Looking back on 2009

I thought I'd post a random list of things I'll remember from 2009:

1. Visiting the Grand Canyon and Sedona with my family
2. Changing my son's daycare and the positive effect that change has had on him
3. Ironman Arizona
4. Winning Brian's Beachside Boogie
5. Dave from Elite Bicycles turning my cracked frame into a new bike
6. Coach Eric's December Strength Challenge
7. Winning my fantasy football league
8. Watching my son mature and develop his own quirky personality
9. Firmman Half-Ironman
10. Sunday runs with Michael, Saturday rides with Force Five Sports

Niantic Bay

I signed up for the Niantic Bay Triathlon, which is going to put me on pace to do as many as 5 triathlons this year, which would be the most in several years

Health Net Triathlon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I was off.

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

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

And more climbing.

Then you climb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's all in the half-days

When I'm not trying to drown myself- if I couldn't laugh at myself, life would be without a lot of its of mirth but as it is plays like an episode of Seinfeld- my workouts right now are, I hate to say this, but they are awesome.

I hoard my time off because I consider it the primary benefit of my job, that and half-days on Friday in the summer. Both Margit and I are professionals with lots of work, and taking long vacations just never seems to happen, so starting in the last week of May I combine a deluge of days off and half days- I had 9 to work with, which give me four days off, six half days, and as long as I avoid Fridays, another four half-days. That's a ton of days off.

I basically use it to do two things- get in shape- which I never am going into that period- and keep the lawn mowed. It gives me a chance to train 3-4 hours a day up to four times in a week.

Yes, this is probably a little unhinged. But it beats getting up at five-thirty to swim and working out every day at lunch and some of the other things I do.

And yet, this Friday, I did something I'm not sure I've ever done on a half-day Friday.

I ran.

I look at all this time as bike time and swimming time. Swimming is usually jammed into my lunches. And the chance to bike for 3 hours does not fall out of the sky like rain.

Rain.

It was 58 and raining Friday when I got home. I got home late, despite my best intentions to get home early- I'd spent half a day at work Thursday, even though I had the whole day off. Go figure...

I was planning on doing the Lake Placid Virtual Reality ride, but by the time I got home, I didn't have time. I didn't want to go outside and ride, and the though of spinning for 90 minutes to two hours- all I had time for, just didn't seem to be a 'big workout', which is always the Friday goal.

So I put on my running shoes, my kit and a technical shirt over than, and went out and ran for about 92 minutes. I negative split my run by about a minute.

I'd done the same 90+ minute run on a sunny mid-sixties Sunday, after an easy 42 mile group ride (140 minutes) and a 20 minute run the day before. On Friday, I did it after a hard 60 mile ride that was under 3 hours and a strong 20+ minute run the day before.

I hit the turnaround for the run 1 second ahead of Sunday. I finished a full minute under the previous run. Then it was time to change my clothes, check my email, buy some fish and some vegetables for dinner, and hit the day care.

Maybe a 90 minute run isn't equivalent to a 60 mile bike ride. Maybe I could have squeezed another 15-20 minutes in.

Who cares ? I went out in the rain and got a great run in and opened up my weekend for more variety in my workouts- I did a two hour time trial on the bike today with a short run afterwards and it felt great, and that was after spending 90 minutes mowing the lawn.

The rain and the chill is something I usually view as the enemy. It's supposed to be sunny and warm all the time now (queue laughter). And yet, it gave me a chance to mix up the routine and relax.

That in turn gave us a change to spend a couple of hours on the Guilford Green today at a Children's Fair, where Ian had a blast. It's great when everything- family, workouts, work-life- all falls into place. Even just one weekend...

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...

Rev 3 Bike Course

For those of you who didn't know it, there's a half-ironman coming to Connecticut in June. If you live in Connecticut, have one or more friends who are triathletes and don't know it, you have probably been in a long-term coma, judging from the amount of conversation it's generated in my circle.

The half-ironman is the Rev 3 triathlon. I'm not sure where Revs 1 and 2 went, but it's being held out of Quassy Park, home of a pair of great races, the Griskus Olympic and Sprint Triathlons. Anyone who's either done the Olympic Race, the Ride for Rick, attending an Eric Hodska camps or just rides in that area- or did the Nutmegman half-ironman last year- has been on these roads.

Routes 6, 63, 61, 64, 254, 118, well, if you want names and numbers, I'm not really your guy. Once I get off route 146 in Guilford, I have no idea where I am, which is why I like a good out and back. But I digress.

So, what's the bike course like ?

Challenging.

It actually starts with a pretty high-octane downhill section on what I guess is 64- right turn out of Quassy, and you start off like you're doing the Griskus Sprint, except instead of looping around the lake, you go straight. This part of the course is fast, at times scary fast (in a pack of 50 people when the road is wet anyway like last Saturday).

However, this early downhill section enforces the one constant of this course. Any downhill work will be punished by equal amounts of climbing.

If you don't want to climb, don't sign up for the race. If you've signed up for the race and you don't like to climb, you have about a week to develop a new attitude about climbing before it'll be too late for you.

The course can best be described as rolling. The overall profile is within that, however, is pretty severe for a rolling course. Many of the climbs are long and relative steep. A few of the downhill sections are a little dicey as well, without great sightlines. None of them are dangerous, however, and except for one left hand-turn past the halfway point that might have you on the breaks at the end of of a nice downhill run, you can probably descend without much break action.

The course is also pretty, and on a nice day, this is going to be a great course- with clear sight lines in many places which will allow you to see your competitors for some distance (or them you).

Riding the course brought back a lot of memories for me- as someone who usually rides alone this is an area I've only ridden in groups.

I would say this biggest challenge of the course is that except for the first 5 miles, you will never have any opportunity to rest for an extended period, so expect to get on the bike and work hard until you get off, while somehow trying to save something for the equally challenging run.

Good luck!

No, I'm not Old (athletically anyway)

That post earlier this month was a placeholder.

It's hard to be an endurance athlete who races and never think about age. You are defined by your age. Every race, you can see it in the results (possibly in more ways than one). In triathlon, they write your age on your body, and no, it's not to make identification easier if something happens.

And I am, let's face it, by the societal conventions, an old man. I'm definitely in the back half of my existence on this planet. If you believe the GPs and podiatrists I've seen, I developed arthritis when I was in my mid-twenties (just a big toe, but still, arthritis ?) I've got parts of my scalp that used to have hair that don't. That hair has migrated to places I have no need for or want of hair. I have the scars and wrinkles and other bang-ups guys my age that have been in sport their whole adult lives wear.

So there's the calendar, and the birth certificate and just this damnable ticking of the clock that never stops. My dad has been dead five years for every one I knew him and those memories are so tenuous I'm not sure they are real anymore.

But, I only admit these things in order to dismiss them. They have nothing to do with my self-perception of my age.

And honestly, I don't think about it that much. Except when I run road races.

That's right. Triathlon is so heavily age-group segmented- even to starting with your age group, not in mass starts- that you don't have the same sense in many races of competing against people a lot younger than you. And then there's the fact that in most races, my age group and the two age groups on either side mine make up the bulk of the men in the race, and also most of the top finishers- and no, I'm not dissing younger triathletes here- we just need more of them.

But road races ? Look at the Shamrock 5K in New Haven. I ran a pretty slow time for me, but not unusual for my first 5K of the season. I finished 18th and got beat by 14 runners under age 25.

That's my competition. Sure, there's a list as long as my arm of guys in their 30s and 40s that can beat me down just as easily. But I'm competing, when I run road races, with guys in their teens and early twenties just as much, and some of them beat me. Heck, some of them are college runners, which almost by default means they can skunk me. Some of them don't- maybe most of them in most races.

The ironic thing about it is that part of that keeps me from feeling old is the fact that I go out and compete with people half my age as well as people my own age, and once the race starts, I'm not 43, I'm not the old guy. I'm just a guy.

And that's a nice feeling. I'm just another guy, who's going to run as hard as he can. I get right on the starting line at just about every race I do, and no, I don't feel old when the race starts. I have that same desire everyone on that line has- to win, or at least give it a good shot.

I may be old, but feel old ? As an athlete ? Not yet.

Back in the Saddle

Because I trained through Lake Placid for Block Island, I started my two weeks of downtime late. Since a 2 hour ride six days after LP, I haven't been on the bike more than about 90 minutes.

I had a 30 minutes- 3 hour - 30 minute brick Saturday. I headed out after the first run with two bottles of gatorade, 4 packs of cliff shot blocks, and a plan. 40 minutes before the first blocks, which would put me at 1:10 into the workout. That was a bad plan but I had only limited food. So was two bottles of gatorade, but that's all I can carry and I hate to stop during my ride.

It was a hard day. Weird win, a much longer workout I was stepping up to, and I kept thinking about the kitten I had to leave behind at the hospital Friday night, turned over to Project Purr because I simply couldn't afford the care for it, which will be provided.

Still, the ride had its moments. I rode well most of the ride, despite my morning fuel being an apple, half a grapefruit, a banana and some coffee and the ride part of the workout starting at noon. On the way back from Madison, about 2:15 into the ride, I found myself riding next to a car with Massachusetts plates, still with no computer- I haven't had one since the ironman, where it shorted out. I looked over and happened to make eye contact with the woman in the passenger seat. She smiled and I asked how fast we were going. She looked at the speedometer and said 32. That was sweet. It was a pretty flat section and I was taking advantage of drafting a line of cars, but still...

I felt like the ride was pretty good, but the last half hour I started to lag. I'd wanted water for the last hour of the ride but just wasn't willing to stop in Hammonassett. I started out on the run and to be honest, I felt like I hadn't done a four hour workout in- well, since the Ironman. I really was not, in my opinion, running all that well.

And about half-way through, I realised something. I put a lot of pressure on myself during the run ofd these long races, especially the Ironman. And I am capable of running a good leg in long races. But the pressure I put on myself doesn't help. I thought about it as I ran into the wind along the water.

There is a difference between feeling bad and running poorly. You can't feel good in an ironman, late in the run. People like me- we're amateurs. Can we have a great race ? Sure. Is it going to feel good ? No. It's not.

I ran up onto my porch at the end of the run, stopped my watch.

The time of my second run was within 10 seconds of the time of the first run. Had it felt slow ? You bet. Did I feel like I was struggling the first half- hell, the first two-thirds ? You bet.

Did I run any slower ? No.

Lesson learned. After all this time.

More Off in My Day Off ?

I had another half-day at work today. I put myself in a hole by leaving late- 12:50PM- for the pool.

I had to shave a few hundred (not much) out of my swim. (off-topiv, they are playing Hand that Feeds during a 3rd period stoppage in Pittsburg-sweet).

Then I hopped in the car, grabbed some cash, went and had my emissions tested, drove home, and rode for 1:45. I got done at 4:59PM, called Zane's to see if they had any 650 tires in, hopped in the car, and headed off to day care.

As I was getting in the car I found myself thinking about how many minutes during my half-day off I'd had to rest, just sit down. Except for the 5 minute wait during the emissions test, the answer was none.

So I considered that. There were two answers- one, my workouts were done at 5PM and there'd be no scrambling to get them done later. Two- I enjoy being on the bike, just like I enjoy having completed my swim workout. Rest ? I can rest later. Who wouldn't rather be on their bike than rest ?

Off Topic- Beer

Anyone who knows me also knows that I like beer. This is not usual for triathletes, and in fact, when you consider I can't really swim, don't know how much my bike weighs, and don't keep or record running splits, I probably am only qualified to be a triathlete by my significant fondness for beer, and my ownership of numerous singlet/bike short kits. And the race tees. Don't forget the 450.00 race tees...

Anyway, onto a subject I typically know a little about, beer. On Saturday, I bought two six packs of beer- including Stoudt's Double IPA bottle-conditioned India Pale Ale info here. If you're reading this blog, you already know that I was racing Sunday, and how I did. So when I cracked open this little gem on at 6 PM on Saturday, I was thinking IPA, not Double IPA. Serious dumb moment on my part. Double IPAs typically start at 7% alcohol and go up from there and I certainly know better.

Stoudt's Double IPA clocks in at an even (and potent) 10%. I was thinking 6-7% tops. It was about 6PM, I was pretty thirsty, and I downed this potent ale quickly. In short order, the beer was gone- and I was buzzed.

I found myself thinking "Oh, man, this is bad, it's late, I want to be sleeping in a few hours and I feel practically drunk..."

It all worked out, but a word to the wise. If you want to have a Stoudt's Double IPAs, have it after your race, not the night before. This is a great 'I just mowed the lawn, now I'm just going to hang out' beer...

Can't Follow My Own Advice ?

Just hours after adding a post to my blog in which I highlighted the importance of not being negative without a good reason on the internet, I registered for a race and I find myself pretty much unable to resist the urge.

I registered for the Shamrock Duathlon last night. Now I know that I was registering at the last minute- just hours before the registration on Active closed (four days before the race). I was taken aback by the 74.00 price tag- so taken aback I very nearly didn't register. 74.00 ? For a duathlon ? That's nearly 1/6 the cost of an Ironman. It would have been 76.00, because the cost of Active's fees were thoughtfully passed on to us, but I am an Active Advantage member...

I am going to bite my tongue/slap my hand and reduce this rant to specifically about this one race and not the general feeling of being repeatedly gouged by HMF. After agreeing to pay what I consider an excessive fee for the race, I was greeted with a message explaining that the race fees don't begin to cover the cost of putting on the race and asking me to donate more.

I was really, really unhappy.

The ironies here are multiple. First, I'm usually the one arguing that (specifically runners) complain too much about race fees. Second, I can think of at least one person- and maybe everyone reading this- saying 'Vote with your checkbook'. if it's too expensive, just stay away. Don't waste blog space on it.

The problem is, this isn't one of the 5-6 5ks that will be held this weekend. There are only a few duathlons in CT all year, and each year I find myself driving 3-5 hours just to get in a duathlon. Duathlons are like triathlons, minus all the stress and most of the getting my ass kicked by people. You can't shop around, and you can't, well, you almost can't punish the race because of the-whatever- of the people holding the race. I want there to be more duathlons, not fewer.

But at the same time, I have to be honest. This race is really overpriced. And if the race director is losing money charging 73.00 a head, then maybe HMF ought to pass the race off to someone else, move the location, do something. I'm sure HMF could explain how that fee is inadequate or barely adequate or whatever the case may be, charity and all that. I'm involved in a duathlon that donates money to charity and we don't have to charge anywhere near that much. I'm also on the board of a national championship road race that agonizes over every two dollar race fee increase and whose fees are, well, I said I would not go there...

So here's what I have to say- go do Marty Schiavone's You Can Du It Duathlon- 45.00 by May 26th. Register at: Hitekracing.com/duit. That's a shameless plug for Marty. But it's another 45.00 duathlon, like Brian's Beachside Boogie.

Sorry to go negative everyone. But 74.00 ? Ouch !

Hammerfest Triathlon- Age Group Blues

Hammerfest typically signifies the end of my triathlon season- except that year that I did Florida- and the transition back to duathlons and running. Not this year. With a half-ironman coming seven days later, Hammerfest was once again a tune-up for a bigger race, in fact a tune-up for a big mysterious adventure, a first time race with some last-minute course modifications thrown in, a small field and a distance I've never raced this late in the season.

The day started early- my son woke up at 4:40 AM. Here I had the luxury of going to a race a few miles from my house that starts at 7:30 AM, and I was up at 4:40...

Breakfast was coffee, a banana and some Red Bull. I got to race, found the sitters for my son- thanks, meneo family, you are awesome- and went looking for my bike, which had been racked earlier. I got in the water around 7:15, got good and warmed up and then waited and tried to decide whether to swim early or walk, as the tide was out.

I took the sucker bet and swam, and regretted it. My wave literally walked away from me and man would I regret that !

I had a good swim- head down all the way, trailing the bulk of my wave but I swam steady and ran up the hill past several fellow red caps. I was on the bike quick and this is my home course, the place I time trial, so it was a good time. Unlike past years, no one was sucking my wheel, no one passed me the entire bike. I went as hard as I could and then wheeled back in and started transition.

My feet were numb. The toes of my left foot wouldn't go in my flats, so I widened the opening and kept trying. Started running on frozen stumps and it took forever to catch the first guy in front of me and then it started to click. I was running well, but near the turn around I saw a balding guy with glasses about 25 seconds ahead of me. i had about three miles to run him down. Last year I missed placing in my age group by 16 seconds. I wanted to do that this year. I tried, or thought I did. In the last mile, I was looking at this guy the whole way.

13 seconds after he finished, I finished. Another 4th place finish...not happy. Not happy at all. 13th overall ? Nice, but not what I hoped for.

That said, it's a great race, you can't pass up racing in your backyard, can you ? It's for a great cause, the race is a lot of fun, what more could you want ? How important can an embroidered towel really be ?

Park City Olympic

There's probably no distance I'm less qualified to race than the Olympic distance- 3/4 the distance of an half-ironman swim, but less than half the distance of the bike and run. The oversimplified math- more swimming plus less running and biking.

I should probably not have signed up for the race, either. The University where I work now holds move in day on the same Sunday, meaning that by going to the race, I miss this big event, where my staff is responsible for doing a variety of things all of which are likely to fail- although my staff did a great job this year and it ended up neither what they were doing or the prep work I'd down prior caused anything but joy and happiness.

I'm not one of great pre-race athletes in any case. I'm usually pretty quiet, preferring to slip on the ipod headphones, listen to some snow patrol, coldplay, evanescence, get in a short warm-up, and then resign myself to the race. That's right, anything that starts with a swim does not inspire anticipation, only a sort of cold dread. I mean, my goal for the race was to place in my age group, but excitement ? Not really one of my pre-race thoughts- something I should work on.

My warm-up died a quick death when a woman I'd never met started gesturing to me to follow her while I was running. At first I nearly ignored her because I assumed she was either signaling someone else or simply didn't know who I was, however, I turned to follow and there was an athlete collapsed on the ground outside a port-a-potty. He eventually claimed the overwhelmingly horrible smell caused him to become light-headed. This sport is amazing for perspective. I was busy trying not to think about how tired my legs felt after a bad week of work and training, here's a guy that needed to lie by a port-a-potty just to get his legs under him. We walked him back to transition but he refused to go to the medical tent and as far as I can tell, he raced...

So, the swim. I'm going to be honest here because what's the point of having a blog and not being honest ? I really was uncomfortable in the first lap of the two lap swim, so uncomfortable that I could only occasionally keep my head down- you would think after 5 ironmans that the oddly claustrophobic combination of the feelings of being left behind and not being able to breath would no longer be an issue. But it is. I was losing time and I knew it, but I sort of kept going until I was dragging my knuckles on the sand on the way in. At that point I stood up and tried to run- but I was knee deep and I could walk. What a thing- walking. All I could think of was that I was walking during the first 15 minutes of a race...

The second lap went better except for some confusion over whether to head back out sighted on the first or second buoy (this is why I need to learn to breath from both sides...). At the point I realised I was swimming at the wrong buoy, I really had a strong sense that any hope of placing in my age group was out the window. I was really discouraged.

The bike is tough. 5 loops, lots of people. Lots of 'on your left please, on your left please, on your left, MOVE LEFT'. I had to yell fairly harshly at one woman who complained that she was already passing someone. The problem was, she'd executed the pass, had five bike lengths and was still afraid to move back over. Still, I thought there was less clumping (and drafting) than last time I did the race, and except for the podium finisher who passed me on the right for no good reason, it was not a bad ride. I spent five loops trying (and failing) to catch Steve Surprise. When I saw him on the first lap I knew he had 5 minutes on me. Still, I knew I had to ride hard, but not too hard, and just try to move up.

The run- I decided to divide the 10k, which is two loops, into 1.5 mile segments (more or less) and not push too hard. I knew I could easily go out angry at myself, blow up, and end up unable to really run well. I caught Steve, then I started catching people in my age group. I drank Gatorade. I poured water and ice on my head and down my back as the heat crept up and the humidity held at 50% or more. And my age group competitors came back to me. When I passed them, I made no effort to pull away, just kept the pace.

I ran myself into third place.

What did I learn: I can be a pretty clueless triathlete. I went into the race not even knowing how long the bike route was or how long the race might take. When I came in pushing 2:20 I was surprised at how long the race was. Fortunately for me. Patience, not aggressiveness, was the right tact to take, and while the victory was a minor one, I did achieve my goal...

He was in sight when I started the run and I decided

Vineman Half-Ironman Race Report

No, I didn't sneak out to California to do this race. A former Athlete's Foot-Hitek teammate, Jenny Meyer, sent out this race report and it's such a great one that I asked her if I could share it on my blog and she agreed. So without further interruption....

Friends, Black Swans, Fellow Crushers of Bone

Yesterday I completed the Vineman 70.3 Half-Ironman Triathlon. I did not drown, fall on my head (again), or re-break my feet. I have a fantastic white outline of a bathing suit on my otherwise scarlet back, but that is the worst of my injuries as of this morning's inventory.

The race took place in the heart of California's wine country - not whine country, as my brother Robert admonished me on the drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to Santa Rosa. At the expo, I saw more shapely, immaculately-shaven legs than I have ever seen - on men. A man with a Schwarzenegger accent explained all the race infractions that would earn you time in the penalty tents on the course - sort of like in hockey. I started getting nervous. I reeeeally didn't want to get a time out. Robert elbowed me when they started talking about the penalty for peeing in the vineyards.

Triathlons are so weird! You have to have so much stuff. Everybody seems to have a better idea of what's going on than I do - but then, that's something I'm used to. The swim took place in the Russian River. 1.2 miles. I watched people calmly piling up their creams and gu's and biking paraphernalia, while I was just praying that I left the right shoes in the right places and trying to inconspicuously rip the price tag off my brand-new wetsuit. I got in the water and panicked. I couldn't breathe!! ... duh, it's water. Pick up your head, dummy. And yes, I peed in my wetsuit, and I loved it. Sorry, Mitz. From that point onward, the swim was fun - when I wasn't being kicked in the face or groped underwater. When I got nervous, I just had to remember to breathe.

Ooooh it felt good to get out of the water! I saw Robert, in his Stanford kit and ready for his own ride, grinning at me from the sidelines as I ran my bike up the embankment. "BONECRUSHER!!!!!!" I bellowed as I clip-clopped up the hill (those were laughs of abject terror, right?). The bike ride was... well, boring. Beautiful, don't get me wrong. 56 miles. Vineyards, golden hills, yada yada yada. But you couldn't get within 7 meters of the person in front of you or you'd be penalized for drafting. And I've never biked that far without chit-chatting with people or stopping for breakfast. I was going along at a decent rate, drinking a lot, getting passed by dudes with aero helmets and disk wheels. I felt pretty snazzy with Rob's aerobars attached to my ride, although I think I was the only "competitor" with peanut butter sandwiches duct taped to my handlebars. I couldn't enjoy the scenery so much because I was just trying not to get a time out. I was also concentrating on not falling off my bike, and I was worried about getting a flat. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to confess that I did indeed pee in my bike shorts. More than once. If you don't think we can be friends anymore, I'll understand. Best part: 5 miles from the end of the bike portion, I saw a girl in my age group (you have your age written on your calves) hop off her bike to help one of the aero-helmetted guys who got a flat. I heard him protest, and I heard her say "your race is probably more important to you than mine is to me." So classy. "You're awesome!" I yelled at her. (Nobody would ever want my mechanical assistance, I'm pretty sure. But I'm also not that noble.)

I saw Mom and Rob at the transition area, where I yelled "I DIDN'T FALL OFF!!!". Slipped blithely into my running shoes (sort of) and started trucking into the run. Now, maybe you'll remind me of this when I start making noises about doing an Ironman: the run felt AWFUL. Like starting at mile 20 of a marathon, and then doing 13.1 miles. It was around noon, and the course was hilly, and the sun was beating down with sadistic insistence. I was passing people the whole time, but at a dead shuffle. I finished the entire event in a total of 5 hours, 41 minutes - achieving my goal of under 6 hours. Finisher 678 of 1800+ finishers, 125th woman, I think. Slower on the bike, but faster on my feet.

So... I think it'll always be the marathon for me. Less stuff to worry about, more socializing, more exuberance. Lower center of gravity, less far to fall. The triathlon means slow, prolonged discomfort. I can see how one might prefer the zany smorgasbord, but I couldn't thoroughly enjoy any of the disparate pieces out of consideration for all of them. Those of you who did Lake Placid yesterday - dang. Are you able to move?

Jenny "The Bonecrusher" Meyer

IM Lake Placid

It's always a tough day when we are here in CT on race day. For me, for both of us to some extent, Lake Placid is the race, but a new job for Margit and a new furnace were enough to shelve plans to head up this year, although as late as yesterday Margit was still talking about me jumping in the car and driving up.

Instead, I got up and ran early so we could take Ian to the Beardsley Zoo. It was a beautiful morning, a little windy maybe but as I was running back up the road in Indian Neck and the sun was stretched out long across the still water, no boats moving yet it made me think about just how special it is up there- and how Branford in the morning, before the traffic gets going, isn't such a bad place either.

It's ironic- if you had told me when I was 18 that one day a year the world would kind of stop and the only place I'd want to be was the Adirondacks, I'd have laughed, living about 2 hours south in the foothills north of the Capital District. Running and biking about 1000 ft of climbing from my high school parking lot to Grafton State Park (biking on a 3 speed touring bike), I never really thought much about doing either in a race- I just happened to have a friend who lived off Route 2- and I can't say I enjoyed it. Of course, I also wouldn't have guessed that a year later, I'd be selling the family house and moving away for good, making coming back to Upstate New York a lot less ordinary.

We have a lot of friends doing the race this year- Howard Jones, Ken Osborne, and of course Steve, not to mention Chris Schulten, who judging by his top 40 position, just about ready to ask for that pro card...

It's such a tough course- harsh but fair ? I don't know. I just hope everyone has a great race, or had a great race, or enjoys being in one of the world's truly special places, doing a truly special race...

Blocks versus Gu

My coach recently suggested that we adjust my workouts to focus on speed rather than distance, so I thought that I'd adjust my nutrition to match. Normal on my long bike rides I take Cliff Shot blocks, which are my preferred food, and Gatorade (a single bottle).

On Saturday, with a two hour ride and 30 minute run brick scheduled, and coming off a short race where I used Gu, I decided to take 4 Gu, the same Gatorade, and give the workout a go. The ride was simple- 1 hour in B, 30 minute time trial in C, 30 minutes in B, and the run in B. I decided to aim for a 42 mile ride that would take me out to Madison and up towards Durham from Hammonassett, with enough legitimate climbing to make it a serious 2 hour ride and also prepare me on the off chance we went up to Lake Placid.

Much as in a long race, your nutrition rarely hurts you while you are still on the bike. It can happen, but it's infrequent. The ride went well. I got the 42 miles in at the 1:56 mark, including over 22.4 for the time trial on rolling terrain, pulled into my driveway, tossed my helmet and shoes, put my running shoes and cap on and started run.

The run is hard, with a hill right at the beginning, and two other decent hills in about 33 minutes, although I was aiming for about 31 minutes with a solid B effort. The initial climb always makes you feel gassed and you have to remind yourself that you've gotten off the bike and climbed, that there's a downhill around the corner...

No reason to bore anyone actually reading this with the actually blow by blow of a thirty minute training run, so in short- I was gassed on the run. I did run a solid B pace, but it felt like an uneven C pace.

Verdict- Gu might be all right for a sprint race of about an hour, it simply isn't up to a two and a half hour race or workout without other supplemental nutrition that makes me wonder why you'd choose it as part of your nutrition suite. Now of course, that's just me. And just me is sticking with Clif Blocks.

Lost in Transition

starring: alan macdougall
not co-starring: Scarlett Johansson

It's been a weird season, that's for sure. Just doing an April Ironman is odd. The Griskus Sprint Triathlon was no exception.

I have a mixed history with the race. I was on a team with Ken Osborn and Guy D'Aniello that beat the entire field one year. I also sliced my hand open on my wheel one year and swam into a dock another. I went into the race this year nursing a sore knee, wearing a new uniform, and just hoping to beat the rain off the bike. But I found Evanescence's Lithium in the bathroom about 25 minutes before the race, so I had the right music.

I got off to a good start. I was in the elite wave, I started on the inside, and despite being left in the wake early, I found myself cutting a dead straight line to the first buoy while the bulk of the white caps were far off to the left. Me getting the best line to the first buoy seems hard to imagine, but I took it for what it was and kept going. The first buoy had come up quickly and I was encouraged. I was trying to break the swim into two halves. The second buoy also came up quickly and I was feeling, for me, pretty good. The third buoy ?

Not so soon. The buoys looked evenly spaced from the shore, but then again, it looks like a straight in and out. Finally, I hit the third buoy, rounded it with another guy from my wave, and got pushed back into the lane I'd just come up.

I've been swum into by a single off-course swimmer before. I have not swum into the oncoming lane of traffic before. Four guys hit me in rapid succession, knocked my goggles half off and left me ever-so-slightly disoriented. But I put my head down and swam until I heard someone telling me to get up and walk out. I ended up swimming in the top half of my age group and the top 40% of the field, which is remarkable (for me).

I came out and Marty told me I was 5:15 back.

I had a good bike ride. Not a lot to say. I only got passed by one athlete in his 30s, and I think i had a top 10 bike-split, but I'll never know, because the mat missed me as I went over it and I'm listed as having the slowest bike time in the whole field, 1:37 minutes, which is 30 minutes longer than the whole race took me. Not to be outdone by the mat, I spent upwards of 90 seconds missing my gear.

Now there's no one to blame but me that all I took into transition was a small black bag, a few gels, a hat and a pair of sneakers. Although I was careful not to cover my shoes with my wetsuit (experience has taught me not to make this rookie error). All of my teammates from the elite wave I'd caught on the bike left transition before I did. At one point Steve Surprise yelled 'back here' but it still took another 15 seconds to find the right row. I went out of transition behind Michael D, passed him, stopped to tighten a shoe, passed him again, and then bore down on the run. Eric was the first person I saw, and he said that I was 1 minute behind Steve. Ouch. I'd passed Steve on the bike around mile 8.5...

I have great teammates from Force 5 Sports, but I wanted to be the first Force 5 finisher, and I was trained and rested and ready to have a good race so that was a reasonable expectation. I passed Steve after the first mile, running really hard but feeling tired from the long downhill (it turns out the section we were on is a false flat that is actually uphill. I saw several other on the other side of the road but closer to the turnaround than I expected.

I caught Gary Rodenbaug next, who is a phenomenal 59 year old, absolute star. I tried to give him a few words of encouragement, and then set my sights on Robyn, who is another superb athlete (Gary and Robyn are fresh off nationals). Right in front of her was Bill Sheetz, one of Eric's clients. I gave them both what encouragement I could as I went by- we were climbing now and that cut into me. I passed a few more people and then duked it out and lost to one last athlete on the line.

Margit had a great race and placed in her age group, as did Robyn, Steve, and Gary. I didn't. Minus the 90 seconds lost in transition, I would have placed third, but you don't get mulligans in triathlon.

I was able to trade up my 4 dollar draft miller for a Guinness after the race, which was the best move I made all day- thanks, Mike Barry !

Did I learn anything finishing 25th instead of 15th ? Hell, yes. I went right to Eric and asked him for a plan. He said to get a flag so I can find my stuff. I think a canadian flag will serve the purpose nicely. There's no point in regretting the massive brain fart I had yesterday, and I still ran as hard as I could and moved myself back into a decent place, higher than last time I did the race in 2005.

I think I need to expect to do well more than I do. I ran hard, swam well, bikes very well, yet a mental mistake torpedoed me. Confidence isn't always a bad thing, and can actually help. While I didn't panic in transition, I also did not get the job done in an area I usually have no problem with. That's a lack of confidence.

At least that's easily corrected.

Fairfield Half- Marathon

Still in post-season mode. I decided to run Fairfield last night but was certainly not trained for it. On Friday I'd gone out and done a 75 minute run/40 minute time-trial brick and Saturday I'd ridden for three hours and mowed the lawn. I'm still icing the knee and my legs kind of hurt, so it was interesting decision, still, since I was planning on otherwise running for 90 minutes, I figured why not add an hour of driving time and a 35.00 t-shirt. You can never have enough of those.

Besides, I had a cool new kit to race in, courtesy of Dave Greenfield. My Elite Bicycles singlet and tri-shorts were just dying to be hauled through what is usually a brutal race. What makes the race so hard is a combination of factors- a top-notch field and a flat first two miles makes for over-cooking the early miles, the hills can wear you out early, if they don't get you the three mile downhill probably will, and the scorching humidity will broiling you in the home-stretch.

Today, for a change, coming off a 55 degree night, the heat was not a serious factor. And as Chris Schulten put it 'I looked like I was running comfortably.' In a sense this was ironic, because my knee was still hurting when Chris saw me (first mile), and because my calves hurt the entire race (on and off, but with lots of on). Nevertheless, my goal was to run comfortably, make the race a hard training run. I need to keep pushing myself because my legs tend to feel better the day after a good run or ride, not worse.

I went out about 6 minutes, which, while fast, was reasonable. I had some people around me I felt I could run with, I had a good mini-nutrition plan (Power-Gel at 2, 6, and 10 miles.) Except for being cut off by the same runner three times in the first three miles as they surged and then faded (finally going off the back and staying there), I felt like I was having a solid, if slightly slow, race. They changed the course this year and to me, the mile markers seemed to be a little funky. But I never started my watch and since there's very little flat running in the middle miles, who knows.

I was trying to run about the same pace as one of my teammates, Ian Frankel, who'd handed me my hat (visor ?) at Branford. He pulled away a few times, but I would close back on the hills and I was keeping him in my sights. I was also ignoring the occasional twinge in my left calf that felt like a knot was about to blossom. Finally, at around 7 miles, during what has to be a sustained three mile downhill, Ian paused to get some water and I passed him. I then surged past another runner as we went up a short rise. As soon as I passed him, he accelerated. At first I pushed again. I'd been gaining on this guy for some time, felt I'd established a faster pace and was a little confused by his decision to start trying to race mile 8.

I decided that I was not ready to race yet. And thus began a frustrating three miles. Now, I've gone on record saying that in a triathlon, I think there are times you battle to keep a cyclist from passing you as well as times you don't. For me, this is mostly about people I've already passed. Make no mistake, this is just about having to interrupt my own cadence and drop back for a rider who is going outside their previous pace to battle it out as well as not wanting to get involved in those back-and-forth battles on the bike, which I believe encourages drafting by the other riders in the area where it occurs. If you're going to pass someone, pass them. If you're struggling in the 15th second to get a tire-width ahead of someone, you shouldn't be there.

There's not a drafting rule in running though, and I've accepted that to run my own race, I cannot, absolutely cannot, battle with runners until very late in the race, when the outcome is actually up for grabs. Tack on to someone and let them help pull me into a group I'm already trying to close on, yes. Engage in psychological warfare with other runners trying to determine who has the biggest stones with 5 miles left to go in a race, no. alan go boom.

So I let the guy go, without backing off. The downhill was still going on, and I was trying to moderate my effort so I'd be ready for the last few hills. Ian caught up and then passed me after 9 miles. However, at around 10 miles he had to stop for water again. I continued pushing on the hills and on the very last uphill, I started by this same runner again. He immediately and obviously surged again and although I'm sure it was uncalled for I made a comment about runners and their egos (and hey, I was a runner once- not fast enough anymore to be one). I kept my pace consistent and on several occasions this led me to start to pass him. Each time he surged, or so it seemed to me. To be fair, it could have been my imagination, but it didn't seem like it.

Finally, after mile 11, I just picked it up a notch. After all, I'd been at about 95% and as I pushed, my legs felt good, better than they had all day. I ended up being glad this guy was behind me, because I really pushed those last two miles and finally felt like I was running well. Who knows ? I might just have been imagining what was going on, but it gave me the push I needed.

I felt bad for Ian. If he had not had to stop for water, he'd certainly have beaten me and ran a better race.

I surprised to see that I'd actually beaten my last time by about 15 seconds. It's a great race. But the drivers sure seem testy today.

A big nod to teammates Chris Schulten, who buried the course in 1:17, Ian Frankel, Steve Surprise, who skipped a sprint triathlon to do the right thing for his Lake Placid training, and Bill Sheetz, who looked like he had a great race.

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.

Washington Trails

No one was more surprised when I told him that I had not run a road race since last December than Ken Platt, who'd timed both that race- Christopher Martin's, and this one, the Washington Trails 10k.

in the interim I'd done 3 duathlons and an Ironman, and I have a half-ironman coming in two weeks. On Saturday I'd done a very hard two hour ride, 40 minute run brick, and yesterday I'd done an extremely hilly two hour ride, leaving my calves sore.

Washington Trails is a tough race. I regularly ride the course as part of my longer, hillier rides. It's also a race that I've had some decent results at- a pair of fifth and then back to back third places the last two years, but I never know who is going to show up at the race and kick my ass. There's almost always a local favourite/college division I all-american or other top runner, Chris Schulten or some other top-notch guy. This year was no exception.

While warming up I ran across Dave Pantin, Chris Dickerson, and Mike Gulay, who wasn't, it turned out, there to run. Even John Bysiewicz was there, talking large to Chris. We were joking about letting JB carry us up the first hill, but as I hadn't raced in 6 months, I should have known what would happen.

When the cannon went off, the kids took off, and full of adreneline, I chased them down. Halfway up the first hill, I took the lead, humped over the hill, and turned onto 17 (79?). I was running hard, really hard, but I was also hoping someone, anyone with more brains than me would catch me and allow me to back off. I mean, I knew I was running too fast, but for the second time in eight days I was following the pace car so I had to just keep plowing along, the old man leading out the college kids in hid custom kit, working too hard to even put on the tunes.

Finally, mercifully, two college kids ran me down just shy of the one mile mark and I went through at a totally sick 5:44 on a course I would never run under sixes. I turned the corner and started to wonder when Chris Dickerson would catch me. That didn't happen until well after two miles. Chris is the most awesome guy- he always has a word or words of encouragement as he drops me, never chiding me for going out too hard.

We schleped up more hills, and by the 5k mark, I'd dropped to 6th and I was hurting, but I was still running pretty strong. I got passed for the last time after the big downhill that takes you through four miles and I neither ran down the last guy in range nor did I get caught by Dave Pantin. It was a great day for a race- hot, sunny, and humid, just how I like it. I even took a power gel at about 5 miles and I think it really helped carry me to the finish, sore calves and all.

I've run faster there, finished higher up than 7th, but for my first road race of 2007, I'll take my medal and work on recovering, and I certainly feel like I ran well.