces?
The D-tag can also be used by attaching it to your ankle with a Velcro strap. The tag should still be formed to make a “D” shape and then attached with the Velcro.'

Picture the above tag attached to the side of your ankle with velcro.

As I'll get into later, the tag is very fragile. And it need to be attached to your shoe very carefully using the 8 step process in the linked PDF above. Yes, I'm serious, 8 steps. Check the PDF. There are no filler steps. You have to separate perferations, crease this fold back that, adhere the other thing- and if the tag gets out of it's 'D' shape it probably won't work. So that means you can't use the tag for open-water swims, aqualons, duathlons, or triathlons- unless you're planning on wearing your sneakers on the swim and we're all moving back to toe clips- oh wait, you can't bend the d-tag...

I certainly wouldn't recommend running a trail race with this loop on your shoe either.

Then there's the disposable issue. I heard mention of the tags being recyclable, but good luck separating the metal electronics from the plastic. Chronotrack themselves calls it disposable. So we're replacing a system that has permanent, re-usable chips with disposable chips. That means thrown-away. More plastic and metal for our landfills or to be burned for electricity.

Let's talk about organization choke points.


Theoretically, you could purchase numbers with d-tags attached to them. However, the race I ran Monday had the traditional station where you got your number, and then a second station where you got your D-Tag. Organizational choke point one- not eliminated.

The second choke point is huge, and I understand why the D-Tag is a draw for race directors at big races, because that second choke point is the finish line. I'm on the board of directors of the New Haven Road Race and every year I hear the same complaints about handing out and collecting the chips, how a certain percentage of chips don't get returned, and these are valid complaints. For road race directors who have thousands of athletes, think big city marathons and races like New Haven, the idea that the d-tag goes in the trash and is never heard from again is tremendous.

I'm not a race director, however. I'm an athlete, and one thing I'll say is this, I never sit in those board meetings and hear a lot of complaining about how many chips malfunctioned. More on that in a moment.

But the point is, there was still a white bucket at the finish line and several volunteers ready to cut the tags off with scissors. That's right, we have volunteers in the finish chute with scissors cutting the tags off and putting them in the white bucket. In fact, ChronoTrack says that the D-Tag has a 'special adhesive to ensure its durability'. Read, has to be cut off. Choke point- not eliminated.

Back to the functionality. I don't know much about much and I'm sure some 4th grader out there can refute each and every point in this post, but I have run a lot of races. I've run chip-times races in two countries and dozens of states, and with the exception of one Connecticut timing company who I won't mention that has never gotten a race I was at right- so you know it's not Ken Platt, who always gets it right- the chips just work. I had never once had my chip (the one I own) or any other chip malfunction.

At the race I was at, the 5th place runner's D-tag didn't register. Margit's didn't. And so many others didn't that Ken had to post a notice on the results seen here. 'Can I flatten and tuck the whole D-tag in my laces to make sure it stays? No. This can cause damage to the D-tag and also lowers the performance of the D-tag. For optimal performance, the D-tag must be attached to the shoe in the proper manner. For instructions on properly using the D-tag please click here.'

Yes, the 'less-intrusive' D-tag... so many runners want to tuck this 'less intrusive' tag under their laces because it's way more intrusive than a real chip on a strap around your ankle..

In a corral with 2000 other runners and one of them steps on your foot ? The D-Tag will probably break. Tuck it under your laces- it will break or not register. Loop shifts so that it's inverted ? May or may not read. Given the number of tags that failed, it's unquestionable that the tag is much more fragile that it ought to be.

The bottom line on the D-tag is this: it is marginally easier for race directors because they don't have to give out and intake chips. It's better for the timer because they don't have to sort the chips.

But it's worse for the timing companies because now they have to maintain multiple timing systems (or time only road races). It's definitely more prone to failure. It replaces a green technology (in short, a reusable chip) with a disposable one. And it's a less comfortable timing device.

I don't blame the timing companies for adopting this technology. Race directors want easier options. Chips are hard to manage at large races, and race timers need to provide directors what they want. But I do blame Chronotrack for promoting a fragile timing device and making a lot of claims that, as an athlete, I don't see are true, especially the ones that claim the D-tag is somehow better than the chip...

Grading the Rochester Spring Duathlon

I'm going to try to continue to provide some format to the race reporting and I'm behind, so here goes:

Race Importance (to my season)- A-
There was only three races on my schedule this year that are A races, but you don't travel five and an half hours just to fart around either. I wanted a top three performance here.

Race Course- A+
This was a great course. The runs were closed to traffic and easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. The bike was basically a series of right hand turns on a very rolling and fair course. And the park is awesome. The whole setting was beautiful.

Race Organization- A
Extremely well-organised with a great transition area. Race started on time, course was clearly marked, there were a ton of volunteers and the awards were timely .

My performance- B+
First run was too slow. Found my grove on the bike. Second run was not hard enough. Good second bike. Iffy second run. Verdict- managed 3rd, maybe could have been second. Must push myself harder.

Rochester Spring Classic Duathlon

I wanted to do something different than the Shamrock Duathlon. It's been a good race for me, but I really wanted to go back to Rochester and race. I like the challenge of racing against different people that I sort of know- from other races up there, from Lake Placid.

The people in Rochester are fast. Scary fast when you think about how much better our weather is than theirs. Yes, that's right. The winter we just had ? They'd have spent January and February wondering if winter was ever coming.

I like the format of the race as well. It's a run-bike-run-bike-run- 2-10-1-10-2. Definitely a biker's race- 5 miles of running to 20 miles of rolling hills on the bike. And the people that run the race- Fleet Feet of Rochester- put on a good race. the runs are completely in the park, and the bike is basically a square.

We got to the race a little late but not bad, and I took a position near the run exit, which will unpopular with the early rack adopters, I thought would give me a nice tactical advantage.

I kept my warm-up to strides in the opening section of the run course and before you knew it, we were off.

Panic quickly set in. We were running downhill, pretty hard, and there I was, in 7th-8th place, lot of guys around me. I'd started right next to the guy that was going to win the race, and he was gone. I think if it's possible to win a race that's 85 minutes long in 30 seconds, he probably did. I forced the panic back. This is the reality of the way I race duathlons. I do not put a lot in the first run.

The run was two miles, almost all of it on grass or in the woods. I found my place, established myself in about 7th place and settled. The panic was replaced a feeling that I was running well, at about 95%, not spending myself until we hit a switchback hill that doesn't look like much but is just a killer. I felt like I was crawling up it, and at the top there's a quad-fraking downhill, another uphill, and then you cruise into transition.

I was up to fourth or fifth because I had a quick transition. I attacked and passed one athlete I should have marked but didn't, and then went after the guys in front of me. I was too far back, and I knew I had to ride a little aggressively to get back where I wanted to be. I couldn't make much up until we'd turned out of the park and finished the first downhill. As soon as we started a real climb I worked my way back into the place I wanted to be, second. I screamed down the biggest hill on the course, happy to see the hard right was not so hard, and attacked through into another uphill. As in my last duathlon. I was chasing the leader, and that was where I wanted to be.

Then I was passed by a school bus right before one right turn and the volunteers at the corner didn't stop the bus. I found myself fighting through the turn, bike versus school bus. I decided discretion was the better part of not getting my ass kicked by a school bus.

Not much else exciting happened. But the guy I should have marked was tailing me the whole way and came into and out of transition with me. As we ran out, he asked me how I was doing, very conversationally.

This is not a good idea. I am from the late 1970s, early 1980s. I come from a ball-sport back ground. I was taught to knock people down and walk away from them. Yes, this makes me an anti-social caveman. I'm OK with that. I can be nice before, or better yet, after the race, During the race ? If you aren't hurt, you are not on that radar.

Bad alan.

So he asked a second time. Somewhat, incredulous, I said I was fine and added, half-aloud, 'I just don't want to talk.' I had trouble staying with the guy on the second run, and he put a little time on me, but I took it back in transition and got out first on the bike. Several of the guys behind me came close to striking distance on that run as well.

He passed me pretty quickly. I road hard, and I had a good second loop, but I couldn't close the gap he built up in the first two miles or so. My descending on the Razor still needs work.

I came into the final transition stuck in third. I ran as hard as I could and I could see the second place guy on and off the whole time, and I closed, but not enough, and in the end, I crossed the finish line 23 seconds behind him, well-spent, and in the state I too often am, disappointed at what was overall a pretty good effort.

The race winner, Marcus Gage, hung out in transition and had nice things that I at least didn't deserve to say to us. I don't know him, but he seems like a class guy, and even though he put a major beat down on me, I can't complain. Jim Cornell had a great race as well, and I look forward to going up against him next year- he outraced and I think outsmarted me, and I like a good challenge. Maybe we'll even make it back for the fall race.

It was a lot of fun, and I encourage all of you to try your hand at this formula one format if you haven't already.

And yes, a part of me misses the place I lived 8 years...

Photos from Rochester Spring Classic Duathlon

I posted pictures from the Rochester Spring Classic Duathlon on Flickr:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ironpunk/sets/72157618637010900/

Duit Duathlon- Part II

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 !

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.

Sunday Racing

I'm looking forward to getting in another real race on Sunday- I'll be at Marty Schaivone's Duit Duathon. I believe registration is still open here.

I'm hoping Marty gets a good turn out. I'll miss the Greenwich race- hopefully these two races will be on different weekend next year. I'm also looking forward to racing with some friends, including Charlie Hornak, another Force 5 Sports team member.

Brian's Beachside Boogie

I'd run my warm-up with Charlie Hornak and I was in transition, listening to Snow Patrol and thinking about what Straz had written in his article for Eric's website (read it here) about the role genetics play in endurance and multisport. I'm the guy genetics left behind if you read that, and to an extent, I agree. I'm short, oddly stocky. I think I'm built for reading or maybe physical comedy. Then again, my body recovers from training well, which allows me to train a lot, so what's to complain about ? Since I'm not likely to grow tall or thin in the near future it's best to roll with it.

And mostly, when I'm not reading about sport, I don't think about it except at one time, and I think I've written about this before.

Standing in transition. Looking at all these people who look like athletes, it's intimidating. I'd marked four or five guys in my head that had the right build, the right gear, who'd looked skilled warming up. I had a pedal wrench in my hand. I was looking at these guys and they were scattered around in transition and the common theme was bike shoes, or cleated running shoes.

I'd discussed this with my coach Eric- he knows I prefer toe clips, and John Hirsch, who beat me last year and told me I'd lost time in the woods to him because I didn't have cleats.

So I'm looking at these guys. Tall, thin, genetically gifted looking athletes. With cleats. So I decided. I might be short, maybe a little stocky, but hey, I have an idea about the bike. What if I could combine the 360 degree efficiency of the cleat and bike shoe with the speed in transition and ability to control the bike in the woods with a quick foot down of the toe clips ?

I put the shimano pedal on the right crank. I put my bike shoe on and I tested it. I liked it.

We lined up and Ron Meneo started us off. I believe it was David Booth I was telling after the race about how I hate the start of a duathlon. We ran for the opening in the woods at the end of the short field and I looked over and there was Rafael Martinez next to me. Rafael is a great guy and a super athlete, but probably not someone who is going to run 2 miles under 12 minutes. There were 8 or 9 guys ahead of me as we broke through and this is where the panic tries to set in.

I should be trying to win this race after all. I'm not saying I am good enough to win, but that's what I should be shooting for, a win. We turned the corner and we were running hard into the wind- the hardest part of the run, out in the open, a 15-20 mile an hour wind in our face. I started moving up but there were two guys that clearly were pulling away. Eric had told me to stay up there in the first run, and I was, but I decided those two guys were probably going to get away by 20-30 seconds and that was going to have to be okay.

The first mile was not bad. Things settled down pretty quickly and there were about six or seven of us out in front. The two top guys had not really bolted yet. As we wound our way around the back of the run course, still running into the wind, I started to wonder if I was giving too much ground to those top two guys. But I didn't want to blow out my top gear by cooking the first run because I know that my only chance to win this race involves establishing myself on the bike, which is funny, sort of.

I was hoping I was splitting the difference between not destroying myself and not leaving more time than I could make up between transition and the ride out to Meigs Point.

I came off the first run 5th, with two guys right on me. The single shoe switch went really well and I was out on the bike and chasing.

I got passed- on the right, very early.

I've been either the fastest bike split or first off the bike 3-4 other times besides this year, so being passed was not good. It put a little extra something in my effort to get out to Meigs point. I wanted to get on the road and get into the wind.

That's right, I wanted to get into the wind. My whole goal in this race is to get to Meigs Point in contact with the lead group, then find a way to get out in front and just hammer that section.

Five of us went into the roundabout in pretty close order, but no one was drafting. Don Gustavson, who had a really great race and finished second, was the guy who'd passed me and he was working on getting into a dominant top three position during the bike. We came out of the teardrop and I started my passes. Before I knew it I was in front. I was down on my aerobars on my wife's mountain bike (yes, I'm still riding it), the fat knobs making all kinds of noise, but in a really aero position. I know I'm going to lose time in the woods, so I'm really focused on extending my advantage. But again, without over-extending myself.

I never looked back. I don't. It's a rule. I reached the end of the road section of the ride and got on the biggest hill on the course, a grass roller. My aerobar pads (old-school) are bouncing up and down, the springs long gone. The noise is unbelievable. I crest the hill and I'm still on grass but I'm back in aero position. Next thing I know I'm in real woods and as I get to the end of that, I have two guys bearing down on me, the second and third place guys, Don and Dave.

They pass me. I pass them back and try to use the lines of the course to seal them off behind me. They get by again and Dave starts pulling away although I pass Don again.

The second ride out to Meigs Point is tough. I have to really school myself. I'm behind, I'm not picking up any ground, I have a guy that is basically getting away and yet I know, when we hit the tear drop and then go into the wind, it's going to be me that has the advantage. So I don't push. I just wait.

I'm rewarded for that. I make the pass again with plenty of in the wind on the road riding left and now I'm in the lead on the second loop of the bike and this is what's important. I'm not trying to win the race. I'm trying to make the two guys behind me that seem like the main threat work so hard that when we get off the bikes, I can run, and they will be beat. That's my hope. So I'm going hard, but I'm not going all out- just race pace. I even drink some Heed.

This time the gap in the woods evaporates but only Dave catches me. We jockey a bit, I hold him off longer and use my lead to try and out position him in a pair of turns but in the end he passes me about a 1/4 mile from the transition (?) and gets in first. But I only have one shoe to change so I'm out of transition first.

I start running and a lot of the self-doubt and the worry, the franticness I felt at times when I was not controlling the bike on the back of the two-loops the way I'd like, all left. I had a good stride going and I knew that I'd hit the worst part of the run very early in the run and if I could get through that I would have a huge advantage. I turned the corner and I was running into that harsh wind, back towards the pavilion parking lot but on the road, the same road the turkey trot finishes on and I kept telling myself if I could just get to the right-hand turn, I have a really shot. If I can just get out of the wind.

I eat three cliff shot block pieces as soon as I get out of the wind. I start running on this course I know so well, through the grass, and as the yards click off, I know that I'm in the lead and it might just all be over soon.

I wasn't challenged on the second run. The sun was out, the day was beautiful, and I was running with a lead. Except for when Margit told me with half a mile to go that they were catching up, I was able to run hard- within about 10 seconds of my first run- and never feel any panic.

I crossed the finish line with no reaction, but after I took off my chip with no one looking I raised my fists and pumped them. I really wanted this win. Wanted it for five years since the last time I won.

Don and Dave both had great races and chances are that if Peter Daly's wife hadn't been called into work he'd have repeated as champion, not me. Jean, and Ron and Margit put on a great race that's a lot of fun and deserve a lot of credit for looking at the park and seeing a great duathlon course as well as raising money for a great cause- the Myelin Project.

I learned something too. I have to go back and work on the woods part of the course. I take it for granted that I'm going to lose time in there. But there's no good reason for that. i know the course, I have a bike I'm comfortable with. So that's my goal for next year. Ride that part of the course better.

Still, I'm happy. It was a sweet win, because it's a race I love.

Finding Your Way and the Du It Duathlon

A year ago, if you'd told me that I'd get my season together around the end of September, I'd have doubted it. I'd just dropped out of a duathlon I'd hoped to have a chance to win because of a calf problem and I was staring down Eagleman in a week, with no guarantee I could run. Turned out a little icing solved the calf issue- you'd think after four years as a college coach that would have occurred to me sooner. I was as discouraged as I could have been, although the odd thing is, I'm actually an optimist. After not running for two weeks I not only went to Eagleman and assumed I'd be able to run but PRed the course- although both my times there are among my less impressive long distance races.

So fast forward to this morning. I got off the highway and immediately went the wrong way. Fortunately it was about a minute before I saw Chris Thomas riding to the race- instinct was already telling me to turn around- maybe I was getting something out of my system. I still got to the race about an hour early, registered, checked out my bike with a quick spin and got a spot on the racks where I could actually find my bike.

I was warmed up and ready to go when Marty gave the race instructions. Important note here. I listened to the instructions. The one thing i took away was 'When in doubt, choose right'. All the turns were right hand turns, with the exception of a couple on the run.

OK. I had a gel and cliff blocks in my EH jersey, gatorade on the bike. I was ready to go.

This was another one of these races where I felt buried at the start. People were streaming around me. It was uncomfortable and frustrating- aggravating, really. There was a Bethel guy in front of me and I wasn't sure if it was one I usually beat or get beaten by, although I thought it was the same guy I'd beaten at Greenwich. I was running the pace I wanted to run, so I was trying to shut out all the noise in my head and focus on that.

I did not sort out the field the way I usually do on the first run. I just ran in and focused on having a good transition, which I did- I'm adjusting to using the bike shoes in these races finally.

I took some Gatorade right away and started riding. We'd been told there was no passing in the coned-off area at the start of the riding. The second we exited the cones, I got passed by someone who had actually outrun me as well.

Again, I told myself to let it go. He slowly pulled away, but not far away as he was in sight. And then things started getting strange. We reached a Y intersection with a police officer. There was a LARGE (I mean large) white sign with a big red arrow pointing to the right fork.

The guy ahead of me went left. Confused, I asked the police officer for direction. He pointed right. I went right. I started screaming, while going up hill, because the other road was parallel, but the guy couldn't hear me. I was just wearing myself out, so I stopped screaming. I felt bad for this other guy. If it had been a group ride, I'd have busted my ass to catch him, but going the wrong way- that might only have led more people off course. I felt bad about moving up this way, but I was also busy trying to get my breath back climbing a hill.

I think I had been ready pretty steady, but maybe a little uninspired, and with no rabbit in front of me I just settled in. This was a mistake, and I think, like my first run, I was just a little bit- not much, but a little- having trouble shaking off the training pace. But then another athlete made the race for me. There are several tri clubs in CT and I'm in the one with the fewest people (we're looking for more- all ability levels- join today !). A CT HEAT athlete went by me and made the mistake of being social/nice. He said something like 'Great job', or 'You're doing great.' This was a mistake. I usually say something like 'Keep it up," as it's awkward telling someone you're passing they are doing really well. But It wouldn't have mattered what he'd said. I loathe being passed on the bike, it's an ego shortcoming, I know, but I can't take it, not if it makes me think I'm not working hard enough. Which I wasn't.

I gaged him down the hill, stayed back as required. I came to the conclusion that I just needed to up my cadence to pass him, and that's what I did. I got on top of the gear and started pushing on a flat, opened up a small gap. I never looked back after that, so I'm not sure when (or even really if) I dropped him. But my second five or so mile lap was about two miles an hour faster, and I felt like I was really racing. It was a tremendous difference, and I just want to say thanks to whomever that was for challenging me- it was just what I needed.

When I came back in, it was right behind a pair of more casual-looking athletes who'd obviously missed the repeated instructions about the two-loops on the bike. Why two loops is too much for some people- well, that is just one of those things that happens, I guess.

I had a good second run. I felt really strong heading out, I downed a gel, and when I turned the corner and started up the long uphill, I ran steady. There was a guy in front of me who was not running very well. I passed him and then set my sites on the next guy, who was a long way away and I never did catch.

The bad news was that on the way out on the second run, I saw a significant number of cyclists coming back in on the same road. Problem ? The run and the bike were on opposite sides of the railway parking lot, and there was no, and I mean no, part of the two courses that overlapped. How these people got on the run course, I'll never know. They clearly missed a turn somewhere, and it's amazing they got back at all.

Although my overall time was not great (54:58 ???) for 2-10-2 (and by 2, we mean 2+), and I got beat by one or more people I usually don't get beat by, I actually think this was a good race for me.

Thursday I did a reverse brick- 1 hour hard run, then 60 miles on the bike in under three hours. Friday I did a hard, hilly 68 miles on the bike. Saturday, for an easy day, I ran an hour. Now for all I know, everyone I was racing is also doing an Ironman in July and is on the same training schedule as me, but maybe not. Doesn't matter. The workouts are definitely eating into my racing- and that beats the snot out of the alternative, and what I think my coach would say is my history- my racing interfering with my training.

And when I got kicked in the pants a little bit by another athlete- who was only being nice, no question, whose reward for encouraging me was not appropriate- I responded with a better, more focused effort. That's what I really took out of the race.

Now, I also feel REALLY bad for Marty Schaivone. Marty worked very hard to make this a great race, and through no fault of his quite a few people ended up off course. I'm not going to comment much on that. I'm a big believer that you and only you can prevent navigational errors and you have to know the course. At the same time at least one athlete said a police officer sent them the wrong way. The one person I saw go off course had no excuse I know of, he just missed a sign, arrows in the road, and the general instructions that all the turns were to the right. Regardless, it happened, and the only thing you can say for sure is that it was not Marty's fault. Period.

If you're reading this, Marty, I for one had a great time, it was a great cpurse, and I hope that this doesn't discourage you in any way from doing this again.

I was a little sore going into the race and I'm still sore now. But I feel like a year later, I'm finding my way this season instead of losing it.

Hopefully I'll feel the same way after my afternoon run.

Greenwich Duathlon

Since this blog is actually supposed to be about racing and training, I probably should write a short post about Sunday's race. Obviously, I didn't do that on Sunday.

That's the nice thing about a blog- you can go wherever you want- or not. Why ? Hmmm ...

1) For the second straight race, I lost second place in the last mile of the run.
2) I was not happy.
3) Get over it.

Greenwich is an interesting race. Tod's Point is a great location for this race- it has the three things every duathlon ought to have- good parking, good bathrooms, and good transition- like Brian's, you park literally yards from the transition area. Also like Brian's, it's a very flat run. Unlike Brian's, the 10 mile bike is not flat (and it's not 10 miles).

I had been on the fence about the race until the Wednesday before when I sent my check in, and I drove through the pouring rain on 95 at Long Wharf I was questioning my sanity in not just running for two hours.

But when I got to Greenwich, the mostly drizzle that had met me on the ride down had stopped. I grabbed my number, slung on my headphone and started getting ready. I soon realised that switching back wheels- back to the Zipp that the chain had been installed for- at 10:30 at night was not the right move. I made some adjustments and hoped for the best. I racked the bike and started warming up and pretty soon, it was race time. I was nervous. I hadn't raced in a month (familiar theme this year). I also was racing a duathlon with bike shoes for the first time, well, that I could remember.

The race started with my wave and as we heard 'start' and there was a press of bodies, however, I felt less overwhelmed by how far back I was and by the time we hit the opening turn, things had settled down and I was only six or so places back. I worked my way up into fourth after a mile and decided that I needed to split the field up. I started pushing the leader, or at least I thought I was pushing him, and pretty soon we were alone, with two guys from Bethel cycle closest behind.

I felt like I was coasting, although this might not be true. I knew to pass the guy I was following, I would have to go all out, and that was a bad idea. My best option was to sit back, wait, and hope this guy was not as good on the bike.

We came into transition 1-2 and went out 1-2 and within the first minute, I realised that I wasn't likely to be challenging this guy on the bike. I could see him as we went through Old Greenwich, but he was getting farther away. i could do the math. Meanwhile, Greg Pelican was on my almost immediately and we began some back and forth. That lasted all the way to the biggest hill on the course. I backed off a little on that hill, remembering other years where I charged up the hill and then was flat at the end of the bike, where I frequently got caught, usually by groups of two-three riders.

Greg can eat my lunch on the bike, but I decided I had to keep him close and surprised myself. He never really got out of site, and although I was close to giving up third on the bike, that's where I came in.

By the time I started transition I was in fourth. That was a little dispiriting. As a toe-clip guy I'm usually the one leaping up the ranks in transition.

I headed out and quickly split the two guys in site in front of me. I was about 4 seconds behind Greg and I passed him in the back, but I was working hard and never really found that last gear where I could pull away. As we made the turn back onto the 'main' road, he started to pull away and I found myself losing second place again, just like Brian's.

Greg had a really solid second run, and I never did pull back up to him, although I felt like I gave a better chase effort than last race- he was just too good for me.

I was pretty unhappy. I'd finished third again, thought I was a good two minutes slower than last year...

It's a great race. I wish it were sanctioned, but you can't have everything. I always have friends down there and it's a good early-season chance to catch up with people and find out how they are doing. It's also a good chance to remind yourself how challenging these races are.

And hey, I actually did have a good race after all. But that's not what it's really all about...

Brian's Beachside Boogie Post-Race

http://www.plattsys.com/results/res2008/brian08.htm

First, I want to thank everyone who puts on this race. Despite the fact that the weather never really fully cooperates, the race is a a nice, low-key way to start the season, and it's low-key because of all the all the people who do the hard work and make it possible for the rest of us to just show up and race.

The beginning of a duathlon, especially the season-opener, is a tough thing for me. The same thing happens every time and I swear it seems worse each race, but of course, that's my imagination. The start of a duathlon is about patience. If the beginning of the first run doesn't almost feel too easy, you might just be going too hard. But there seems to be a swarm at the start of the races now. Reflecting on this today, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not only getting older, I am actually, finally, getting smarter.

That's right, the fact that I'm not sitting off the heels of the faster runners in the pack until my ears start to ring is a good thing. But having fourteen or fifteen guys around you at the start of the race kind of gives me that same feeling I get at the start of a triathlon swim. I like then open water, and I like running in small groups. John Hirsch - read his great blog at: http://johnhirsch.org/ - brought some real talent to the race- he's a pro himself. Dom Gillen, an Xterra pro, was off the front with a guy in my age group blistering the rest of us , then there was John and one other runner, and me. Just like that it seemed, as we headed into the trees, the race started to shake out, the swarm was gone, and I could relax, almost even enjoy myself.

Although by a mile or so I was running really- really hard. After all, it's two miles. You can't take it easy, but you also are going hard at 90-95% and that feels hard, but in a good way. You could run harder- it's not that burning 5K pace that leaves you entirely depleted.

I came into transition in the 5 spot, which I'm usually satisfied with if I'm shooting for top three, which I was. I was hoping to hang with John.

The bike is an odd mix- sand out to Meigs Point, nice hard road to the back section, then mostly grass, a short wood, and more sand. Then you do it again and it really gets interesting because you're mixed in with first-loop riders. As John wrote his blog, we traded position in a futile chase of Dom. John is both strong and well-rounded and he's more patient than I am- I knew I had to bear down out on the bike. It was great having someone that good to feed off the effort of, and the two loops went by a lot more quickly than I expected they would. I hardly noticed the wind or the cold. We stormed back into transition with a decent lead over the fourth-place guy, who was nevertheless moving up through the field and having a great bike.

John and I were shoulder to shoulder for the first mile, but then I got to watch a natural athlete open a gap. I kept pushing, but John ran an awesome last mile, never let up, and was there in the chute to say a bunch of nice stuff to me I probably didn't deserve.

It's always a great day when you race, and this is a race I really love...

Brian's Beachside Boogie

Well, the first real race of the season is tomorrow. After spending about two and a half hours prepping parts of the bike course, my legs are a lot more tired than I'd like, but I'm generally ready to race. The field is supposed to be be brutally tough this year, but I'm planning to go out and give it my best, get psyched for duathlon season, and then in May just start living off my base until Lake Placid.

For those of you who know the course, quick note: in the back section of the woods, the corkscrew turn has been eliminated for this year only to avoid a tree. You'll go down a very short decline and then have to hump up over a little hill, so use an easy gear in the woods...

Good luck to everyone tomorrow.

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.

Shamrock Duathlon

These race reports are going to start coming out of order, I guess.

I have to admit to not being especially committed to the race. Oh, I wanted to do it all right. I qualified to compete at worlds last year at this race, and while it was not a qualifier again this year, I wanted to go back and race. By the same token, I'm training for a half-ironman and didn't hold back on my Saturday workout. There was also the feeling that perhaps the best thing for the family as a whole was not me chasing up to Glastonbury on what seemed destined to be a rainy day.

So I didn't put on the race wheels, replace the missing bottle cage, test ride the bike after having the front chain-rings replaced. I did prep the coffee maker, mix my gatorade, and get up at 5 am and drive up to the race, however. I got there all too early. While I got a great parking spot, registration didn't even open for another 15 minutes. They were very, very strict about opening registration at 6:30 am, and strangely, the race started 15 minutes late.

I don't like to spend a lot of time on my bike before a race. I did pump the back tire up a bit, which is also something I hate to do, but I just made sure it was in the right gear and racked it, then went for a 5 minute run. Wearing arm warmers and a cycling jersey, I was too hot. To the south, thunderstorms seemed to threaten, to the north the sun was out. It stayed this way as I listened to Evanescence (it was hard not to stay with the ipod when the DJ was playing a baseball park organ version of the Addams Family Theme Song).

Just before the race I switched to my EH jersey. I stood next to a guy, who, I kid you not, stood with one foot almost completely over the starting line. Baffled yes, but sure I could out run him, I said nothing.

The race started. As usual, I felt as though I was off to a bad start as six or seven guys ran ahead of me and another 4 or 5 surrounded me. Greenwich (my next post) all over again. But Mike Guylay was just 3-4 seconds ahead of me so if anything, I figured I was running too hard. As it's a two loop run the first loop is a feel me out affair, but it quaickly became obvious that I was going to finish the top run at the rear end of the top 5. A friend, Sue Lathan, randomly drove by in her red VW bug, confusing me on the way to her soccer game.

I realised on the second loop that I had a chance to do well in the race. I hung on, passed my wat into fourth, and hit transition in good shape (although the eventual race winner was about two seconds behind me).

I was second out of transition behind Mike, but he had to climb a grassy hill in his bike shoes and then mount going uphill. I ran by him, got on the round, started pedalling without my feet in the cages, and looked up. There was a police car. Why was there a police car ? Oh sh!t, I realised, I was in the lead. That lasted for 3 miles, then the race winner and Mike zoomed by me, 10 seconds apart.

I rode the next 14 miles alone, in fourth, on roads that seemed beaten down and damaged by recent rains, up hills, down hills, struggling, breaking on the endless 90 degree turns because I was in third and wanted to finish. And then, with a mile left, I got passed, but by someone I knew I could drop on the run. I stayed loose, came in, racked my bike, and by the time Mike got his shoes on, I was able to watch his back the whole second run. The first woman zoomed in as I headed out and I thought 'Better ask coach for some bike time'.

For 3.1 miles, I chased Mike and the race leader, and while I put time into both of them, i still finished third. I needed to ride faster and run even harder.

I think I could have won Sunday, but I came third, and that's a pretty good result for a guy like me.

Just don't ask me about the drive home.

Brian's Beachside Boogie, or How to be Second...

Last year Brian's was the only focus race I had before Lake Placid. I've done Brian's four or five years in a row. This year, however, it was an open question if I would race, with it being two weeks before IM Arizona.



Well, it was an open question in that Eric and I hadn't talked about it, and therefore the possibility existed he would say don't do it. I didn't even ask about the 5K run in the same park the day before, which I'd won due to sparse competition both years they'd held it.

It was a nice day for Brian's, which means it was about 50 degrees and sunny. the wind in Hammonassett Park is always present, and always in your face out to Meig's point.

Last year, I lost the race by eight seconds. For the fourth year in a row, I'd been first off the bike, but had nothing to show for it in the end as Mark Hixson outran me in the last two-mile run.



When we ran into each other before the race, I knew what my assignment was- try and put more time into him on the bike than last year, and have a better second run, while not spending too much energy in my first serious race since November.

We went out on the first run and he got away from me but good. He put :51 into me because the guy is a great runner. Still, I wasn't worried. it's a 10 mile bike and I felt I could get over a minute a loop. Which I did. Problem- both of us were behind another great all-around athlete, Peter Daly.

Peter had only put 30 seconds into me on the run. He never came back on the bike. I only saw him a few times because the course is twisty, turny, and woody at times. I saw him once on the run and thought- I can't catch him. I ran as hard as I could, but it wasn't close. I gave up 38 seconds to Peter on the first run and 38 more on the bike and second run, and I came into the finish three seconds off last year's time but much farther back in second.

The race raises money for The Myelin Project, so if you are feeling generous please give the site a visit. Brian's gets its name from a boy who has a de-myelinizing disease named Brian, who is always at the race, cheering us on.

It was still a good start to what is going to be an early season.