It seems like it's easier to find time to train than it is time to right race reports, but Griskus is the sort of race you actually want to write about.
I've had a lot of bad races there. I've gotten lost in transition. I've gotten lost on the swim course. I've cut my hand open on my bladed spokes during the bike. It makes me wonder why Tom Wilkas would stick a guy like me in the elite wave. He explained that he expected me to be a top 75 finisher, which took a lot of pressure off.
Until I showed up at the race, and picked up my number.
8.
Man, these low numbers. I love to get them, but I feel, uh, so unworthy sometimes.
I'd drove up to the race with @poycc and we'd gotten there early enough that I had time get my number, hit the loo, buy a race belt (yes, another race belt, grrr, but it was only 10.00), get my wetsuit on and swim all the way out to the second of the five buoys on the swim course. The more buoys I hit pre-race, the more comfortable I usually am during the race.
I saw Carl Russell in transition (check out his blog), racked a few bikes down from me, before I started the swim and it was great to see a fellow EH athlete. He was- as always- in good spirits and looking forward to the challenge ahead that I was probably dreading.
I had a good swim warm up, but I was really nervous. My last race had gone well- I'd come back from a massive panic attack in the water followed by boot camp in the pool to place in my age group at an Olympic race, and here I was, standing on the beach and frak. There was Chris Thomas. Dom Gillen. Ian Ray. Joe Whelan. Finally I found myself standing next to Chris Schulten, another awesome triathlete and we were joking with each other about why we weren't standing right in front and being uncomfortable in the water.
That really helped me a lot. Chris is such a nice guy,a great positive attitude and really humble. We were laughing about how his dad and I always see each other when we're working out and it really took that nervous edge off. Normally I want to be left alone with my thoughts before a race starts and resent any sort of intrusion, so extra props to Chris...
I didn't feel that good on the swim out to the far buoy. I was short of breath and looking up a lot. Of course, I was worried about how badly I was being left behind and constantly checking to see that yes, there were other pink caps (yes pink, we're guys, so why we we pink and the women purple ?) around me. I was also convinced that Ian, Chris, Dom and the other elites would be slamming head on into me by the third buoy.
I hit the turn around and everything changed. Suddenly I was swimming- actually on someone's feet, using their draft, swimming strong. I had to dodge a few people going out in the other waves, but I had a good straight swim back in. I did not cross the women's side and slam into a floating dock. I didn't cramp. and I was 13th of 39 in my age group in the swim.
Huh ?
Oh yeah. I got my ass kick by 5-6 minutes by the actual elite athletes.
Then I got lost in transition again. No Bill Murray, no Scarlett Johnassen. Just the jarring dislocation of not being to find a time trial helmet or an orange bike that say 'Starbuck' on them. Which is half the reason those things are there.
Time lost: 10-15 seconds.
I started out hammering the bike. I passed @poycc and hit 30 mph. I stayed in that ranged until the turn, then started really bearing down on people after the turn. Except for one small uphill section, it's mostly downhill. I was really working, and my bike was making a ton of noise. I'd spent about half an hour cleaning and lubing the chain and adjusting the shifting, but no time fixing my disintegrating x-lab (thank you, Route 146), which was rattling like the chains in a medieval rack- a piece would fall off a few rides later.
I really had a good opening half of the bike. As always, there were tons of people to pass, I worked the downhills a little harder than I usually do, and I took some risks, which actually aren't risks as much as me trusting my reflexes and actually racing the bike, as opposed to just riding it.
I have to admit though that I was waiting for the sharp left-hand turn- and waiting, and waiting. It's always later than I think.
Then the climbing starts. On the plus side, there was no point in the race where I felt the need to consult the small ring on the front.
On the minus side, as I climbed my way through the pack, I lost my temper with someone who was, quite honestly, drafting. In my opinion at least.
I was well behind but closing on a woman, a man, and another man who was passing the other two. As the faster rider passed, the woman pulled out and followed. Both were on the yellow line or close to it- there were other riders that became engaged, and finally, as I closed, I'd had enough. I felt that this woman was playing off the faster rider, both blocking and drafting.
I shold have left my impression of what was going on in my head and said politely 'On your left.' Or 'on yer left.' (Check out On Yer Left online). Instead I, as loud as I could, and that loud, trust me, yelled 'Get off his wheel.'
I didn't. What I did was ill-considered.
I kept climbing.
Finally, you take a right-hand turn, get a break from the hills, even get some downhills. I passed Gary Rodebaug. It's a real honour to race against this guy and have him as a teammate- he's a multiple Team-USA athlete, and he kicks my ass in the swim. And when I am lucky enough to pass him he encourages me to get moving.
At the top of the last hill, Bethel had a car. the was a guy in front of me and I knew I needed to pass him before we crested the hill, that if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to take him on the downhill. I was slow getting past him, so I left the saddle, made a very angry face, and found the extra rpms I needs to get the job done, rocking the bike. It felt good. Afterwards, I was told that I am 'the angriest looking cyclist' and you'd never think I was the same guy that was standing around casually chatting after the race.
Well, I was angry. At me.
I got into and out of transition in much better order than the T1.
On the way out from the park I saw Robyn Passander, another top-notch teammate, the second place woman, and Mike Maxichenko. I wanted to pass all three, so I started turning it up. I was tired, but I'd had a Clif Shot so I was felling good. Ian and Margit were at the turn, but I didn't even look at them. I just turned the corner, waved, and ran. I made the pass on all three of them quickly and then I was on the downhill.
I hammered the downhill. I passed a bunch of guys and the first woman and I just kept running hard and pretty much all out to the turn-around, knowing that the climb back out would be brutal.
When it happened.
And that's the funny thing about the run back. It's not uphill all the way, in fact, it's not really uphill until you're near the overpass and that's like halfway back. So I think I undersold the return trip.
As I was climbing I had Oakes Ames, John Wilson, and Don Gustavason in front of me. John and Oakes are awesome athletes but I had to run them down. I passed them after the end of the climb, not know Oakes had two minutes on me and therefore had me in the can. I was chasing Don but I never quite got there.
Overall, I was really psyched about the race, finsihing 15th overall and 3rd in my age group. This was my best Griskus ever.
Of course, once I saw my splits, I was unhappy with how I climbed and could see places where I could have shaved maybe a minute off the whole race. That's the peril of being me. I am never quite happy, even when I am.
But if a sprint race in July is something that can be built on, then this was just that.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Weekend Away from Racing
I've been on the run (and the bike) for two months now, starting with a pair of races in Rochester leading into back-to-back 10ks Memorial. Day weekend. I hadn't let the racing interfere with my training, in fact, I'd allowed the opposite and lived with slow times, at once accepting them yet berating myself.
So when many of my friends and even my coach were headed to Providence for the 70.3, I was left with an entire weekend to training with no consideration of racing. Add that to half-day Fridays and Eric was able to split my long workouts, something I'm generally not a fan of. I like following up one long ride with another, and then running the next day, but the truth is this worked a lot better.
Friday
61.3 miles in 2:51, plus a 20 minute run
After a disappointing bike split at Griskus (28:24 or so), I decided I needed a little hill work, so I traded my steady spins on Route 1 for a little climbing up towards Durham. I was supposed to do one hour in B, one hour in high B, and one hour in C.
The highlight of the ride was that about a minute before my turn-around, I saw a guy headed in the opposite direction. I turned around when the minute was up and started chasing. I'd noticed he was wearing University of Indiana (?) cycling gear, so I knew there was no guarantee I was going to catch him. But I did, just on the far side of the traffic circle at Route 80 and 79 (77?). I passed him and he jumped on my wheel. Instead of getting annoyed, I decided to have some fun with it. Before I knew it, we were going 24-27 mph up the hills and 40 mph down the hills.
And I was leading the train. What I've learned riding with guys like Eric and Kenny is that (as long as they want to humour me) I can sit on their wheel, but not lead. I mean, they can drop me at their leisure, but as long as I'm willing to work hard, I can ride on someone's wheel for a long way.
Not lead, and not at speeds like this.
I broke off at the fork to head back down to Hammonnassett and got a wave from the guy.
Engaging in the pull, and not getting annoyed that someone was breaking into my workout, was a way better choice, and I found out a little bit about myself. I also rode hills, and in three hours, lost just a couple of tenths of a mile per hour.
Saturday
30 minute swim, 90 minute bike
I had a great swim, marred only by some nasty sea-shell inflicted cuts on my feet. The one is still bleeding on and off and it's Sunday night. My bike was easy, which is to say, not hard, and therefore, didn't feel that good...
Sunday
90 minute run
My workout was the same as the bike, but the times halved- b, high b, c, 30 minutes each.
I ran the first thirty minutes with Dick Korby. We'd both been at the same beer-tasting Saturday (if you follow me on Twitter you saw a crazy burst of beers that I tried), and I think Dick was a little hung-over. I felt OK. We ran a steady 30 minutes, I dropped him back at his car, turned up the heat a little, and decided to hit out 146 rather than down into Indian Neck.
In other words, more hills.
The hard hills were in the middle hour and I ran really well. My feet were a little sore from the cuts, but what can you do ?
I ran down into Stony Creek, put myself what I figured was 32-33 minutes from home and started the C part of the run. I ran the whole last part at 10K and got back to the house in 27:30.
What I learned- I would say I had my best ride of the year Friday, and my best run of the year Sunday. While I don't want an easy day between my hard days every week, it was just what I needed.
Thanks coach- and congratulations on another Hawaii slot, Eric !
So when many of my friends and even my coach were headed to Providence for the 70.3, I was left with an entire weekend to training with no consideration of racing. Add that to half-day Fridays and Eric was able to split my long workouts, something I'm generally not a fan of. I like following up one long ride with another, and then running the next day, but the truth is this worked a lot better.
Friday
61.3 miles in 2:51, plus a 20 minute run
After a disappointing bike split at Griskus (28:24 or so), I decided I needed a little hill work, so I traded my steady spins on Route 1 for a little climbing up towards Durham. I was supposed to do one hour in B, one hour in high B, and one hour in C.
The highlight of the ride was that about a minute before my turn-around, I saw a guy headed in the opposite direction. I turned around when the minute was up and started chasing. I'd noticed he was wearing University of Indiana (?) cycling gear, so I knew there was no guarantee I was going to catch him. But I did, just on the far side of the traffic circle at Route 80 and 79 (77?). I passed him and he jumped on my wheel. Instead of getting annoyed, I decided to have some fun with it. Before I knew it, we were going 24-27 mph up the hills and 40 mph down the hills.
And I was leading the train. What I've learned riding with guys like Eric and Kenny is that (as long as they want to humour me) I can sit on their wheel, but not lead. I mean, they can drop me at their leisure, but as long as I'm willing to work hard, I can ride on someone's wheel for a long way.
Not lead, and not at speeds like this.
I broke off at the fork to head back down to Hammonnassett and got a wave from the guy.
Engaging in the pull, and not getting annoyed that someone was breaking into my workout, was a way better choice, and I found out a little bit about myself. I also rode hills, and in three hours, lost just a couple of tenths of a mile per hour.
Saturday
30 minute swim, 90 minute bike
I had a great swim, marred only by some nasty sea-shell inflicted cuts on my feet. The one is still bleeding on and off and it's Sunday night. My bike was easy, which is to say, not hard, and therefore, didn't feel that good...
Sunday
90 minute run
My workout was the same as the bike, but the times halved- b, high b, c, 30 minutes each.
I ran the first thirty minutes with Dick Korby. We'd both been at the same beer-tasting Saturday (if you follow me on Twitter you saw a crazy burst of beers that I tried), and I think Dick was a little hung-over. I felt OK. We ran a steady 30 minutes, I dropped him back at his car, turned up the heat a little, and decided to hit out 146 rather than down into Indian Neck.
In other words, more hills.
The hard hills were in the middle hour and I ran really well. My feet were a little sore from the cuts, but what can you do ?
I ran down into Stony Creek, put myself what I figured was 32-33 minutes from home and started the C part of the run. I ran the whole last part at 10K and got back to the house in 27:30.
What I learned- I would say I had my best ride of the year Friday, and my best run of the year Sunday. While I don't want an easy day between my hard days every week, it was just what I needed.
Thanks coach- and congratulations on another Hawaii slot, Eric !
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Fairfield Half-Marathon
Back in January, I'd set this as one of my three A races for the year. This was not, in hindsight, the smartest move.
We got down to the race on time- Margit and Dick Korby were also running- and after some parking misadventures we actually had a reasonable amount of time to warm up.
Finally I was on the line, half a row back, watching the elite athletes all adjusting their D-Tags after JB gave D-Tag instructions and they realised the tags were not exactly right.
The start of the race is fast and furious and maybe I shouldn't be right in front because I'm not that good any more or... nah. I haven't started thinking that way, at least not at the race... OK, maybe I was a full row back.
I didn't feel that wonderful at the start of the race. We'd been out late at the Branford fireworks the night before and my legs were hardly fresh from training, which included some long hard rides (well, not exactly long, just 50-60 miles). I always feel like I'm being engulfed at the start of the race, both by men and women that might just have staying power and by the burn and crash crowd. I don't really care, because I figure if I'm going to be fighting for a spot in the top 40-50 out of 2500 people, I'd better have myself positioned well early.
It spreads out pretty quickly and yeah, it's a little soul-crushing to have the really top-notch runners eating your lunch to the tune of a full minute at mile one. I mean, there are guys out there who are going to run half a marathon at sub-five pace. The longest race I ever had a sub-five minute mile in was a 10K, and you can bet it was only one mile.
You either push crap like that out of your head pretty quickly or you (hey wait, is that what happens to me in the swim during triathlons, the or...) Anyway, Shannon McHale pulled up next to me and went stride for stride as we neared the mile mark. But I wanted no part of that. Shannon is an olympic qualifier quality athlete and I'm not at her level. I could see the clock and decided to ratchet it down half a notch.
I was expecting Dave Pantin or another one of the people I'm usually back and forth with to pass me but the people I did see I didn't recognize. I was falling a little out of contact with people though and trying not to get frustrated and stay patient as I went through two miles and the first hill started to loom in front of us.
In long races I have a theory about how I should run hills, which is that I should simply defend, that is, run at around the pace of the people around me. Because climbing is my one strength, rather than beat myself up on hills, I try to hold back and wait for hills late in the race where I can attack and where it won't matter how gasses I get. I was passing a few people up that first big hill, but nothing major. I starting sipping at my bottle of heed and tried to stay settled in, although more people passed me after we crested.
It was somewhere on the resulting downhill that we ran into some of Team in Training people. Team in Training does a lot of good work both with charity and with bring athletes to sport. Sometimes these athletes are less-seasoned. At long road races, you will sometimes see Team in Training people out walking the course. I guess this makes sense- if you can't run a half-marathon (or don't think you can), walk it first. And they send the athletes out well-ahead of the start of the race so they are not finishing late in the day (I assume these athletes are not competitors and don't get finisher medals).
Where this causes a problem is with your lead runners, who running in small packs, groups of three to five who are looking for short sight-lines and tangents. I wasn't really thinking about there being walkers out on the course.
I certainly wasn't expecting to go into a turn and find three of them walking side by side, taking up an entire lane of the road, I watch some of the people in front dodging them and I yelled "Clear the arc. Walk single file."
They immediately complied, which was great, but I have to wonder what they has been thinking as the elite athletes went streaming by them and I'm surprised I was the first one to say anything to them three or four minutes later.
I had been behind six minute mile pace by the second mile, and with each mile that ticked off, it got a little worse. I did once run six flat on this course once, so running in the 6:20s was not really what I wanted, however, that six was a long time ago. There's quite a bit of work in miles four, five and six and it's important to really hold yourself in check in these miles as you can overcook yourself.
There wasn't much movement placewise in these miles. I was back and forth with one guy in a red singlet, and I passed one or two people, but I also spent a lot of time running by myself.
It's a no ipod race, so I'd taken my headphones and place them in the pouch of my singlet, with the shuffle clipped to my race belt. About six and a half miles in, the ipod fell off the belt. It landed on the double-yellow line. It wasn't much of a decision, race or no I had to pick it up so I quickly turned and bent over. I looked up. There was a car bearing down on me at about 25-30 miles an hour and not slowing down. I had one chance to pick the ipod up, after which the car would be too close for me to get up and get moving without getting hit.
The car didn't slow. I got the ipod in my hand and ran hard.
I probably lost 3-4 seconds at this.
Cars. There were more on the road than I remember any other year.
At a bit past eight miles I believe, there was an odd 4 way intersection. I'd picked up a white SUV that was coming into the traffic lane behind me and to be honest, this is exactly why ipods are banned at this race. I think for the level of athletes that are not running in packs, this particular course is just not safe with ipods- it's just too long to have the soft of traffic control I'd normally expect at a race.
I went through the middle of the intersection because that was the line of the road. I wanted to move right so the SUV could accelerate by me, however, when I turned to look the SUV was passing me on the right at 25mph. The woman's window was open and I barked 'slow down'. She replied:
'Get out of the road.'
This was too much. I'd felt a lot of pressure from cars on the course, more than I was happy with, and this dimwit was passing me at speed on the right. I didn't care that she had her husband and at least one kid in the car. I unleashed some choice invectives, then got back to focusing on the race.
I was still holding back until the big hill- the one with the turn in the middle. I went through the water station before the hills closing on the guy in front of me, who'd I'd been trailing for a good 5 miles, closing the gap from about 300 meters to maybe 50.
Another runner in front of him was coming back in the distance.
It was close, but I made the pass right at the top of the hill. I was determined to have him looking at my back on the downhill and as soon as I'd passed him I was working on the man in front of me. I was able to cut the gap in half and as we went through a twist in the road I drew even with him as an SUV pushed by us coming at us, deny us the tangent. We went through a ladder-mounted sprinker together and then he was off the back as well. I had one more guy in front of me I thought I could catch. We went through twelve miles before the turn I think, and as I went to make the turn there was a woman walking her dog. She went into the cross-walk with the dog and cut me off.
I couldn't believe it but all I said was 'Come on, lady'. I wanted the guy in front of me to be behind me, and I was able to make the pass. Then I was after the next guy, but he had 100 meters at the last turn and I was chasing him to no purpose. We passed the start and by the time I got there, he was headed into the beach.
Off in the distance was the giant American flag, tantalizing and not the finish, I reminded myself.
I made the turn and then I was running on the stones and sand, struggling a bit on the soft ground. Then I was under the flag and after that, quickly through the finish line. The next guy behind me, the last one I'd passed, lost 30 seconds in that last mile.
A 1:24:16, 36th overall. Not great. But I'd had a great week of training and it was a solid race. I've run 1;24 3 times in the last four tries.
Can I complain about that ? Well, of course. But I won't.
We got down to the race on time- Margit and Dick Korby were also running- and after some parking misadventures we actually had a reasonable amount of time to warm up.
Finally I was on the line, half a row back, watching the elite athletes all adjusting their D-Tags after JB gave D-Tag instructions and they realised the tags were not exactly right.
The start of the race is fast and furious and maybe I shouldn't be right in front because I'm not that good any more or... nah. I haven't started thinking that way, at least not at the race... OK, maybe I was a full row back.
I didn't feel that wonderful at the start of the race. We'd been out late at the Branford fireworks the night before and my legs were hardly fresh from training, which included some long hard rides (well, not exactly long, just 50-60 miles). I always feel like I'm being engulfed at the start of the race, both by men and women that might just have staying power and by the burn and crash crowd. I don't really care, because I figure if I'm going to be fighting for a spot in the top 40-50 out of 2500 people, I'd better have myself positioned well early.
It spreads out pretty quickly and yeah, it's a little soul-crushing to have the really top-notch runners eating your lunch to the tune of a full minute at mile one. I mean, there are guys out there who are going to run half a marathon at sub-five pace. The longest race I ever had a sub-five minute mile in was a 10K, and you can bet it was only one mile.
You either push crap like that out of your head pretty quickly or you (hey wait, is that what happens to me in the swim during triathlons, the or...) Anyway, Shannon McHale pulled up next to me and went stride for stride as we neared the mile mark. But I wanted no part of that. Shannon is an olympic qualifier quality athlete and I'm not at her level. I could see the clock and decided to ratchet it down half a notch.
I was expecting Dave Pantin or another one of the people I'm usually back and forth with to pass me but the people I did see I didn't recognize. I was falling a little out of contact with people though and trying not to get frustrated and stay patient as I went through two miles and the first hill started to loom in front of us.
In long races I have a theory about how I should run hills, which is that I should simply defend, that is, run at around the pace of the people around me. Because climbing is my one strength, rather than beat myself up on hills, I try to hold back and wait for hills late in the race where I can attack and where it won't matter how gasses I get. I was passing a few people up that first big hill, but nothing major. I starting sipping at my bottle of heed and tried to stay settled in, although more people passed me after we crested.
It was somewhere on the resulting downhill that we ran into some of Team in Training people. Team in Training does a lot of good work both with charity and with bring athletes to sport. Sometimes these athletes are less-seasoned. At long road races, you will sometimes see Team in Training people out walking the course. I guess this makes sense- if you can't run a half-marathon (or don't think you can), walk it first. And they send the athletes out well-ahead of the start of the race so they are not finishing late in the day (I assume these athletes are not competitors and don't get finisher medals).
Where this causes a problem is with your lead runners, who running in small packs, groups of three to five who are looking for short sight-lines and tangents. I wasn't really thinking about there being walkers out on the course.
I certainly wasn't expecting to go into a turn and find three of them walking side by side, taking up an entire lane of the road, I watch some of the people in front dodging them and I yelled "Clear the arc. Walk single file."
They immediately complied, which was great, but I have to wonder what they has been thinking as the elite athletes went streaming by them and I'm surprised I was the first one to say anything to them three or four minutes later.
I had been behind six minute mile pace by the second mile, and with each mile that ticked off, it got a little worse. I did once run six flat on this course once, so running in the 6:20s was not really what I wanted, however, that six was a long time ago. There's quite a bit of work in miles four, five and six and it's important to really hold yourself in check in these miles as you can overcook yourself.
There wasn't much movement placewise in these miles. I was back and forth with one guy in a red singlet, and I passed one or two people, but I also spent a lot of time running by myself.
It's a no ipod race, so I'd taken my headphones and place them in the pouch of my singlet, with the shuffle clipped to my race belt. About six and a half miles in, the ipod fell off the belt. It landed on the double-yellow line. It wasn't much of a decision, race or no I had to pick it up so I quickly turned and bent over. I looked up. There was a car bearing down on me at about 25-30 miles an hour and not slowing down. I had one chance to pick the ipod up, after which the car would be too close for me to get up and get moving without getting hit.
The car didn't slow. I got the ipod in my hand and ran hard.
I probably lost 3-4 seconds at this.
Cars. There were more on the road than I remember any other year.
At a bit past eight miles I believe, there was an odd 4 way intersection. I'd picked up a white SUV that was coming into the traffic lane behind me and to be honest, this is exactly why ipods are banned at this race. I think for the level of athletes that are not running in packs, this particular course is just not safe with ipods- it's just too long to have the soft of traffic control I'd normally expect at a race.
I went through the middle of the intersection because that was the line of the road. I wanted to move right so the SUV could accelerate by me, however, when I turned to look the SUV was passing me on the right at 25mph. The woman's window was open and I barked 'slow down'. She replied:
'Get out of the road.'
This was too much. I'd felt a lot of pressure from cars on the course, more than I was happy with, and this dimwit was passing me at speed on the right. I didn't care that she had her husband and at least one kid in the car. I unleashed some choice invectives, then got back to focusing on the race.
I was still holding back until the big hill- the one with the turn in the middle. I went through the water station before the hills closing on the guy in front of me, who'd I'd been trailing for a good 5 miles, closing the gap from about 300 meters to maybe 50.
Another runner in front of him was coming back in the distance.
It was close, but I made the pass right at the top of the hill. I was determined to have him looking at my back on the downhill and as soon as I'd passed him I was working on the man in front of me. I was able to cut the gap in half and as we went through a twist in the road I drew even with him as an SUV pushed by us coming at us, deny us the tangent. We went through a ladder-mounted sprinker together and then he was off the back as well. I had one more guy in front of me I thought I could catch. We went through twelve miles before the turn I think, and as I went to make the turn there was a woman walking her dog. She went into the cross-walk with the dog and cut me off.
I couldn't believe it but all I said was 'Come on, lady'. I wanted the guy in front of me to be behind me, and I was able to make the pass. Then I was after the next guy, but he had 100 meters at the last turn and I was chasing him to no purpose. We passed the start and by the time I got there, he was headed into the beach.
Off in the distance was the giant American flag, tantalizing and not the finish, I reminded myself.
I made the turn and then I was running on the stones and sand, struggling a bit on the soft ground. Then I was under the flag and after that, quickly through the finish line. The next guy behind me, the last one I'd passed, lost 30 seconds in that last mile.
A 1:24:16, 36th overall. Not great. But I'd had a great week of training and it was a solid race. I've run 1;24 3 times in the last four tries.
Can I complain about that ? Well, of course. But I won't.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Branford Road Race
I seem to be on a two year cycle with Branford where I run well one year, and then stink the course up the next. I was on the stink end of the cycle this year.
It's a tough race. Like most of my friends we're all coming off races or long training days. I was seven days on from Health Net, which was one hard Olympic-distance race. I'd run two hours Monday and put up a 60 mile ride Friday in about 2:50.
None of that should have stopped me from breaking 30:00...
I was in the dead middle at the start, one row back, and got off to a good start.
I wanted to moderate my effort, but I was absolutely engulfed at the start by men, women, and kids. I mean it was a free for all and there were a lot of people around me who I felt maybe shouldn't be taking it out quite so fast. The first mile includes a long downhill and I was settled in and felt like I was running fairly even, picking my way through the crowd and following the shortest line. I was amazed at how many people were not following the tightest line, or anything like it. I was watching whole teams of people headed down the middle or even towards the right-hand side of the road.
I had two women in front of me and then a third passed me before the mile mark.
I went through at about 5:35, maybe 5 seconds too fast.
There was more downhill and I tried my best to push. I could see one of the people I'd expected to come back to earth still running well ahead of me. He was a kid that looked to be about 12, with a buzz cut- red hair- wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Really, this kid ran a 5:20 mile.
The second mile is not an hard mile, but it gets hard because everyone continues the blistering pace. I'd backed off a little and went through that second mile in about 11:25. I was hanging in with a group, but running to one side of them, because they were making no effort to follow the shortest line. There was no wind along the seawall, so it made no sense to sit in someone's wheelhouse, which I don't like anyway.
We took the turn, and the third place woman was still just out of reach, the kid with the buzz-cut was on a mission, and I felt like I was behind the world. At the same time, there were several people behind me that I'd been beaten by last year, so I decided to just hang on and keep working. Past the turn it's downhill and then it flattens out, you get a quick peak at the ocean, then turn your back to it and blister your ass up the course's toughest hill.
I was moderate on the hill, but still passing people. Looking back I went too slow.
I passed a number of people. The third place woman- who passed me back once on the downhill before I passed her again. Several guys in their fifties. The kid with the red hair ? No, not yet. I swear, I was getting housed by a 12 year old, or so it seemed.
After turning the three mile mark, you're on a hill. I ran well in this section, and mile 4 (3-4) was my best. This included running by my house, where Ian and Great and the Blaskovichs were in my driveway cheering and taking photos- thanks again. Jen and John !
You climb part of the hill and hit the 4 mile mark. I had people in front of me and people pushing me from behind, and I just ran as hard as I could. I did not have a great last mile, right about 6 minutes flat.
I turned the corner at the armory running well through the downhill, however after I turned the corner I just didn't have a great kick. I had a gel in my singlet and I should have taken it but I didn't. Mistake. Always a mistake. The final turn was so far away.
I ran past Caron's Corner again and some people from the store were out there cheering, then it was hard to the turn. I was neither catching nor being caught.
Near the turn, the smell of carnival food and the pancake breakfast was overwhelming. I wanted to vomit. The smell, a mix of frying and, uh, frying, does not go well with maximal or near-maximal physical effort. Then I did hit the turn and the clock said 29:51.
I ran as hard as could to break 30:00 but instead I hit the line at 30:05 and that was just not what I wanted.
But you know, the A race on my schedule is Fairfield, not Branford. If I run well there, this race won't matter. I do know this. Guys like George Buchanan and Jim Zoldy, Bill Thramann and Hank Berkowitz, Steve Swift- they all ran good races on an incredibly humid day.
I just hope I remember to look back at this post next year so it reminds me I'm supposed to run well next year...
It's a tough race. Like most of my friends we're all coming off races or long training days. I was seven days on from Health Net, which was one hard Olympic-distance race. I'd run two hours Monday and put up a 60 mile ride Friday in about 2:50.
None of that should have stopped me from breaking 30:00...
I was in the dead middle at the start, one row back, and got off to a good start.
I wanted to moderate my effort, but I was absolutely engulfed at the start by men, women, and kids. I mean it was a free for all and there were a lot of people around me who I felt maybe shouldn't be taking it out quite so fast. The first mile includes a long downhill and I was settled in and felt like I was running fairly even, picking my way through the crowd and following the shortest line. I was amazed at how many people were not following the tightest line, or anything like it. I was watching whole teams of people headed down the middle or even towards the right-hand side of the road.
I had two women in front of me and then a third passed me before the mile mark.
I went through at about 5:35, maybe 5 seconds too fast.
There was more downhill and I tried my best to push. I could see one of the people I'd expected to come back to earth still running well ahead of me. He was a kid that looked to be about 12, with a buzz cut- red hair- wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Really, this kid ran a 5:20 mile.
The second mile is not an hard mile, but it gets hard because everyone continues the blistering pace. I'd backed off a little and went through that second mile in about 11:25. I was hanging in with a group, but running to one side of them, because they were making no effort to follow the shortest line. There was no wind along the seawall, so it made no sense to sit in someone's wheelhouse, which I don't like anyway.
We took the turn, and the third place woman was still just out of reach, the kid with the buzz-cut was on a mission, and I felt like I was behind the world. At the same time, there were several people behind me that I'd been beaten by last year, so I decided to just hang on and keep working. Past the turn it's downhill and then it flattens out, you get a quick peak at the ocean, then turn your back to it and blister your ass up the course's toughest hill.
I was moderate on the hill, but still passing people. Looking back I went too slow.
I passed a number of people. The third place woman- who passed me back once on the downhill before I passed her again. Several guys in their fifties. The kid with the red hair ? No, not yet. I swear, I was getting housed by a 12 year old, or so it seemed.
After turning the three mile mark, you're on a hill. I ran well in this section, and mile 4 (3-4) was my best. This included running by my house, where Ian and Great and the Blaskovichs were in my driveway cheering and taking photos- thanks again. Jen and John !
You climb part of the hill and hit the 4 mile mark. I had people in front of me and people pushing me from behind, and I just ran as hard as I could. I did not have a great last mile, right about 6 minutes flat.
I turned the corner at the armory running well through the downhill, however after I turned the corner I just didn't have a great kick. I had a gel in my singlet and I should have taken it but I didn't. Mistake. Always a mistake. The final turn was so far away.
I ran past Caron's Corner again and some people from the store were out there cheering, then it was hard to the turn. I was neither catching nor being caught.
Near the turn, the smell of carnival food and the pancake breakfast was overwhelming. I wanted to vomit. The smell, a mix of frying and, uh, frying, does not go well with maximal or near-maximal physical effort. Then I did hit the turn and the clock said 29:51.
I ran as hard as could to break 30:00 but instead I hit the line at 30:05 and that was just not what I wanted.
But you know, the A race on my schedule is Fairfield, not Branford. If I run well there, this race won't matter. I do know this. Guys like George Buchanan and Jim Zoldy, Bill Thramann and Hank Berkowitz, Steve Swift- they all ran good races on an incredibly humid day.
I just hope I remember to look back at this post next year so it reminds me I'm supposed to run well next year...
Monday, June 22, 2009
Saxo Bank Announces Tour Team
Saxo Bank announces Tour team
By AFP
Fabian Cancellara will look to win the Tour's first yellow jersey for Saxo Bank (AFP/Getty Images)
The Saxo Bank team run by former Tour de France winner Bjarne Riis will centre its hopes for victory on next month's race on Schleck brothers Andy and Frank, and powerful Swiss rider Fabian Cancellara.
And Riis believes Saxo Bank, who won the Tour last year with Spaniard Carlos Sastre under their former name of CSC, can dominate from start to finish.
Cancellara, who won the Tour of Switzerland on Sunday, is among the riders who could take the yellow jersey as of the first stage time trial in Monaco on July 4.
Andy Schleck, the winner of the Tour's white jersey - for the best placed rider aged 25 and under - will then spearhead the quality-packed Danish team's bid for the coveted yellow jersey.
The three riders were among the nine-man team announced by Riis on Monday.
"Just like the past couple of years, it has been a very difficult decision because there have been several excellent riders in our consideration for the nine spots for the Tour," said team owner Riis. "... now we have picked nine riders which together form an extremely strong lineup which could help dominating the course from the beginning to the end.
"With Fabian in peak shape it is clear that we have a perfect chance of taking the yellow jersey from the start and there is absolutely no doubt that this is what we are here for. At the same time, we have a homogeneous and powerful team for the team time trial and it should form the foundation for our efforts in the overall standings.
"In Frank and Andy Schleck, we have two super-powerful cards to play and the rest of the guys will be able to give them the right support. We believe in a fantastic Tour de France for Team Saxo Bank."
Seven of the team's nine riders competed at last year's Tour. The two new arrivals are Dane Chris Anker Sorensen and Swede Gustav Larsson, who won Olympic time trial silver, behind Cancellara, in Beijing last year.
Sastre has since moved on to the Cervelo team, as did Volodymyr Gustov.
Team:
Andy Schleck (Lux), Frank Schleck (Lux), Fabian Cancellara (Swi), Stuart O'Grady (Aus), Jens Voigt (Ger), Nicki Sorensen (Den), Chris Anker Sorensen (Den), Gustav Larsson (Swe), Kurt-Asle Arvesen (Nor).
By AFP
Fabian Cancellara will look to win the Tour's first yellow jersey for Saxo Bank (AFP/Getty Images)
The Saxo Bank team run by former Tour de France winner Bjarne Riis will centre its hopes for victory on next month's race on Schleck brothers Andy and Frank, and powerful Swiss rider Fabian Cancellara.
And Riis believes Saxo Bank, who won the Tour last year with Spaniard Carlos Sastre under their former name of CSC, can dominate from start to finish.
Cancellara, who won the Tour of Switzerland on Sunday, is among the riders who could take the yellow jersey as of the first stage time trial in Monaco on July 4.
Andy Schleck, the winner of the Tour's white jersey - for the best placed rider aged 25 and under - will then spearhead the quality-packed Danish team's bid for the coveted yellow jersey.
The three riders were among the nine-man team announced by Riis on Monday.
"Just like the past couple of years, it has been a very difficult decision because there have been several excellent riders in our consideration for the nine spots for the Tour," said team owner Riis. "... now we have picked nine riders which together form an extremely strong lineup which could help dominating the course from the beginning to the end.
"With Fabian in peak shape it is clear that we have a perfect chance of taking the yellow jersey from the start and there is absolutely no doubt that this is what we are here for. At the same time, we have a homogeneous and powerful team for the team time trial and it should form the foundation for our efforts in the overall standings.
"In Frank and Andy Schleck, we have two super-powerful cards to play and the rest of the guys will be able to give them the right support. We believe in a fantastic Tour de France for Team Saxo Bank."
Seven of the team's nine riders competed at last year's Tour. The two new arrivals are Dane Chris Anker Sorensen and Swede Gustav Larsson, who won Olympic time trial silver, behind Cancellara, in Beijing last year.
Sastre has since moved on to the Cervelo team, as did Volodymyr Gustov.
Team:
Andy Schleck (Lux), Frank Schleck (Lux), Fabian Cancellara (Swi), Stuart O'Grady (Aus), Jens Voigt (Ger), Nicki Sorensen (Den), Chris Anker Sorensen (Den), Gustav Larsson (Swe), Kurt-Asle Arvesen (Nor).
Friday, June 19, 2009
Branford Road Race Course
I live in Branford- hey, I live on the course- so I thought I'd write up a review of the race course.
Mile 1- This is a fast mile that is a net downhill. From the start on the side of the green, the road looks, and largely is, flat, but it's flat with a slight downhill bent to it. Because of the number of people in the race, it's a very fast start from those in front and a little bit slower for people not in the first ten or fifteen rows. But the tendency is to really take out this first mile, and that's a mistake.
It's OK to run right down the middle of the road here. There's no advantage to hugging the left hand-side of the road.
As you pass the Connecticut National Guard armory on the left, the road dips sharply downhill for a short distance as you go under the train overpass. Then it's a longer, shallower uphill that takes you over a short bridge that spans the Branford River. As you head over that bridge, get to left and start hugging it
You'll follow a left-hand bend and the road will be basically flat, with shorter sight-lines. You'll continue down the road, which has a slight bend to it for the rest of the first mile, finally coming up to a three way intersection. You bear left and just past the intersection is the mile 1 mark. This mile or the second one will probably be your fastest.
MIle 2- Another fast mile. The will bend towards the left here and you'll be running a shallow downhill almost at once. You can get a nice pace going here without pushing too hard, but the temptation will be to let it all out, which you should avoid. It continues to be downhill until you reach the Elk's club, and then it ticks back up, and you climb through a right-hand bend. At this point if it's sunny, it will be hot and there's no shade until you get in Mile 4. The road will continue a slight uphill bent until you hit the second to last house on the left. Then it's downhill again, and you'll see some separation develop as you head towards Lenny's.
Just past Lenny's there a left-hand bend to the road and you want to hug the left-hand side of the road. As you go through the bend, you're face with the strongest uphill of the course, but it isn't long and you should definitely power through it at full-speed. Then it's downhill to another left-hand bend and you're on the seawall. Hug the left-hand bend, then move to the right side of the road.
It's usually windy along the seawall. On most days the wind will be at your back, but it may also blow in off the water or be in your face. It's a good place to be in a group. The road is pretty flat here and fast, but again, keep it under control. Shortly after the beach ends, you'll go through mile 2.
Mile 3- The road continues to be pretty flat until you hang a right-hand turn on ninth avenue. Then road twists around to the left and you'll be running downhill for a short distance, then after a brick house on the right you'll break out and be back along the beach. Warning: people really start to push here, looking for separation. Don't get sucked in, because the hardest part of the course is coming up.
This is a really nice area of the course- nice houses on the left (private) beach on the right. But then you'll see the road ahead take an uphill left-turn that doesn't look that bad until you're through the turn.
There it is- the worst hill on the course. It looks long because it's a straight uphill shot- it's long enough but looks longer than it really is. And it's steep.
Get over it. Don't let the hill discourage you, and don't push it out too hard. If you blow yourself up on this hill, your race is over, because you still have almost half the race to run. Just be calm and patient up the hill, try to stay with the people around you, and work your way to the right. There's a right-hand turn at the top of the hill, cross the road and get back on the left-hand side.
When you crest the hill, you'll still be running on a flat-slight uphill. But as soon as you see the downhill, hit this hard. It's a long, straight downhill and if you've managed the uphill right here's your chance to separate from the people around you. Really work the downhill. At the bottom you'll take a left-turn, then a second left turn and your on Pine Orchard and past the 3 mile mark.
Mile 4- Mile 4 starts with a short, fairly flat section and then a long, relatively gradual uphill. This part of the race is shaded and if there is wind, it will be diminished as you're running through the trees. Although this is an uphill section, you'll really need to run it like it was flat. Partially because it's a shallow uphill at first and partially because now you're getting into the later stages of the race. I run this road all the time and you can maintain your normal pace about 3/4 of the way up the hill without pushing too hard.
Then the hill ticks up a bit, but that part is short, you go into a downhill roller, and you'll see another train overpass ahead. That is a short uphill, but don't be surprised if the short uphill seems tough and you lose a little speed. Don't sweat it, because you're about to get a long downhill. Stay to the left going over the bridge because the road will bend that way and take full advantage of the longest downhill on the course. It's a strong downhill initially that's straight with a long sight-line.
You have to take advantage of the downhill here, because of it's length and because the 5th mile is not as fast as you might think it is.
At the bottom of the steep part of the hill you'll pass a side street on your right and while the road does flatten out, it's still downhill. You'll run past my house, continue on a sharper downhill and see an uphill in front of you. Power through this. The hill is short but a little bit steep, however there's a big reward after you crest. The four mile-mark and a water station are part of the way up the hill.
Mile 5- After cresting the hill, you'll hang a left, so stay left. Around the bend it's flat for a short period and then you get another fast downhill. Use it !
The road will bend to the right and you'll being hanging a right at the armory, so after you come through the turn on the hill, work your way to the right. Don't hammer the downhill but work it hard, because the rest of the race will be an uphill. At the bottom of the steep downhill, the road will flatten out but you can maintain a great pace all the way to the turn. You'll also break out of any last bit shade, although you've probably lost that as of the end of Mile 4.
You'll have a long sight-line as well. You'll see people come back to you a little as they exit the steepest part of the downhill while you're still on. Don't let that lull you.
It looks flat, but basically it's uphill to the left hand-turn that takes you to the finish.
You have to run hard as you can after you make the turn. There will be crowds here and then stretch back to the final turn will be longer than think, especially because the starting line is part of the way down the street and you run past it. You'll probably be tempted to save something for the final turn and push to the finish, but you really have to gauge the people around you before deciding on when to make a move.
Finally, you'll reach that left-hand turn onto Main Street. The finish line will probably be just a little farther away than you remember it being. This is a flat finish, so if you've left anything in the tank you can really open it up here.
And that's it !
Mile 1- This is a fast mile that is a net downhill. From the start on the side of the green, the road looks, and largely is, flat, but it's flat with a slight downhill bent to it. Because of the number of people in the race, it's a very fast start from those in front and a little bit slower for people not in the first ten or fifteen rows. But the tendency is to really take out this first mile, and that's a mistake.
It's OK to run right down the middle of the road here. There's no advantage to hugging the left hand-side of the road.
As you pass the Connecticut National Guard armory on the left, the road dips sharply downhill for a short distance as you go under the train overpass. Then it's a longer, shallower uphill that takes you over a short bridge that spans the Branford River. As you head over that bridge, get to left and start hugging it
You'll follow a left-hand bend and the road will be basically flat, with shorter sight-lines. You'll continue down the road, which has a slight bend to it for the rest of the first mile, finally coming up to a three way intersection. You bear left and just past the intersection is the mile 1 mark. This mile or the second one will probably be your fastest.
MIle 2- Another fast mile. The will bend towards the left here and you'll be running a shallow downhill almost at once. You can get a nice pace going here without pushing too hard, but the temptation will be to let it all out, which you should avoid. It continues to be downhill until you reach the Elk's club, and then it ticks back up, and you climb through a right-hand bend. At this point if it's sunny, it will be hot and there's no shade until you get in Mile 4. The road will continue a slight uphill bent until you hit the second to last house on the left. Then it's downhill again, and you'll see some separation develop as you head towards Lenny's.
Just past Lenny's there a left-hand bend to the road and you want to hug the left-hand side of the road. As you go through the bend, you're face with the strongest uphill of the course, but it isn't long and you should definitely power through it at full-speed. Then it's downhill to another left-hand bend and you're on the seawall. Hug the left-hand bend, then move to the right side of the road.
It's usually windy along the seawall. On most days the wind will be at your back, but it may also blow in off the water or be in your face. It's a good place to be in a group. The road is pretty flat here and fast, but again, keep it under control. Shortly after the beach ends, you'll go through mile 2.
Mile 3- The road continues to be pretty flat until you hang a right-hand turn on ninth avenue. Then road twists around to the left and you'll be running downhill for a short distance, then after a brick house on the right you'll break out and be back along the beach. Warning: people really start to push here, looking for separation. Don't get sucked in, because the hardest part of the course is coming up.
This is a really nice area of the course- nice houses on the left (private) beach on the right. But then you'll see the road ahead take an uphill left-turn that doesn't look that bad until you're through the turn.
There it is- the worst hill on the course. It looks long because it's a straight uphill shot- it's long enough but looks longer than it really is. And it's steep.
Get over it. Don't let the hill discourage you, and don't push it out too hard. If you blow yourself up on this hill, your race is over, because you still have almost half the race to run. Just be calm and patient up the hill, try to stay with the people around you, and work your way to the right. There's a right-hand turn at the top of the hill, cross the road and get back on the left-hand side.
When you crest the hill, you'll still be running on a flat-slight uphill. But as soon as you see the downhill, hit this hard. It's a long, straight downhill and if you've managed the uphill right here's your chance to separate from the people around you. Really work the downhill. At the bottom you'll take a left-turn, then a second left turn and your on Pine Orchard and past the 3 mile mark.
Mile 4- Mile 4 starts with a short, fairly flat section and then a long, relatively gradual uphill. This part of the race is shaded and if there is wind, it will be diminished as you're running through the trees. Although this is an uphill section, you'll really need to run it like it was flat. Partially because it's a shallow uphill at first and partially because now you're getting into the later stages of the race. I run this road all the time and you can maintain your normal pace about 3/4 of the way up the hill without pushing too hard.
Then the hill ticks up a bit, but that part is short, you go into a downhill roller, and you'll see another train overpass ahead. That is a short uphill, but don't be surprised if the short uphill seems tough and you lose a little speed. Don't sweat it, because you're about to get a long downhill. Stay to the left going over the bridge because the road will bend that way and take full advantage of the longest downhill on the course. It's a strong downhill initially that's straight with a long sight-line.
You have to take advantage of the downhill here, because of it's length and because the 5th mile is not as fast as you might think it is.
At the bottom of the steep part of the hill you'll pass a side street on your right and while the road does flatten out, it's still downhill. You'll run past my house, continue on a sharper downhill and see an uphill in front of you. Power through this. The hill is short but a little bit steep, however there's a big reward after you crest. The four mile-mark and a water station are part of the way up the hill.
Mile 5- After cresting the hill, you'll hang a left, so stay left. Around the bend it's flat for a short period and then you get another fast downhill. Use it !
The road will bend to the right and you'll being hanging a right at the armory, so after you come through the turn on the hill, work your way to the right. Don't hammer the downhill but work it hard, because the rest of the race will be an uphill. At the bottom of the steep downhill, the road will flatten out but you can maintain a great pace all the way to the turn. You'll also break out of any last bit shade, although you've probably lost that as of the end of Mile 4.
You'll have a long sight-line as well. You'll see people come back to you a little as they exit the steepest part of the downhill while you're still on. Don't let that lull you.
It looks flat, but basically it's uphill to the left hand-turn that takes you to the finish.
You have to run hard as you can after you make the turn. There will be crowds here and then stretch back to the final turn will be longer than think, especially because the starting line is part of the way down the street and you run past it. You'll probably be tempted to save something for the final turn and push to the finish, but you really have to gauge the people around you before deciding on when to make a move.
Finally, you'll reach that left-hand turn onto Main Street. The finish line will probably be just a little farther away than you remember it being. This is a flat finish, so if you've left anything in the tank you can really open it up here.
And that's it !
Sunday, June 14, 2009
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.
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.
Karma- Which I don't believe in
As often happens on my day off, I was late getting home from work.
Actually, we had a New Haven Road Race Board meeting Friday morning, which are held at the Fire Academy, which is about 5 minutes from UNH (counting the lights). So I stopped in for a few minutes to take care of the insurance for the USATF-CT JO meet. 90 minutes later I was actually on my way home.
By a few minutes after 11:00 I was home, the cats had been fed, and I was actually dressed to run for 45 minutes as a warmup to my ride- scheduled for 3 hours, but I already knew I was only going to be able to make 50. It was my birthday, and I had things to do. But I stopped long enough to pay a bill online, which is a pretty quick thing, then I headed out.
It was still foggy and misting as I started running the opposite way on the Branford Road Race course. I'd crested the hill (the downhill between 3 and 4 on the course), and was headed down (the uphill on the course in that mile). Suddenly, about 5 seconds ahead of where I was there was a weird cracking noise, followed almost immediately by a tree branch crashing down across the side of the road I was running on.
It was about 8 feet long and at its widest, as big around as my calf. Not huge, but it would have been enough to brain me or at least knock me down.
I'd been aggravated about getting what I considered a late start to my workout.
Not anymore... that's my foot next to one piece.
Actually, we had a New Haven Road Race Board meeting Friday morning, which are held at the Fire Academy, which is about 5 minutes from UNH (counting the lights). So I stopped in for a few minutes to take care of the insurance for the USATF-CT JO meet. 90 minutes later I was actually on my way home.
By a few minutes after 11:00 I was home, the cats had been fed, and I was actually dressed to run for 45 minutes as a warmup to my ride- scheduled for 3 hours, but I already knew I was only going to be able to make 50. It was my birthday, and I had things to do. But I stopped long enough to pay a bill online, which is a pretty quick thing, then I headed out.
It was still foggy and misting as I started running the opposite way on the Branford Road Race course. I'd crested the hill (the downhill between 3 and 4 on the course), and was headed down (the uphill on the course in that mile). Suddenly, about 5 seconds ahead of where I was there was a weird cracking noise, followed almost immediately by a tree branch crashing down across the side of the road I was running on.
It was about 8 feet long and at its widest, as big around as my calf. Not huge, but it would have been enough to brain me or at least knock me down.
I'd been aggravated about getting what I considered a late start to my workout.
Not anymore... that's my foot next to one piece.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Never Let This Happen to Your iPhone
I've heard about it, seen it on the internet, but I never expected it to happen to me:
On the plus side the screen can be replaced and I took this picture with my other iPhone (work).
On the plus side the screen can be replaced and I took this picture with my other iPhone (work).
My 2:24 Marathon in April
You might find it odd that after running a stunning 2:24 marathon back in April, I didn't tell a single person.
That's because of course I didn't run a 2:24 marathon. Except on paper. I received the following email from JB (John Bysiewicz) today:
Alan,
did you have anything to do with this marathon? You are in the results.
John
and the attached results (click for the full size image):
If you can't read them (not sure how they will size) you'll see Ian Frankel and I ran 2:24s (go us!), Jim Zoldy ran a 2:20 (awesome, Jim !), and Chris Schulten (now representing Germany) ran a blistering 2:17.
Also, if I was within 2 minutes of Larisa there is no way I'd let her beat me after the way she put, what was it, 12 minutes on me at Mystic in 2006 after using me as a windshield early in the race.
Apparently someone was using these bogus results to try and get elite treatment. I'm not going to identify the athlete except to say it wasn't anyone I mentioned.
And hey, thanks, I always wanted to break 2:30!
That's because of course I didn't run a 2:24 marathon. Except on paper. I received the following email from JB (John Bysiewicz) today:
Alan,
did you have anything to do with this marathon? You are in the results.
John
and the attached results (click for the full size image):
If you can't read them (not sure how they will size) you'll see Ian Frankel and I ran 2:24s (go us!), Jim Zoldy ran a 2:20 (awesome, Jim !), and Chris Schulten (now representing Germany) ran a blistering 2:17.
Also, if I was within 2 minutes of Larisa there is no way I'd let her beat me after the way she put, what was it, 12 minutes on me at Mystic in 2006 after using me as a windshield early in the race.
Apparently someone was using these bogus results to try and get elite treatment. I'm not going to identify the athlete except to say it wasn't anyone I mentioned.
And hey, thanks, I always wanted to break 2:30!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Finding My Center- In the Water !
It's pretty clear I'm not always comfortable in the water. And yet, today, while swimming 2000 yards worth of ladders- I know 2000 yards is a lot for me and is probably an off-day in the pool for many triathletes, I had something really strange happen.
I swam a set of 200-250-300-300-250-200 at race pace with 50 in between each. I was in the 250 on the downhill side of the ladder on the third laps, and suddenly...
I actually felt good. My rhythm was good, my body roll was steady, I was reaching out and grabbing the water and pulling down and not having a problem on that breath every other left stroke...
I'd found my center. Maybe not my emotional center in the water, but at least the physical axial one. I was calm, I was fluid (for me), everything felt good.
Of course, it didn't last that long, and the water is still a place that's defined by my struggle to overcome it rather than my willingness to interact with it. I understand that, I know that as long as I seek an antagonist relationship with the water, I'm going to get one. Nevertheless, for just a moment, I grapsed what it must feel like to be a swimmer.
Maybe that, and not a certain speed or even a certain stroke, that should be my goal...
I swam a set of 200-250-300-300-250-200 at race pace with 50 in between each. I was in the 250 on the downhill side of the ladder on the third laps, and suddenly...
I actually felt good. My rhythm was good, my body roll was steady, I was reaching out and grabbing the water and pulling down and not having a problem on that breath every other left stroke...
I'd found my center. Maybe not my emotional center in the water, but at least the physical axial one. I was calm, I was fluid (for me), everything felt good.
Of course, it didn't last that long, and the water is still a place that's defined by my struggle to overcome it rather than my willingness to interact with it. I understand that, I know that as long as I seek an antagonist relationship with the water, I'm going to get one. Nevertheless, for just a moment, I grapsed what it must feel like to be a swimmer.
Maybe that, and not a certain speed or even a certain stroke, that should be my goal...
Saturday, June 06, 2009
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...
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...
Barely Surviving my First Open Water Swim of the Season
For someone who has a blog mostly as a diary of my racing, writing a post like this, where I reveal a truly asshat embarrassing moment, is probably not what I had in mind. But if anyone can take anything away from me being a complete and total jackass, please do.
My swimming has come a long way, and I spent a decent amount of time swimming this winter, although as always when the spring comes and duathlon season starts it takes a back seat to running and biking.
Margit encouraged me to join the team for an open water swim at Lake Quannapaug (sp) last Monday night. I hadn't been in the water for three weeks, was the last person to get there, the water was way too cold for my tastes, and I started out chasing everyone. Also, I'd done upper-body strength training that morning.
I have a real mental block about chasing people in the water. My overall lack of experience swimming with other people- I never swim with anyone else in the pool- makes for a real exaggeration in my mind as to how far behind I am, and I have a tendency to start to panic. I'm usually able to settle down in races, where there are always people around me, but when I'm all alone and last, I start looking up, which is not a good thing for me to do.
I do most of my swimming at LA Fitness. The pool is full-length, but it's 3.5 feet deep, warm, and the water is crystal clear. Lake Q is about 8 feet deep (well, I think about 15 feet at it's deepest point) and almost as dark as night. On the rare occasions when you can see the plants tickling your hands and feet, you wish you couldn't.
The first few strokes I took were great. They felt really good, my breathing, which always seems to suffer in the late spring when we have bad pollen since that time I had the ammonia poisoning, felt good.
And then bam, it all hit me. I started thinking. About how they think it's the cold water that kills most triathletes in the swim, some weird-electromechanical fartup with the human heart- for frak's sake people, please stop re-tweeting this same goddamned reheated article, it was one study but I've read ten articles based on it. Thinking about how far behind I am. About how my first open-water swim is always a total disaster and I have to turn around, head back to shore, and start over a second time.
The bottom line in all this is that while I'm not claustrophobic- I'm the guy that will crawl under a coach that's 3 millimeters higher than my ass sticks up and wait twenty minutes just to put a good scare it someone when they sit down (and the couch sags to zero millimeters above my backside)- I'm clearly claustrophobic in the water. I can't hear, I can't see, I have no sense of distance. Oh, my googles fogged up and I could not see anything, did I mention that ?
I get over it. I've been trapped on the wrong side of the same lake in thunderstorms. I've been out in the ocean when the tailbits of the hurricane starting rolling into the bay and I'ms up against the rockwall.
I've done seven ironmans. Margit reminded me of that later.
I wouldn't stop. I was lifeguard swimming to the group, but i wouldn't stop, wouldn't just turn around. However, when we reached our first stopping point, I was one of two people who'd had enough and starting swimming back.
And that's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of it, but even though I was wearing a wetsuit, I wasn't sure I was going to make it back. I felt like I was on the edge of drowning out there, impossibly far from any shore. I kept fighting to get to the beach, stopping every thirty seconds or so. I was as panicked as a wild animal and I couldn't control it. My heart rate was about 200 hundred, my breathing was burning and painful. My legs were on the verge of cramping the entire time. Finally, I did make it far enough to stand up waist deep in water, seeing stars, and I stumbled onto the shore and sat down on the beach, my feet in the water.
I waited about five minutes. I even closed my eyes and just listened to the water, trying to find a calm place inside myself, my center. Anyone who knows me is probably laughing. I have no calm center. Or I do, but I'll never admit it.
I got back in and started swimming. I knew if I went back to the car, threw my wetsuit in the trunk, and went home angry, it would be like this again the next time. I got a decent seven or eight minutes of swimming in, even got passed by a couple of teammates that were swimming back in and held on to a steady breathing pace, a good stroke.
I was spent like never before when I got out, and I was embarrassed enough not to say anything.
Worst first open water swim ever.
I'm over it. I think psychiatrists are great people, but I don't think talking about my claustrophobia in the water would help me. There's no a-ha moment where I realise why I'm afraid of the water and the feeling melts away. I am uncomfortable in the water because things like this happen to me. The flip side ? It's stupid. I've done seven ironmans. I even did a few of them well. I can swim. And Monday night proved to me that even at my most self-challenged, my stubbornness is much stronger than my fear. I was insane with panic, no question. I also am still here (thanks, wetsuit).
It was a disappointing low in what otherwise has been two weeks of great training...
Once again, the first chance for me to swim in the open water and I make the least of it. As I said, jackass. I am so much better of a swimmer than my first ironman, when I literally was not sure I would survive the swim. Literally. Wasn't sure I was going to survive.
I'm a way better swimmer than that guy.
Just not last Monday night.
My swimming has come a long way, and I spent a decent amount of time swimming this winter, although as always when the spring comes and duathlon season starts it takes a back seat to running and biking.
Margit encouraged me to join the team for an open water swim at Lake Quannapaug (sp) last Monday night. I hadn't been in the water for three weeks, was the last person to get there, the water was way too cold for my tastes, and I started out chasing everyone. Also, I'd done upper-body strength training that morning.
I have a real mental block about chasing people in the water. My overall lack of experience swimming with other people- I never swim with anyone else in the pool- makes for a real exaggeration in my mind as to how far behind I am, and I have a tendency to start to panic. I'm usually able to settle down in races, where there are always people around me, but when I'm all alone and last, I start looking up, which is not a good thing for me to do.
I do most of my swimming at LA Fitness. The pool is full-length, but it's 3.5 feet deep, warm, and the water is crystal clear. Lake Q is about 8 feet deep (well, I think about 15 feet at it's deepest point) and almost as dark as night. On the rare occasions when you can see the plants tickling your hands and feet, you wish you couldn't.
The first few strokes I took were great. They felt really good, my breathing, which always seems to suffer in the late spring when we have bad pollen since that time I had the ammonia poisoning, felt good.
And then bam, it all hit me. I started thinking. About how they think it's the cold water that kills most triathletes in the swim, some weird-electromechanical fartup with the human heart- for frak's sake people, please stop re-tweeting this same goddamned reheated article, it was one study but I've read ten articles based on it. Thinking about how far behind I am. About how my first open-water swim is always a total disaster and I have to turn around, head back to shore, and start over a second time.
The bottom line in all this is that while I'm not claustrophobic- I'm the guy that will crawl under a coach that's 3 millimeters higher than my ass sticks up and wait twenty minutes just to put a good scare it someone when they sit down (and the couch sags to zero millimeters above my backside)- I'm clearly claustrophobic in the water. I can't hear, I can't see, I have no sense of distance. Oh, my googles fogged up and I could not see anything, did I mention that ?
I get over it. I've been trapped on the wrong side of the same lake in thunderstorms. I've been out in the ocean when the tailbits of the hurricane starting rolling into the bay and I'ms up against the rockwall.
I've done seven ironmans. Margit reminded me of that later.
I wouldn't stop. I was lifeguard swimming to the group, but i wouldn't stop, wouldn't just turn around. However, when we reached our first stopping point, I was one of two people who'd had enough and starting swimming back.
And that's when it all fell apart.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of it, but even though I was wearing a wetsuit, I wasn't sure I was going to make it back. I felt like I was on the edge of drowning out there, impossibly far from any shore. I kept fighting to get to the beach, stopping every thirty seconds or so. I was as panicked as a wild animal and I couldn't control it. My heart rate was about 200 hundred, my breathing was burning and painful. My legs were on the verge of cramping the entire time. Finally, I did make it far enough to stand up waist deep in water, seeing stars, and I stumbled onto the shore and sat down on the beach, my feet in the water.
I waited about five minutes. I even closed my eyes and just listened to the water, trying to find a calm place inside myself, my center. Anyone who knows me is probably laughing. I have no calm center. Or I do, but I'll never admit it.
I got back in and started swimming. I knew if I went back to the car, threw my wetsuit in the trunk, and went home angry, it would be like this again the next time. I got a decent seven or eight minutes of swimming in, even got passed by a couple of teammates that were swimming back in and held on to a steady breathing pace, a good stroke.
I was spent like never before when I got out, and I was embarrassed enough not to say anything.
Worst first open water swim ever.
I'm over it. I think psychiatrists are great people, but I don't think talking about my claustrophobia in the water would help me. There's no a-ha moment where I realise why I'm afraid of the water and the feeling melts away. I am uncomfortable in the water because things like this happen to me. The flip side ? It's stupid. I've done seven ironmans. I even did a few of them well. I can swim. And Monday night proved to me that even at my most self-challenged, my stubbornness is much stronger than my fear. I was insane with panic, no question. I also am still here (thanks, wetsuit).
It was a disappointing low in what otherwise has been two weeks of great training...
Once again, the first chance for me to swim in the open water and I make the least of it. As I said, jackass. I am so much better of a swimmer than my first ironman, when I literally was not sure I would survive the swim. Literally. Wasn't sure I was going to survive.
I'm a way better swimmer than that guy.
Just not last Monday night.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
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...
'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...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Grading the Durham 10K
We're trying something new here- providing some format to the race reporting.
Race Importance (to my season)- B+
This race is meaningless to any objectives I have. But I want to run well here.
Race Course- A
This is a great course. The early hill divides the wheat from the chaff, and the route in the first mile is the same one the parade has just gone on, so there are plenty of spectators. In fact, the whole course has spectators on it except for the fifth mile, there are plenty of water stops, and this is one challenging course, with a nice combination of short hard and longer gradual hills, some nice downhills, and good sightlines when you're chasing the faster people.
Race Organization- B+
Well organised. Started on time, awards were timely. Volunteers were great. Ken Platt is an awesome timer, which is why things went pretty well considering that the 'd-chip' was used and a number of people weren't recorded crossing the finish line, due to the extremely fragile nature of the 'chip'. Because the Lions (I think) sell food after the race, the post race food is never as good as it ought to be for a hard race. The entry price is low so I wouldn't mention this except that burgers and hot dogs don't do it for me. As a counter-balance, they have an awesome raffle and despite the complaints here, I love this race and recommend it to everyone.
My performance- A-
My goal was to finish at least third. I ran a very solid race, but I wonder- if my goal had been to finish second would I have found 4 seconds a mile...
Race Importance (to my season)- B+
This race is meaningless to any objectives I have. But I want to run well here.
Race Course- A
This is a great course. The early hill divides the wheat from the chaff, and the route in the first mile is the same one the parade has just gone on, so there are plenty of spectators. In fact, the whole course has spectators on it except for the fifth mile, there are plenty of water stops, and this is one challenging course, with a nice combination of short hard and longer gradual hills, some nice downhills, and good sightlines when you're chasing the faster people.
Race Organization- B+
Well organised. Started on time, awards were timely. Volunteers were great. Ken Platt is an awesome timer, which is why things went pretty well considering that the 'd-chip' was used and a number of people weren't recorded crossing the finish line, due to the extremely fragile nature of the 'chip'. Because the Lions (I think) sell food after the race, the post race food is never as good as it ought to be for a hard race. The entry price is low so I wouldn't mention this except that burgers and hot dogs don't do it for me. As a counter-balance, they have an awesome raffle and despite the complaints here, I love this race and recommend it to everyone.
My performance- A-
My goal was to finish at least third. I ran a very solid race, but I wonder- if my goal had been to finish second would I have found 4 seconds a mile...
Grading the Dave Yurgaitis 10K at Lake Compounce
Race Importance (to my season)- B
This would be a C, but it was a state championship and I was there as our #2 runner. Yikes !
Race Course- B
This was a solid course. Except for the big hill in the first and last half mile, the course is a set of gradual up and downhill slopes. The course is an out and back and it's easy to follow. But with the natural beauty of the area it would be hard not to design a nicer looking course. You'd just have to avoid running it through an office park. Still, it's a solid course and adequate for a championship. It also take advantage of a good venue.
Race Organization- A-
Well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing I know of, decent food post race. I didn't stay for the awards so I don't know how that part of the race went, so I'll hold off giving an A. Volunteers and water stops well-done.
My performance- B
After throwing up that 18:23 in the 5K, I was worried about repeating my Durham 10K of 2007, where I went 38+. Instead I was just 2 seconds off last year. I'll take that.
This would be a C, but it was a state championship and I was there as our #2 runner. Yikes !
Race Course- B
This was a solid course. Except for the big hill in the first and last half mile, the course is a set of gradual up and downhill slopes. The course is an out and back and it's easy to follow. But with the natural beauty of the area it would be hard not to design a nicer looking course. You'd just have to avoid running it through an office park. Still, it's a solid course and adequate for a championship. It also take advantage of a good venue.
Race Organization- A-
Well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing I know of, decent food post race. I didn't stay for the awards so I don't know how that part of the race went, so I'll hold off giving an A. Volunteers and water stops well-done.
My performance- B
After throwing up that 18:23 in the 5K, I was worried about repeating my Durham 10K of 2007, where I went 38+. Instead I was just 2 seconds off last year. I'll take that.
Grading the Lilac 5K (Rochester)
Race Importance (to my season)- C
The grade here would be a B if it had been the 10K. 800 people or not, the 5K is the ugly step-child of the Lilac Festival.
Race Course- A-
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Theme here with Rochester races ? It's a fast course, with a long opening sloping downhill, about 5 or six turns total and a nice uphill in the last 3/4 miles or so. Very fair course.
Race Organization- A-
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing. Lots of volunteers and spectators. Food was a little pedestrian and they only went one deep in the age groups, which is kind of weak in an 800 person race and totally at odds with the 10K, where they give awards to the top 5% or something (three minimum).
My performance- B
I ran a pretty good race on tired legs, but I really blew the strategy in the last 4/10th of a mile and cost myself the age group win. Bad me.
The grade here would be a B if it had been the 10K. 800 people or not, the 5K is the ugly step-child of the Lilac Festival.
Race Course- A-
This was a great course. Closed to traffic, easy to navigate, impossible to get lost on. Theme here with Rochester races ? It's a fast course, with a long opening sloping downhill, about 5 or six turns total and a nice uphill in the last 3/4 miles or so. Very fair course.
Race Organization- A-
Very well organised. Started on time, no problems with timing. Lots of volunteers and spectators. Food was a little pedestrian and they only went one deep in the age groups, which is kind of weak in an 800 person race and totally at odds with the 10K, where they give awards to the top 5% or something (three minimum).
My performance- B
I ran a pretty good race on tired legs, but I really blew the strategy in the last 4/10th of a mile and cost myself the age group win. Bad me.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Durham 10K- Memorial Day
The Durham 10K is a race I really like to run. It's often been the tail end of a major spurt of racing like it was this year. I had a run of years at this race where I finished 2nd, 3rd, 5th three straight years, and 3rd again.
Someone asked me what I wanted to do this year and I told him I wanted to finish on the podium and that I'd take third place. Coming off a 10K the day before, and knowing my speed is not there yet, I figured that, like all races, it would depend on who showed up. It didn't matter. One of the other bonuses of the race is that Margit's aunt and uncle live in Durham, so we can drive up there, hand off Ian, and both run the race with no worries.
I didn't get the great warm-up that I was hoping for- some strides had to do. We also were using a new timing system. I'm not going to get into my feelings about the d-chip here in this post. I'll just say that the Champion-chip is a tried and true method of timing races.
I got in my strides and then we were off.
I love the start of this race. It's a family and community event, so, you get the excited kids and so on at the start, but then you climb this big hill out of the school, and it kicks the ass of everyone who isn't really competing for the top spots. The 4k and 10k also start at the same time from the same line, which I totally space on. There were four of us heading up the hill together, including one really big guy that, from the view I had of him the whole race, was a dead ringer for Eric Hodska, and the guy who I'd picked out and told Margit would easily win the race, Patrick Dooley from Durham.
We went down the other side of the hill and by the time we took the turn, I knew the two guys in front were gone and that there was no chance that I'd be seeing them for long. However, the Eric clone was holding a decent pace in front of me but he was so big that I knew I'd have a chance to counter his opening when we got to the hills. We final hit the second turn and were off the main round- there was some goofiness at the intersection with the State Trooper, but I ignored it as it didn't affect us. Then were were sloping around a bend and taking another turn and the sun came out and it was hot and humid, but now we were running downhill and I was starting to feel a rhythm. It was the first time this season that I felt like I was running well, like I really was in control, well, since Brian's anyway.
It's funny how you can forget so much of why you do what you do. I put a lot of time into training. Why do I train ? So I can race. Yeah, I love balling around local roads on my bike, a little out of my head sometimes, doing stupid things like racing cars and motorcycles because I just can't help myself, but some of it is drudge work, too. Getting up at 5:30 am to spin even though it's going to be a nice day out, squeezing 50 minutes of running into an hour of lunch... Then you get out there in a race and you've got your racing stride, and you're settled in almost where you want to be and you are running downhill and people are handing you water to dump on your head and it's a road you know and almost everyone in the race is chasing you and they aren't going to catch you.
When it feels good, it's such a simple, pure joy. Pain and all.
Then you're around the next turn and you give up on the leader for the second and final time and you see the 10K/4K split and the guy in second is headed right down the 4K turn and for a minute, the guy in third looks like he'll turn too...
But he doesn't. I'd raced against him before here at Durham, coming up short. He started up the first of the hills on the back part of the course (he'd been the one that, when we crested the very first hill, responded to another runner's comment that the first hill was out of the way with 'There's more than one hill ?'). It's a hard hill because it's probably 6% but long, and it gets steeper at the top. I avoided the sprinkler and did my best to keep my effort moderate while holding my ground. There are crowds all over this course and the local support for the race is incredible.
As someone who never looks back, it's also a great way for me to know who's chasing me. I know Charlie Iselin was right back there and who knew who else, but I could tell by the noise that we had a gap. I climbed, then descended, then repeated that, waiting for the 5K mark to really assess where I was and whether I had a shot at 2nd. We blew through that point in the race and we'd both slowed down a little. I was about ten seconds out of second, chasing this shirtless giant who runs with EH's stride and I was trying like hell just to be patient.
We took the big right hand turn at the back of the course and a short downhill gave way to the longest uphill of the course. I should have attacked him here, but with the giant downhill at the end of the climb, I felt it was tactically unadvisable. I was wrong. We went through four miles on the downhill and then I forced myself to take a cliff shot as we worked our way around the lollipop loop at the back of the course. I was neither closing nor losing ground and I'd determined not to even try anything until after 5 miles, given that I'd burned myself with an early move just a week ago.
When we turned back onto the course at around 5 miles, I thought I still had a good shot at closing the gap, but I would have to start pushing again. I'd been racing within my comfort zone- my racing comfort zone, protecting my 3rd place spot, nursing calves that were not thrilled about this much racing (and in 2007, I blew out my left calf as a result of this 10K just two weeks before Eagleman, costing me my next race and hobbling me for two week going into Eagleman, where I ran well, but not as well as I wanted to). As we crested the big hill in the last mile the guy ahead of me, Michael Maffei, played a single pitch and catch of a football with a kid on the side of the road. I considered doing the same thing, asking for the ball, because it would have been cool, but when I'm racing, I'm racing, and I'm not laid back enough for that. Should I be ? Probably.
Maybe it's OK to take yourself way too seriously if you know you're doing it...
I descended the backside of the hill and never let up the pressure. Mike was just being nice, but he said he felt pressured the whole way and really had to keep working. I'm not sure I believe him, because he put 8-10 seconds on me in the last 600 yards, but I ran my ass off through the finish line.
At 37:30, it was certainly nothing to brag about, although it was 59 seconds faster than two years ago, when I'd felt fine until the day after the race. Still it was a strong third, with the next runner a minute and sixteen seconds back. I'd made it in where I wanted. Margit took second in her age group. My son was having a ball with his great aunt, great uncle, and their neighbours. I got to hang with Charlie Iselin and his family- warm down with him and then talk for a while.
That's the formula- friends, family, and racing. It was the right exclamation point to ten days of racing.
Someone asked me what I wanted to do this year and I told him I wanted to finish on the podium and that I'd take third place. Coming off a 10K the day before, and knowing my speed is not there yet, I figured that, like all races, it would depend on who showed up. It didn't matter. One of the other bonuses of the race is that Margit's aunt and uncle live in Durham, so we can drive up there, hand off Ian, and both run the race with no worries.
I didn't get the great warm-up that I was hoping for- some strides had to do. We also were using a new timing system. I'm not going to get into my feelings about the d-chip here in this post. I'll just say that the Champion-chip is a tried and true method of timing races.
I got in my strides and then we were off.
I love the start of this race. It's a family and community event, so, you get the excited kids and so on at the start, but then you climb this big hill out of the school, and it kicks the ass of everyone who isn't really competing for the top spots. The 4k and 10k also start at the same time from the same line, which I totally space on. There were four of us heading up the hill together, including one really big guy that, from the view I had of him the whole race, was a dead ringer for Eric Hodska, and the guy who I'd picked out and told Margit would easily win the race, Patrick Dooley from Durham.
We went down the other side of the hill and by the time we took the turn, I knew the two guys in front were gone and that there was no chance that I'd be seeing them for long. However, the Eric clone was holding a decent pace in front of me but he was so big that I knew I'd have a chance to counter his opening when we got to the hills. We final hit the second turn and were off the main round- there was some goofiness at the intersection with the State Trooper, but I ignored it as it didn't affect us. Then were were sloping around a bend and taking another turn and the sun came out and it was hot and humid, but now we were running downhill and I was starting to feel a rhythm. It was the first time this season that I felt like I was running well, like I really was in control, well, since Brian's anyway.
It's funny how you can forget so much of why you do what you do. I put a lot of time into training. Why do I train ? So I can race. Yeah, I love balling around local roads on my bike, a little out of my head sometimes, doing stupid things like racing cars and motorcycles because I just can't help myself, but some of it is drudge work, too. Getting up at 5:30 am to spin even though it's going to be a nice day out, squeezing 50 minutes of running into an hour of lunch... Then you get out there in a race and you've got your racing stride, and you're settled in almost where you want to be and you are running downhill and people are handing you water to dump on your head and it's a road you know and almost everyone in the race is chasing you and they aren't going to catch you.
When it feels good, it's such a simple, pure joy. Pain and all.
Then you're around the next turn and you give up on the leader for the second and final time and you see the 10K/4K split and the guy in second is headed right down the 4K turn and for a minute, the guy in third looks like he'll turn too...
But he doesn't. I'd raced against him before here at Durham, coming up short. He started up the first of the hills on the back part of the course (he'd been the one that, when we crested the very first hill, responded to another runner's comment that the first hill was out of the way with 'There's more than one hill ?'). It's a hard hill because it's probably 6% but long, and it gets steeper at the top. I avoided the sprinkler and did my best to keep my effort moderate while holding my ground. There are crowds all over this course and the local support for the race is incredible.
As someone who never looks back, it's also a great way for me to know who's chasing me. I know Charlie Iselin was right back there and who knew who else, but I could tell by the noise that we had a gap. I climbed, then descended, then repeated that, waiting for the 5K mark to really assess where I was and whether I had a shot at 2nd. We blew through that point in the race and we'd both slowed down a little. I was about ten seconds out of second, chasing this shirtless giant who runs with EH's stride and I was trying like hell just to be patient.
We took the big right hand turn at the back of the course and a short downhill gave way to the longest uphill of the course. I should have attacked him here, but with the giant downhill at the end of the climb, I felt it was tactically unadvisable. I was wrong. We went through four miles on the downhill and then I forced myself to take a cliff shot as we worked our way around the lollipop loop at the back of the course. I was neither closing nor losing ground and I'd determined not to even try anything until after 5 miles, given that I'd burned myself with an early move just a week ago.
When we turned back onto the course at around 5 miles, I thought I still had a good shot at closing the gap, but I would have to start pushing again. I'd been racing within my comfort zone- my racing comfort zone, protecting my 3rd place spot, nursing calves that were not thrilled about this much racing (and in 2007, I blew out my left calf as a result of this 10K just two weeks before Eagleman, costing me my next race and hobbling me for two week going into Eagleman, where I ran well, but not as well as I wanted to). As we crested the big hill in the last mile the guy ahead of me, Michael Maffei, played a single pitch and catch of a football with a kid on the side of the road. I considered doing the same thing, asking for the ball, because it would have been cool, but when I'm racing, I'm racing, and I'm not laid back enough for that. Should I be ? Probably.
Maybe it's OK to take yourself way too seriously if you know you're doing it...
I descended the backside of the hill and never let up the pressure. Mike was just being nice, but he said he felt pressured the whole way and really had to keep working. I'm not sure I believe him, because he put 8-10 seconds on me in the last 600 yards, but I ran my ass off through the finish line.
At 37:30, it was certainly nothing to brag about, although it was 59 seconds faster than two years ago, when I'd felt fine until the day after the race. Still it was a strong third, with the next runner a minute and sixteen seconds back. I'd made it in where I wanted. Margit took second in her age group. My son was having a ball with his great aunt, great uncle, and their neighbours. I got to hang with Charlie Iselin and his family- warm down with him and then talk for a while.
That's the formula- friends, family, and racing. It was the right exclamation point to ten days of racing.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Lake Compounce 10K
The open half of my second double in two weeks was the Trisport Dave Yurgaitis 10K Memorial race. This race has been on my calendar for two years now because it was voted onto the USATF-CT calendar- including by me.
It's the sort of race that doesn't fit into my schedule. It's the day before a race I really want to run well every year- the Durham 10k. It's a haul from my house for 8AM. My own teammates don't like the location or timing of the race, and as a bonus, they kind of avoid it.
However, at the same time, it's a good race. The location may be unenviable for my team, but other teams are closer. There are some great runners that do run the race. The course is fair, and the advantage of the early start is an early finish. It also gives me a few more hours to recover for the next race, which is the next day. So the fact that I am going to get spanked and do not have to consult the results before leaving, that I'm missing a chance to do a long ride, none of it really matters.
I warmed up alone, getting a nice two mile run in which included the big hill on the course, which is at about a third of a mile and is, well, a significant hill.
I talked to George Buchanan for a while, found out he'd been doing trail races, did some strides, and then Wil Graustein got us started.
It was an older crowd- a lot of masters runners. So the start wasn't crazy. I tried to hang with George Buchanan. I was somewhere in the top 10 as we went up that first big hill. The EKG guys, including Jess Efrom, were behind me for some reason. I found out later they had been in Boston at a track meet, got home at midnight, drove up to Compounce at 5:30 AM and then found out their fifth guy had blew them off.
I was running pretty well, not blowing it up, but hanging in as best I can when I'm surrounded by people faster than me. Then after the first turn I heard this unmistakable cadence. Kind of a pitter-patter. Jim Zoldy. I said 'I'd know that cadence anywhere,' and he replied 'I don't want to talk right now'- he'd read my duathlon post. He went by, and headed on up to where George was. I ended up in a tangle of Hartford Track and Mohegan runners. That sorted itself out to the point that there were three of us running together. We took the cone at the turn-around and started back. I was still hanging in with the two of them. The EKG guys had long since passed us and were kind of toying with the course, running as a group, so I was back in 15th-16th place.
The course doesn't offer any big hills until after 5 miles, and I didn't want to try and attack stronger runners on the false flats we were running on. They eventually started pulling away and at four and a half miles I took a Cliff Shot and kept a steady pace.
As I passed 5 miles and climbed the big hill coming back, I heard someone closing on me, but I couldn't tell if it was a bike or a runner as I was hearing both sounds. I didn't look back.
As we crested the hill the baby stroller went by me, being pushed by Gregory McKirryher. He went by and thought, OK, probably a 5K runner putting on a big push or something. WRONG ! He beat me by eight seconds.
I should be really pissed a guy pushing a stroller beat me. But I'm not. He ran a better race, and to be honest, I ran a good race. Two seconds slower than last year, but I was coming off a much harder previous weekend of training- and I didn't skimp on the Saturday ride and run either- a two and a half hour brick. I was 17th overall and 7th in my age group, but I ran a good solid race. I didn't go ballistic early or blow-up late.
Better yet I was read for the Durham 10K the next day.
The truth is, after the 18:23 in Rochester the week before, I was prepared to have trouble breaking 38 minutes, and instead I'd run right around the same as last year. I was encourage that the larger running volume the last two weeks was paying off and that the speed, what little I have, might be in there someone...
Next: The Durham 10K
It's the sort of race that doesn't fit into my schedule. It's the day before a race I really want to run well every year- the Durham 10k. It's a haul from my house for 8AM. My own teammates don't like the location or timing of the race, and as a bonus, they kind of avoid it.
However, at the same time, it's a good race. The location may be unenviable for my team, but other teams are closer. There are some great runners that do run the race. The course is fair, and the advantage of the early start is an early finish. It also gives me a few more hours to recover for the next race, which is the next day. So the fact that I am going to get spanked and do not have to consult the results before leaving, that I'm missing a chance to do a long ride, none of it really matters.
I warmed up alone, getting a nice two mile run in which included the big hill on the course, which is at about a third of a mile and is, well, a significant hill.
I talked to George Buchanan for a while, found out he'd been doing trail races, did some strides, and then Wil Graustein got us started.
It was an older crowd- a lot of masters runners. So the start wasn't crazy. I tried to hang with George Buchanan. I was somewhere in the top 10 as we went up that first big hill. The EKG guys, including Jess Efrom, were behind me for some reason. I found out later they had been in Boston at a track meet, got home at midnight, drove up to Compounce at 5:30 AM and then found out their fifth guy had blew them off.
I was running pretty well, not blowing it up, but hanging in as best I can when I'm surrounded by people faster than me. Then after the first turn I heard this unmistakable cadence. Kind of a pitter-patter. Jim Zoldy. I said 'I'd know that cadence anywhere,' and he replied 'I don't want to talk right now'- he'd read my duathlon post. He went by, and headed on up to where George was. I ended up in a tangle of Hartford Track and Mohegan runners. That sorted itself out to the point that there were three of us running together. We took the cone at the turn-around and started back. I was still hanging in with the two of them. The EKG guys had long since passed us and were kind of toying with the course, running as a group, so I was back in 15th-16th place.
The course doesn't offer any big hills until after 5 miles, and I didn't want to try and attack stronger runners on the false flats we were running on. They eventually started pulling away and at four and a half miles I took a Cliff Shot and kept a steady pace.
As I passed 5 miles and climbed the big hill coming back, I heard someone closing on me, but I couldn't tell if it was a bike or a runner as I was hearing both sounds. I didn't look back.
As we crested the hill the baby stroller went by me, being pushed by Gregory McKirryher. He went by and thought, OK, probably a 5K runner putting on a big push or something. WRONG ! He beat me by eight seconds.
I should be really pissed a guy pushing a stroller beat me. But I'm not. He ran a better race, and to be honest, I ran a good race. Two seconds slower than last year, but I was coming off a much harder previous weekend of training- and I didn't skimp on the Saturday ride and run either- a two and a half hour brick. I was 17th overall and 7th in my age group, but I ran a good solid race. I didn't go ballistic early or blow-up late.
Better yet I was read for the Durham 10K the next day.
The truth is, after the 18:23 in Rochester the week before, I was prepared to have trouble breaking 38 minutes, and instead I'd run right around the same as last year. I was encourage that the larger running volume the last two weeks was paying off and that the speed, what little I have, might be in there someone...
Next: The Durham 10K
Friday, May 22, 2009
Lilac 5k
For the first time since last year, I found myself geared up for a double- the day after the formula one duathlon I was back, running the 5K at the Lilac, which is just a warm-up for the 10K.
I was not tired. Yes, we'd spent what seemed like the entire day after the race at the festival, at the pool in the hotel, and at the Play Museum (yes Virginia, there is a museum of play, and it's in Rochester). And yes, we got to the race late- it was 7:30 by the time I was registered and the race was at 8:00 am.
Still, I got in plenty of strides for my warm-up and was ready to go on what was a cold morning. It had been in the 70s and humid for the duathlon. It was now in the upper 40s. I lined up right in the front and waited for the gun.
That's right, we had a gun start- been a while if you don't count the cannon at the Ironman.
The race uses the first mile of the 10k course. This is pretty much a downhill mile, fast and straight, and spend the whole time running hard and and wondering when you are going to pay for the ease of the start.
One guy blew it up, kind of like the duathlon, then there was an A chase group and a B chase group. I was sort of in that. One of the other guys from the duathlon was there, Matt Kellman. He'd finished 4th, and outrun me on all three runs. We were back and forth in that first mile and went through at 5:34 and 5:36. Almost immediately after we turned a corner and started through a neighbourhood with nice wide streets. We were in a group of five people and I was being disciplined and sticking with the group.
It's always hard to run with a group. For me, it tends to feel easier when I'm with the group, and I worry that means that I'm not working hard enough, that I'm laying off, when in truth I'm appropriately moderating my effort so I can stay in the mix and have the chance to beat the guys I'm running with. We continued to all work with each other and three turns later we were back on that first mile, and paying for it because we were going uphill and into the wind.
I'd moved to the front of the group, away from the guy in my age group and the kid in the hard-soled track flats. With about 4/10th of a mile, I wanted to run away from everyone because I didn't want to get caught in a sprint with 4-5 unknowns. I was trying to establish dominance before the finish line.
This is almost always a mistake, like the guy that tries a breakaway sprint at 800 meters from the line in a stage race. I probably knew it was wrong when I did it.
I failed. The guy I really wanted to beat passed me with about 300 yards left and then it was all over. He told me after the race he just rode one of the kids in, or something like that, and he was right to do it too.
Still, he put just seven seconds into me, about what he outran me for a single mile the day before.
Then again, for the 5K they went one deep in 5 year age groups (the 10K is the big race), and I really wanted to bring home that medal. I was 14th out of about 850 people and was leaving empty handed. Oh wait, chocolate chip cookies...
Seven seconds. That's pretty disappointing.
I'll just have to go back next year and get it right.
I was not tired. Yes, we'd spent what seemed like the entire day after the race at the festival, at the pool in the hotel, and at the Play Museum (yes Virginia, there is a museum of play, and it's in Rochester). And yes, we got to the race late- it was 7:30 by the time I was registered and the race was at 8:00 am.
Still, I got in plenty of strides for my warm-up and was ready to go on what was a cold morning. It had been in the 70s and humid for the duathlon. It was now in the upper 40s. I lined up right in the front and waited for the gun.
That's right, we had a gun start- been a while if you don't count the cannon at the Ironman.
The race uses the first mile of the 10k course. This is pretty much a downhill mile, fast and straight, and spend the whole time running hard and and wondering when you are going to pay for the ease of the start.
One guy blew it up, kind of like the duathlon, then there was an A chase group and a B chase group. I was sort of in that. One of the other guys from the duathlon was there, Matt Kellman. He'd finished 4th, and outrun me on all three runs. We were back and forth in that first mile and went through at 5:34 and 5:36. Almost immediately after we turned a corner and started through a neighbourhood with nice wide streets. We were in a group of five people and I was being disciplined and sticking with the group.
It's always hard to run with a group. For me, it tends to feel easier when I'm with the group, and I worry that means that I'm not working hard enough, that I'm laying off, when in truth I'm appropriately moderating my effort so I can stay in the mix and have the chance to beat the guys I'm running with. We continued to all work with each other and three turns later we were back on that first mile, and paying for it because we were going uphill and into the wind.
I'd moved to the front of the group, away from the guy in my age group and the kid in the hard-soled track flats. With about 4/10th of a mile, I wanted to run away from everyone because I didn't want to get caught in a sprint with 4-5 unknowns. I was trying to establish dominance before the finish line.
This is almost always a mistake, like the guy that tries a breakaway sprint at 800 meters from the line in a stage race. I probably knew it was wrong when I did it.
I failed. The guy I really wanted to beat passed me with about 300 yards left and then it was all over. He told me after the race he just rode one of the kids in, or something like that, and he was right to do it too.
Still, he put just seven seconds into me, about what he outran me for a single mile the day before.
Then again, for the 5K they went one deep in 5 year age groups (the 10K is the big race), and I really wanted to bring home that medal. I was 14th out of about 850 people and was leaving empty handed. Oh wait, chocolate chip cookies...
Seven seconds. That's pretty disappointing.
I'll just have to go back next year and get it right.
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...
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...
Rochester Lilac Festival
I also posted Lilac Festival photos. And no, I am not a flower guy. Not that there's anything wrong with being a flower guy. Ah, whatever: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ironpunk/sets/72157618635607114/
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/
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, May 03, 2009
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 !
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.
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.
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