I had a two day run of crazy out on the local roads.
I'm not going to go into the blow by blow because anyone who rides knows the score. On Tuesday, I had a driver pull out in front of me without signaling or stopping, cut me off twice, stop short and try to run me down. Did I drop some f-bombs in there ? Yes, I did. In fact, I'm pretty certain the first invective after being cut off the led to the rest of my adventure.
The next night I went on a group ride. At one point, I was leading out two other riders by about 75 yards. We were riding on a quiet side road, and they were side by side. Should they probably have been single file ? Yes, sure.
The driver of the SUV who laid on the horn for about five seconds first slowed down ominously and then revved his engine and took a run at the other two cyclists. I didn't have to look. I know that sound.
Then he made a run at me. I did one of those head leans to get a visual, not turning my head because I tend to drift left when I do that. He buzzed me, nice and tight, rear view about 6 inches from my head as he went by, the dull heat of the vehicle oppressive on a muggy night.
I was pissed, and his window was open. What, even if he had any beef at all (which he'd forfeited by using his SUV as a weapon), had I done, except be out on the road ?
I let loose a real tirade and I followed him. At one point he considered stopping, but as Steve Surprise said, when he heard me use the phrase 'vehicular assault' he decided to just keep going.
Margit and I had an unhappy discussion afterwards because we have a difference of opinion on the matter. She thinks no matter what happens, you should just let it go. I appreciate that point of view. I agree that there are a lot of crazy people out there. As Coach Troy says in the Gates Pass ride 'it's just the nature of the beast' that some motorists are not going to give cyclists room or right of way and 'you just have to deal with it.'
At the same time, there's just something fundamentally wrong about letting people walk (or drive) all over you all the time. We have some great routes down here on the shoreline, but we really have some crappy drivers too, and on roads that are tight, winding, with poor sight lines and low speed limits.
Unquestionably, we have to do our part. The person riding in the road next to Steve the other night should have moved right as soon as they realised there was a car back. It's definitely up to cyclists to keep up good relations. But the five second horn blast and using his car to 'buzz' three cyclists is inexcusable, dangerous, and it's also illegal. And letting people cut you off with no response, which is certainly my number one issue with motorists- just yield the right of way to me when I have it- please! Don't cut me off turning onto a road I'm riding down in a straight line. Letting that go- if that doesn't tell that motorist that yes, that's the thing to do, what does it do ?
Nevertheless, I'm sick of all the drama out there. I don't want to be yelling and screaming at people and I certainly don't want a side view mirror in the side of the head.
I just want to ride.
Maybe I'll try it Margit's way...
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Twitter-Denied!
From: http://www.pcmag.com/article2/0,2817,2351283,00.asp
The popular microblogging site Twitter went down early Thursday morning, with the site's operators confirming the outage on a status blog as a denial-of-service attack.
Twitter originally offered no explanation for the outage, adding a characteristically pithy post on its Status blog titled, simply, "Site is Down". "We are determining the cause and will provide an update shortly," the post read.
Shortly thereafter, however, the site confirmed that it was suffering a denial-of-service attack. "We are defending against a denial-of-service attack, and will update status again shortly," the site read.
There's no wondering if this outage will spark fresh discussion of cyber-security and counter-cyber-terrorism efforts. The question is how much discussion will it spark...
The popular microblogging site Twitter went down early Thursday morning, with the site's operators confirming the outage on a status blog as a denial-of-service attack.
Twitter originally offered no explanation for the outage, adding a characteristically pithy post on its Status blog titled, simply, "Site is Down". "We are determining the cause and will provide an update shortly," the post read.
Shortly thereafter, however, the site confirmed that it was suffering a denial-of-service attack. "We are defending against a denial-of-service attack, and will update status again shortly," the site read.
There's no wondering if this outage will spark fresh discussion of cyber-security and counter-cyber-terrorism efforts. The question is how much discussion will it spark...
The Day the Twitter Died
I'd gotten up this morning and read an article by Robert Scoble on unfollowing people.
To be honest, I thought, oh great, yet another article by the in-the-know, internet intelligensia about why you shouldn't be following people like me, who may not really offer the sort of Twitter ROI that is important. Or is it important (to me) ?
It must not be- for me. I've been languishing at approximately the 400 user mark for a while now. I continue to tweet the beers I drink each night, provided sporadic twitter race-day coverage of Ironman Lake Placid, comments on the Tour de France, and frequently add tweets on politics, technology, and even the Daily Show. Taken as an aggregate, there's probably something not to like in my stream for just about any of my followers.
Twitter is at once this great democratizing force, unless Twitter decides to 'rationalize' the tweet-stream, which has been discussed by Twitter recently, and this obsessive playground for control-freaks. Who follows you, who you are following, how many are there, what's the value, and other questions are constant discussion points on Twitter, and that's fine. But I think there is maybe to much ROI on something that is basically free- or free plus the cost of the time you put into it.
However, I found the article really actually useful. There's nothing wrong with using Twitter whatever way you like to- as a communication tool, a means of self-expression, a resource for answers to your questions. Complain, philosophize, agitate, even market. it's all good. But there's no reason to handicap your account and your experience, either.
Example- your bio line. Mine said almost nothing about me except that I like Battlestar Galactica. While this is true, it doesn't tell you who I am, what I do, or what I tweet about. So, as the article suggested, I changed it.
Then I sat back, made this one change, interested to see what might happen.
And Twitter took a giant face plant a few minutes later. It's been down about two hours now, I think, and yeah, here I am, writing about it being down on my blog, partially because you can't tweet about twitter being down. You can, however, go to http://istwitterdown.com for a status update.
Anyway, read the article. I think there are some great tips for being as 'good' a twitter user as you decide you want to be.
To be honest, I thought, oh great, yet another article by the in-the-know, internet intelligensia about why you shouldn't be following people like me, who may not really offer the sort of Twitter ROI that is important. Or is it important (to me) ?
It must not be- for me. I've been languishing at approximately the 400 user mark for a while now. I continue to tweet the beers I drink each night, provided sporadic twitter race-day coverage of Ironman Lake Placid, comments on the Tour de France, and frequently add tweets on politics, technology, and even the Daily Show. Taken as an aggregate, there's probably something not to like in my stream for just about any of my followers.
Twitter is at once this great democratizing force, unless Twitter decides to 'rationalize' the tweet-stream, which has been discussed by Twitter recently, and this obsessive playground for control-freaks. Who follows you, who you are following, how many are there, what's the value, and other questions are constant discussion points on Twitter, and that's fine. But I think there is maybe to much ROI on something that is basically free- or free plus the cost of the time you put into it.
However, I found the article really actually useful. There's nothing wrong with using Twitter whatever way you like to- as a communication tool, a means of self-expression, a resource for answers to your questions. Complain, philosophize, agitate, even market. it's all good. But there's no reason to handicap your account and your experience, either.
Example- your bio line. Mine said almost nothing about me except that I like Battlestar Galactica. While this is true, it doesn't tell you who I am, what I do, or what I tweet about. So, as the article suggested, I changed it.
Then I sat back, made this one change, interested to see what might happen.
And Twitter took a giant face plant a few minutes later. It's been down about two hours now, I think, and yeah, here I am, writing about it being down on my blog, partially because you can't tweet about twitter being down. You can, however, go to http://istwitterdown.com for a status update.
Anyway, read the article. I think there are some great tips for being as 'good' a twitter user as you decide you want to be.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Saturday Morning Mishaps- Bad Bottle Cage Installs
Maybe I should let the pros install my bottle cages from now on.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
Sea Legs Shuffle 10 miler
Sea Legs has over the years has become a regular on my race schedule. The race falls a week after Ironman lake placid and the day after Block island triathlon, which John Hirsch won yesterday, and I decided to skip. The trip to Lake Placid took too much out of everyone- and as much as I enjoy watching John eviscerate the field at BI, it would have never worked.
This race has been a state championship the last two years, which brings out the best runners in the state. As a former winner of the race, I knew well that I would not be competing for a top spot, however, I would be scoring for my team in the open and masters category so I needed a good effort.
The race starts out with a long flat run up Seaside Avenue, then hooks a left and shortly after that you are climbing a serious short uphill on a bridge. I wanted to go out hard for the first mile- sub-six. Six guys quickly formed a lead pack and I was alone as the chase group. I knew I was running harder than I would be in later miles, but if I could moderate my effort after one mile, I'd be fine.
Halfway up the hill there's a right hand side-street. I saw a green SUV. The woman looked at me, decided she had time to pull out, and then pulled onto the road, only to see the six guys in front of me blocking the road. There was room for her to go around, but she instead decided that she would back up into the side street. She'd forgotten all about me and started a viscous fast left hook turn. I dodged her- I had room to get around, but I was pretty aggravated and delivered a very robust 'WTF ?'.
When Jim Zoldy passed me, he quipped 'I'm pretty sure that car will make the blog' and of course, he's right. Great race by the way, Jim. Twelfth overall and a very solid 1:01.
Chris Schulten, Jim, and several other people I expected to pass me were out in front of me by mile two, and that's the flattest part of the race, pretty much until two and half miles, it's board flat. I'd dialed down a notch and settled in, but the two mile time I'd gotten- well over 12:00 minutes- seemed kind of wrong. I'd done 5:50 for the first mile.
When I hit the three mile mark I was already a full minute off 6 minute mile pace, and starting a set of rollers. This is where I'd attacked last year, and it had been way too early and I'd paid a price later on. So I held back, even when the bulk of the EKG team went by me in a pack. I wanted to push and hang with them, but it was definitely the wrong thing to do.
There was nothing big going on after that for a while. Chris was closing in on two younger runners and I was watching him. He wasn't really pulling away from me, and as these other two runners came back to me, I really had to fight the urge to run them down, because the biggest hill on the course is in mile four on Old Sachem's Head. I took it about 90% up the hill, passing one of the guys, then caught the other one on a roller about a half mile later.
There was one other runner between Chris and I. I was very slowly losing ground to him. As we came around Vineyard Point Road, they were drawing even and ran together for a while, then as we started climbing again, they still had about 15 seconds on me. I did not want to push these uphills. My plan was to attack any short downhills, but hold my pace until at least eight miles, instead of overcooking the course like I'd done last year.
It was beastly humid. I was taking water at every stop and pouring it on my head or chest and that was helping to keep more core temperature where I wanted it.
We went through eight miles and I was still about 12 or 13 seconds behind Chris. Sometimes I would pick up a second or two or lose it. He was stopping to drink water at the aid stations, pausing for just 2-3 seconds, then running with a better pace afterwards, so it evened out. I was still trying to catch him as we hooked a right onto Old Whitfield and worked our way around High Street until we were back on Whitfield again.
I knew my only chance to catch anyone was to catch Chris and that I would have to take him on the hill on the bridge (it's an uphill in each direction, like a big upside-down U).
It didn't happen.
We picked it up down the other side and raced to Seaside Avenue, both of us running a little harder. I could hear Julie yelling encouragement to runners as we hit the corner and I ran it in. Unfortunately I couldn't see the clock until it said 1:03:57, too late to surge and break 1:04.
I ran a 1:04:02. I joked with Chris that we'd run 57s on the course, so they must have added a mile someone. We ran a warm down together. Chris is such a nice guy as well as a real competitor and it was really great for me to be able to have him to chase the whole race as it kept me focused on staying steady.
Also, a big shout out to the Terwilligers and Marty Schaivone. Maureen ran a great race then hosted us for a post-race pool (and trampoline) party with Marty's help. Thanks guys.
On the minus side, I was 21st overall and 6th in my age group. On the plus side, it was a state championship, so 6th in my age group is bad, but not that bad. It's better than 28th and 7th in my age group, which was what happened at the State Championship 5k. Not the sort of numbers I'm used to at road races...
As a training run to get read for a September half-ironman ? Pretty good.
This race has been a state championship the last two years, which brings out the best runners in the state. As a former winner of the race, I knew well that I would not be competing for a top spot, however, I would be scoring for my team in the open and masters category so I needed a good effort.
The race starts out with a long flat run up Seaside Avenue, then hooks a left and shortly after that you are climbing a serious short uphill on a bridge. I wanted to go out hard for the first mile- sub-six. Six guys quickly formed a lead pack and I was alone as the chase group. I knew I was running harder than I would be in later miles, but if I could moderate my effort after one mile, I'd be fine.
Halfway up the hill there's a right hand side-street. I saw a green SUV. The woman looked at me, decided she had time to pull out, and then pulled onto the road, only to see the six guys in front of me blocking the road. There was room for her to go around, but she instead decided that she would back up into the side street. She'd forgotten all about me and started a viscous fast left hook turn. I dodged her- I had room to get around, but I was pretty aggravated and delivered a very robust 'WTF ?'.
When Jim Zoldy passed me, he quipped 'I'm pretty sure that car will make the blog' and of course, he's right. Great race by the way, Jim. Twelfth overall and a very solid 1:01.
Chris Schulten, Jim, and several other people I expected to pass me were out in front of me by mile two, and that's the flattest part of the race, pretty much until two and half miles, it's board flat. I'd dialed down a notch and settled in, but the two mile time I'd gotten- well over 12:00 minutes- seemed kind of wrong. I'd done 5:50 for the first mile.
When I hit the three mile mark I was already a full minute off 6 minute mile pace, and starting a set of rollers. This is where I'd attacked last year, and it had been way too early and I'd paid a price later on. So I held back, even when the bulk of the EKG team went by me in a pack. I wanted to push and hang with them, but it was definitely the wrong thing to do.
There was nothing big going on after that for a while. Chris was closing in on two younger runners and I was watching him. He wasn't really pulling away from me, and as these other two runners came back to me, I really had to fight the urge to run them down, because the biggest hill on the course is in mile four on Old Sachem's Head. I took it about 90% up the hill, passing one of the guys, then caught the other one on a roller about a half mile later.
There was one other runner between Chris and I. I was very slowly losing ground to him. As we came around Vineyard Point Road, they were drawing even and ran together for a while, then as we started climbing again, they still had about 15 seconds on me. I did not want to push these uphills. My plan was to attack any short downhills, but hold my pace until at least eight miles, instead of overcooking the course like I'd done last year.
It was beastly humid. I was taking water at every stop and pouring it on my head or chest and that was helping to keep more core temperature where I wanted it.
We went through eight miles and I was still about 12 or 13 seconds behind Chris. Sometimes I would pick up a second or two or lose it. He was stopping to drink water at the aid stations, pausing for just 2-3 seconds, then running with a better pace afterwards, so it evened out. I was still trying to catch him as we hooked a right onto Old Whitfield and worked our way around High Street until we were back on Whitfield again.
I knew my only chance to catch anyone was to catch Chris and that I would have to take him on the hill on the bridge (it's an uphill in each direction, like a big upside-down U).
It didn't happen.
We picked it up down the other side and raced to Seaside Avenue, both of us running a little harder. I could hear Julie yelling encouragement to runners as we hit the corner and I ran it in. Unfortunately I couldn't see the clock until it said 1:03:57, too late to surge and break 1:04.
I ran a 1:04:02. I joked with Chris that we'd run 57s on the course, so they must have added a mile someone. We ran a warm down together. Chris is such a nice guy as well as a real competitor and it was really great for me to be able to have him to chase the whole race as it kept me focused on staying steady.
Also, a big shout out to the Terwilligers and Marty Schaivone. Maureen ran a great race then hosted us for a post-race pool (and trampoline) party with Marty's help. Thanks guys.
On the minus side, I was 21st overall and 6th in my age group. On the plus side, it was a state championship, so 6th in my age group is bad, but not that bad. It's better than 28th and 7th in my age group, which was what happened at the State Championship 5k. Not the sort of numbers I'm used to at road races...
As a training run to get read for a September half-ironman ? Pretty good.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Ironman Lake Placid 2009- Spectator View
I thought I should get a few thoughts down on the seventeen hour day we all spent last Sunday at IMLP.
Spectating an Ironman is no small assignment. First of all, it's not your race, it's the 2400 or so people lined up and waiting to get in the water that are racing so you kind of have to tailor what you do to be focused on them. Note to spectators that use the porta-potties right by the beach 20 minutes before the race starts. I'm talking to you. Cross your legs and hold it until 7:00, would ya ?
We got down to the water about twenty minutes before the start of the race and waited in the rain for it to start. You always kind of get these chills. The music is blasting and then they start the pros- 10 minutes early- before the rest of the the race- the age-groupers- can't we just call them the athletes ?
Steve and I got up next to the wetsuit corral and got to see the majority of the athletes getting out of the water pix here. Except for having to strip down and rescue a scared kid floating on a dock, this was pretty uneventful. I took hundreds of low-quality photos with my iPhone, a few movies I haven't posted, and then we headed back to the room on the opposite side of the lake.
We could hear them bringing in the last swimmers from across the lake.
Then we went out to run, heading out on the run course, which is also the bike course. It was Steve, Margit and I, with me pushing Ian, on the opposite side of the road from the bikes. It amazes me that on race day there are people out riding bikes on the bike course. What are you thinking ? I heard LPPD yell at two of them to get out of the way. The lead guy came through hauling ass and we didn't see anyone else for more than 10 minutes. When the second guy came through (down near the bridge were you turn off to the run course), I yelled 'Five minutes, he's got five minutes on you.' I was trying to to keep up his hope...
We ran the run course until we got to the turn-around, kept going instead of turned back, and then went up 86, Steve and I together, Margit right behind. Because of the hills, I was able to run and talk to the cyclists at the same time, combining banter and cheering with the occasional make-the-pass remarks. It was kind of weird climbing the bears pushing a stroller, chatting with athletes. I saw Mandy and a few other people I knew.
We stopped at the top to cheer people on and regroup, then Steve and I put the hammer down for the finish from the turn-around on the run to our condo.
We watched some more bikes, hit a very quick shower and then lunch at Lake Placid Brewery. Note on Josh's FIre Fish- make it hotter ! It was like, OK hot, but not alan hot. Not close.
Then we watched more cyclists coming in and I snapped many more low-quality iPhontos. Pros were headed out on the run and in on the bike at the same time.
A little later, I was down at the expo when Dave Harju came in.
He was pretty banged up from a crash near the firestation at the end of the bike out and back. He'd finished the ride, gotten some bandages, and then run a loop of the (edited) run course. I have to say, he really refuted the idea that pros maybe don't hesitate to drop out of races when they suffer adversity. He looked like a doctor in a hospital should have been cleaning him up. Someone I know gave me a hard time about not recording his account of the day's events with my 3gs iPhone's movie mode, but I felt like the guy deserved his privacy.
Then we set up by the condo and watched the race go by. People start coming in on the bike and you know these people are still on the race course, but their race is over, they've missed the cut-off and they may or may not know it. This scene repeats on the run. Steve and I were surprised at how long it took for the sweeper truck to come through with the truly forlorn and how many over the limit people they left out there.
After that, it's all about the runners. We were at the hot corner for the ambulance, right past an aid station where several runners collapsed or called for aid.
One of those was Gus Ellison. He was shivering and apparently sick to his stomach- we offered to walk him back but he decided (wisely) to take the ambulance.
It's hard. People are struggling out there and I'm an outgoing person, so I'm always trying to find that right balance- encourage but don't badger. One guy gave me his Red Bull to hold until he came back from the turn around. Others started running again when Steve and I encouraged them to keep going. This is the part that's the most fun because you are in the action in a good, supportive way, but it's clear some people just aren't going to make it.
We never saw Mandy Braverman on the second loop of the run and it was only afterwards that I found out that was because she collapsed at mile 16 and needed CPR. Wow, that's scary- get better soon, Mandy, especially since you are signed up for IM Florida.
About 10 PM Steve and I made it to the venue and got up in the bleachers, spent about an hour, but we were both tired, knew we had to be up early to sign up, and just weren't feeling the excitement.
As we walked away, Mike Reilly headed down off the scaffolding and we heard people start banging on the sponsor placards and we knew we'd missed that moment, where you do feel it, where the 16 hour plus people start to really mean something to you, by about 1 minute.
One minute. Eight minutes. Just time. Just something you have to get over regardless of the numbers. We went back to the condo- Margit was out watching and the three of us cheered on people as they went by- 24.5 miles on the way out. 25.2 or .3 on the way back. Increasingly desperate, increasingly unlikely to make it back under 17 hours.
We went inside right at midnight.
Next year. Now it's about next year, and I'll be there, on the course. So will Steve. I hope Margit finds a way to be there too.
Spectating an Ironman is no small assignment. First of all, it's not your race, it's the 2400 or so people lined up and waiting to get in the water that are racing so you kind of have to tailor what you do to be focused on them. Note to spectators that use the porta-potties right by the beach 20 minutes before the race starts. I'm talking to you. Cross your legs and hold it until 7:00, would ya ?
We got down to the water about twenty minutes before the start of the race and waited in the rain for it to start. You always kind of get these chills. The music is blasting and then they start the pros- 10 minutes early- before the rest of the the race- the age-groupers- can't we just call them the athletes ?
Steve and I got up next to the wetsuit corral and got to see the majority of the athletes getting out of the water pix here. Except for having to strip down and rescue a scared kid floating on a dock, this was pretty uneventful. I took hundreds of low-quality photos with my iPhone, a few movies I haven't posted, and then we headed back to the room on the opposite side of the lake.
We could hear them bringing in the last swimmers from across the lake.
Then we went out to run, heading out on the run course, which is also the bike course. It was Steve, Margit and I, with me pushing Ian, on the opposite side of the road from the bikes. It amazes me that on race day there are people out riding bikes on the bike course. What are you thinking ? I heard LPPD yell at two of them to get out of the way. The lead guy came through hauling ass and we didn't see anyone else for more than 10 minutes. When the second guy came through (down near the bridge were you turn off to the run course), I yelled 'Five minutes, he's got five minutes on you.' I was trying to to keep up his hope...
We ran the run course until we got to the turn-around, kept going instead of turned back, and then went up 86, Steve and I together, Margit right behind. Because of the hills, I was able to run and talk to the cyclists at the same time, combining banter and cheering with the occasional make-the-pass remarks. It was kind of weird climbing the bears pushing a stroller, chatting with athletes. I saw Mandy and a few other people I knew.
We stopped at the top to cheer people on and regroup, then Steve and I put the hammer down for the finish from the turn-around on the run to our condo.
We watched some more bikes, hit a very quick shower and then lunch at Lake Placid Brewery. Note on Josh's FIre Fish- make it hotter ! It was like, OK hot, but not alan hot. Not close.
Then we watched more cyclists coming in and I snapped many more low-quality iPhontos. Pros were headed out on the run and in on the bike at the same time.
A little later, I was down at the expo when Dave Harju came in.
He was pretty banged up from a crash near the firestation at the end of the bike out and back. He'd finished the ride, gotten some bandages, and then run a loop of the (edited) run course. I have to say, he really refuted the idea that pros maybe don't hesitate to drop out of races when they suffer adversity. He looked like a doctor in a hospital should have been cleaning him up. Someone I know gave me a hard time about not recording his account of the day's events with my 3gs iPhone's movie mode, but I felt like the guy deserved his privacy.
Then we set up by the condo and watched the race go by. People start coming in on the bike and you know these people are still on the race course, but their race is over, they've missed the cut-off and they may or may not know it. This scene repeats on the run. Steve and I were surprised at how long it took for the sweeper truck to come through with the truly forlorn and how many over the limit people they left out there.
After that, it's all about the runners. We were at the hot corner for the ambulance, right past an aid station where several runners collapsed or called for aid.
One of those was Gus Ellison. He was shivering and apparently sick to his stomach- we offered to walk him back but he decided (wisely) to take the ambulance.
It's hard. People are struggling out there and I'm an outgoing person, so I'm always trying to find that right balance- encourage but don't badger. One guy gave me his Red Bull to hold until he came back from the turn around. Others started running again when Steve and I encouraged them to keep going. This is the part that's the most fun because you are in the action in a good, supportive way, but it's clear some people just aren't going to make it.
We never saw Mandy Braverman on the second loop of the run and it was only afterwards that I found out that was because she collapsed at mile 16 and needed CPR. Wow, that's scary- get better soon, Mandy, especially since you are signed up for IM Florida.
About 10 PM Steve and I made it to the venue and got up in the bleachers, spent about an hour, but we were both tired, knew we had to be up early to sign up, and just weren't feeling the excitement.
As we walked away, Mike Reilly headed down off the scaffolding and we heard people start banging on the sponsor placards and we knew we'd missed that moment, where you do feel it, where the 16 hour plus people start to really mean something to you, by about 1 minute.
One minute. Eight minutes. Just time. Just something you have to get over regardless of the numbers. We went back to the condo- Margit was out watching and the three of us cheered on people as they went by- 24.5 miles on the way out. 25.2 or .3 on the way back. Increasingly desperate, increasingly unlikely to make it back under 17 hours.
We went inside right at midnight.
Next year. Now it's about next year, and I'll be there, on the course. So will Steve. I hope Margit finds a way to be there too.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Dave Greenfield- Elite Bicycles
This is quintessential Dave...
Can I mention Richie spent time the day before the race tightening Margit's headset ? And she wasn't even racing. Or that Dave emailed me right after the race closed to make sure I was in for next year ?
These guys are the best.
Can I mention Richie spent time the day before the race tightening Margit's headset ? And she wasn't even racing. Or that Dave emailed me right after the race closed to make sure I was in for next year ?
These guys are the best.
Ironman Lake Placid 2010- Registration
I'm in.
For the fifth time, I'll be doing Ironman Lake Placid in 2010. This will be my third straight time doing the race after a year off. Each time I do the race, it seems a little bit harder to get in.
The short amount of online entry time convinced us to head up, do some training, and sign up the day after the race.
I've read on forums since that the race was open online for more than one but less than two hours. Let me say that I'm shocked by this. I stood in line for about four and a half hours and watched the volunteer line, which extended from in front of the Ironman Village to behind the school, slowly move while we made jokes and devastated three porta-potties across the way.
When my son came by he asked me what I was doing and I said 'waiting for someone to come out and tell us the race is closed'. This drew a laugh. I then drew bigger laughs riding his Spiderman bike with the training wheels, his helmet crammed on my melon.
I don't know if they oversold the race, or if the online went as slowly as it did for Arizona, but that people got on, online, for something less than two hours is just- wow. We waited for 4 hours before our line even started to move- at least four hours.
I would have guessed 2500 people signed up on site- they had fifteen (???) registration stations processing people starting before 8AM. But obviously that was not the case. In any event, I am happy to be in and hopefully this weekend I'll be able to blog about last week's race.
Bottom line- I have to put it aside. My A race this year is Arizona and I can't be looking past it to 2010.
For the fifth time, I'll be doing Ironman Lake Placid in 2010. This will be my third straight time doing the race after a year off. Each time I do the race, it seems a little bit harder to get in.
The short amount of online entry time convinced us to head up, do some training, and sign up the day after the race.
I've read on forums since that the race was open online for more than one but less than two hours. Let me say that I'm shocked by this. I stood in line for about four and a half hours and watched the volunteer line, which extended from in front of the Ironman Village to behind the school, slowly move while we made jokes and devastated three porta-potties across the way.
When my son came by he asked me what I was doing and I said 'waiting for someone to come out and tell us the race is closed'. This drew a laugh. I then drew bigger laughs riding his Spiderman bike with the training wheels, his helmet crammed on my melon.
I don't know if they oversold the race, or if the online went as slowly as it did for Arizona, but that people got on, online, for something less than two hours is just- wow. We waited for 4 hours before our line even started to move- at least four hours.
I would have guessed 2500 people signed up on site- they had fifteen (???) registration stations processing people starting before 8AM. But obviously that was not the case. In any event, I am happy to be in and hopefully this weekend I'll be able to blog about last week's race.
Bottom line- I have to put it aside. My A race this year is Arizona and I can't be looking past it to 2010.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Ironman Lake Placid- Something New
I talked to Eric last night about what my workout should be while at Jeff Molson's pre-race party. I'd swum a loop of the swim course and there'd been that funny smell I associate with bacteria in the water- which is unusual for Mirror Lake - so I was focused on getting in a 'big' bike ride, meaning two loops of the course, and didn't plan on another swim today.
Eric was riding today with a friend, so I assumed I'd be going solo. He suggested two loops without the out and back, the first one backwards, the second one forward, and a brick run. I'm a big boy, so riding alone doesn't bother me, it's what I usually do and last year I did two loops on my own.
But I wanted to make sure Margit and Steve also got out and rode and we couldn't agree on a plan before bed, so although I was up at 6:30, I just started assembling food, fixing a few things, and because I knew there was a small chance Dave Greenfield would see me, cleaning my bike.
Complicating everything was the final real stage of the Tour. While instinct had me ready to bolt at 7AM, I thought that would be bogus and selfish. Also, I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep- the lake had done a great job of stuffing me up and I'd spent most of the night with a headache and and a stoppered nose. So maybe I wasn't looking to start a somewhat technical ride all fuzzy-headed, although I'd have followed whatever marching orders came my way.
Finally around 9 AM, someone had to make a call. I was a lot shorter on time- my own fault- so I decided to do one loop- with the out and back- backwards, then run.
This was great. I got to watch the start of the Tour stage, and then I got in a great ride.
I can't recommend finding a time to do this ride strongly enough. You learn a lot- I mean a lot- about the course- tackling it in reverse. There are a lot of false flats and even some false uphills and downhills that I've wondered about for years. I've raced the course 4 times now and done numerous rides on it. There's always been the wind- you don't race here and not run up against any headwinds.
It's also simply a harder course the other way. You get hit with the hills on the backside either way, but after averaging 24 mph the first hour (and I was taking it easy), things start to get challenging from you as soon as you get about half-way out on the out and back.
The funny thing is the ride went by really quickly, even though it was one of the slowest loops I've ever ridden- nearly three hours to ride what ended up being 57 miles.
The big hills back into Lake Placid ? I honestly believe that if they reversed the course there would be a significant spike in attrition. Eric wanted me to stay aero and climb for a strength-workout, which I would say I did about 90% of the time, with 5% standing and 5% sitting up.
The hills were tough, but totally manageable. I mean, I thought I was gassed when I got to the top- and I knew exactly when I was there, and I gave a big fist-pump, which isn't like me, but then I was able to settle right back and I was flying downhill again.
I finished the loop, then ran for 15 minutes.
Thanks, EH. Going backwards was the way to go, and so what ? I only got one loop in ? My ironman is in November, I have a sprint Monday, a ten mile road race next Sunday, and another sprint after that, and my training has me perfectly positioned to do an half-ironman. Did I get 112 miles or two loops in ? Who cares.
I got a great workout, Steve and Margit got to ride a loop, I took Ian to see Dave Greenfield. It's all good.
Good luck tomorrow, everyone.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Lance and the Tour
I just wanted to jot this down before tomorrow's stage.
I don't for one minute believe that Lance is finished and Alberto Contador's only way of missing a victory is a mechanical or crash. That's right. And yes, I listened to everything Lance said after yesterday's stage. But I'm not buying it yet.
I am also not calling Lance a liar, or discounting all the things that the experts- of which I am most assuredly not- have said about Contador.
Here's what I've seen. Contador has gotten his entire advantage basically on two stages in which he made viscous accelerations up short climbs. And he only put Lance in apparent difficult in the second case. The first time, Lance didn't ride him down because that would not have been the behaviour of a teammate. It is true that he appeared to be incapable of staying with Contador yesterday.
To make a believer out of me, the same thing is going to have to happen on a much longer climb where Contador doesn't have the advantage of sitting on his teammates for most of the stage before launching a late attack. And maybe that's what's coming- an Alberto strike early in the Col du Grand-Saint-Bernard climb.
But I don't think he's the rider most likely able to do it. I'm not 100% sure it's Lance either, but I know which one I'd pick if I had to...
I don't for one minute believe that Lance is finished and Alberto Contador's only way of missing a victory is a mechanical or crash. That's right. And yes, I listened to everything Lance said after yesterday's stage. But I'm not buying it yet.
I am also not calling Lance a liar, or discounting all the things that the experts- of which I am most assuredly not- have said about Contador.
Here's what I've seen. Contador has gotten his entire advantage basically on two stages in which he made viscous accelerations up short climbs. And he only put Lance in apparent difficult in the second case. The first time, Lance didn't ride him down because that would not have been the behaviour of a teammate. It is true that he appeared to be incapable of staying with Contador yesterday.
To make a believer out of me, the same thing is going to have to happen on a much longer climb where Contador doesn't have the advantage of sitting on his teammates for most of the stage before launching a late attack. And maybe that's what's coming- an Alberto strike early in the Col du Grand-Saint-Bernard climb.
But I don't think he's the rider most likely able to do it. I'm not 100% sure it's Lance either, but I know which one I'd pick if I had to...
Mossman Triathlon
I'm not much of a race spectator. I usually save my spectating for really big races like the Ironman (I've been on the sidelines at both Placid and Florida), or the Pfizer triathlon. And I'll be honest.
I don't like it. I'm like most athletes, I think. I want to race. As the bikes go whizzing by you it's hard not to think 'there, but for the grace of a babysitter, go I.'
It's only harder when your thought process is 'How can we see Mommy the most times on the course ?' and your son's thought process is 'there's a playground, there's a playground, THERE'S A PLAYGROUND DADDY.'
The Mossman course is set up for good spectating. The point to point swim can be walked faster than people swim it so we were able to see Mommy both go in and then come out of the water. We also saw her head out on the bike and go out for the second lap. Finally, we saw her twice on the run, once going out and once more at the finish line.
Clearly though, the two-loop bike course is a challenge on the second loop in the park where the lanes are tight- bikes are everywhere and clearly staying left and other concepts of safe racing are lost on quite a few riders.
Given that I was chasing my Ian around, it was hard to really know how the race was going. I assumed the Ian (Ray) had straight-up won the race, but I later found out that while he did have a great race and notch a win, he was actually second finisher. Margit seemed to be having a good race but when you start in the fifth wave it's hard to tell.
I got a chance to talk to Don Gustavson after the race- he had a great race, by the way, as far as I could tell- and all I can say is good luck on that mountain bike race. Sounds like a great opportunity and a lot of fun.
I talked to several other triathletes that will be up at Lake Placid either to do the race or spectate and that's where I'm headed.
I'm excited to be headed up there, even if it is just to watch...
Also- a shout out to all the Force 5 athletes that had great races- Dave, @poycc, Margit, and Scott Casper.
I don't like it. I'm like most athletes, I think. I want to race. As the bikes go whizzing by you it's hard not to think 'there, but for the grace of a babysitter, go I.'
It's only harder when your thought process is 'How can we see Mommy the most times on the course ?' and your son's thought process is 'there's a playground, there's a playground, THERE'S A PLAYGROUND DADDY.'
The Mossman course is set up for good spectating. The point to point swim can be walked faster than people swim it so we were able to see Mommy both go in and then come out of the water. We also saw her head out on the bike and go out for the second lap. Finally, we saw her twice on the run, once going out and once more at the finish line.
Clearly though, the two-loop bike course is a challenge on the second loop in the park where the lanes are tight- bikes are everywhere and clearly staying left and other concepts of safe racing are lost on quite a few riders.
Given that I was chasing my Ian around, it was hard to really know how the race was going. I assumed the Ian (Ray) had straight-up won the race, but I later found out that while he did have a great race and notch a win, he was actually second finisher. Margit seemed to be having a good race but when you start in the fifth wave it's hard to tell.
I got a chance to talk to Don Gustavson after the race- he had a great race, by the way, as far as I could tell- and all I can say is good luck on that mountain bike race. Sounds like a great opportunity and a lot of fun.
I talked to several other triathletes that will be up at Lake Placid either to do the race or spectate and that's where I'm headed.
I'm excited to be headed up there, even if it is just to watch...
Also- a shout out to all the Force 5 athletes that had great races- Dave, @poycc, Margit, and Scott Casper.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Independence Day 5000
Filed under: Better late than never.
There was a time, when I started racing, that 5Ks were my bread and butter distance. I was in my mid-30s, ran 70 miles a week, ran twice a day. I'd run anything, but 5ks were my race of choice. I could go, run a mile warm-up, run the race, do a half mile warm down and go home.
Hard to image. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Absolutely not. There are moments (when I'm in the Sound and the water is so rough I can't see the buoy 20 feet in front of me) I wish maybe I was still that guy. 5Ks are affordable, the training for them is reasonable, the equipment is affordable...
Those moments always pass. I can't hear Clocks without wanting to be in water of Mirror Lake at 6:59 AM. Or Beautiful Day. I may be kidding myself about being a triathlete the same way I was kidding myself back then about being a serious runner- I was never willing to do the speed work, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I showed up early, grabbed my registration stuff, and went out and ran the course for a warm-up at 7:30 pace. Is that a warm-up pace for me, looking to run about 5:45 ? Who knows ? (Eric knows) Who cares ? I wanted to run the course twice and know I'm a lazy bastard and that after 'giving everything I had (cough cough, eye-roll)' I would wimp out on the warm-down after a mile. Also, Margit's workout would start when my finished, so I needed to run and get home, epecially because we had a party and dinner lined up. And even 10K is barely a workout...
I love this course. Margit and I have both won races on this course (although not this race) and I had my best 5K in several years on the course last year. I spent the last 15 minutes before the race lining up a perfect straight line run through the start, which is uphill and winding. I was all set.
Then about a minute before the race this woman in basic running clothes, training shoes, kind of, well, solid for an top runner, and her boyfriend, who was clearly just well, not a top runner, lineup right in front of me and the guys next to me.
I didn't want to say anything. For all I knew she was some hotshot runner (her boyfriend, not so much).
We started. She totally blocked me. It was insane. The start is very tight and once you are packed in, you really have nowhere to go. She had me absolutely pinned behind her and her boyfriend. It was just like one 3000 I ran in high school where I got boxed in by the other team. Experience told me to bite the bullet, take a few hesitation steps, and get the frak around her and her boyfriend, who was already fading.
I was not all happy thoughts because I then had to work on the hill to return to contact with the people I should have been in contact with. If I hadn't been with Charlie Hornak after the race when I did see her, I might have made a regrettable comment to her, like I did during the race at Griskus to someone.
The race gets off to a fast start. Cheryl Anderson, the first woman and a Branford resident, was right in my general area. I knew as we took the first two turns and headed up towards the seawall that I was not quite at last year's pace, but there were a lot of people around me and I worked up the hill to pass some of them. Then it's mostly downhill after the turn at the top of the hill to the mile mark.
I was on pace to run 17:50 or so. I went through the mile mark and there was a lot of backside pressure but I was trying to run my own race. Cheryl passed me in here I think and decided against battling anymore. I'd try to stay close, but I don't get points for my team- it was a USATF-CT race- for beating unattached (or attached) women. Just open and masters men.
I was a little tired. I'd ridden 60 miles the day before at an aggressive pace because, well, I'm a triathlete. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. I was coming back to the best 5K I'd run in years, a state championship, and running on tired legs.
I could still see George Buchanan, but he was like a mirage wrapped in the pain of my slowness.
We climbed the hill, the course's big hill, and then hit more downhill as we wrapped around a neighbourhood. I took a cup of water at the water stop and poured it over my head, because that's what I do.
I battled back and forth with a couple of runners, wrapped back around towards the main road, remembering from my warm-up that the perceived uphill basically is non-existent.
Then it was downhill again and I was on fumes as we turned the corner and ran towards the back-door entrance to Foran High School. As we made that last turn, I was passed or last contact with three runners, which was hard to take- two would finish just a second ahead of me when I made one last, late- just too late surge.
But when I saw the clock I knew I was breaking 18 for just the second time in the last two years, and although it was 18 seconds slower than last year, I guess I'll take it.
I'm a triathlete after all. Why am I running 5ks anyway ?
Oh yeah, to break 17:30.
Damn!
I had a nice conversation after the race with Keith 'Newton' Guinta, then warmed down with Charlie.
Glad I went ? Sure. Happy with how I ran ?
Of course not...
There was a time, when I started racing, that 5Ks were my bread and butter distance. I was in my mid-30s, ran 70 miles a week, ran twice a day. I'd run anything, but 5ks were my race of choice. I could go, run a mile warm-up, run the race, do a half mile warm down and go home.
Hard to image. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Absolutely not. There are moments (when I'm in the Sound and the water is so rough I can't see the buoy 20 feet in front of me) I wish maybe I was still that guy. 5Ks are affordable, the training for them is reasonable, the equipment is affordable...
Those moments always pass. I can't hear Clocks without wanting to be in water of Mirror Lake at 6:59 AM. Or Beautiful Day. I may be kidding myself about being a triathlete the same way I was kidding myself back then about being a serious runner- I was never willing to do the speed work, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I showed up early, grabbed my registration stuff, and went out and ran the course for a warm-up at 7:30 pace. Is that a warm-up pace for me, looking to run about 5:45 ? Who knows ? (Eric knows) Who cares ? I wanted to run the course twice and know I'm a lazy bastard and that after 'giving everything I had (cough cough, eye-roll)' I would wimp out on the warm-down after a mile. Also, Margit's workout would start when my finished, so I needed to run and get home, epecially because we had a party and dinner lined up. And even 10K is barely a workout...
I love this course. Margit and I have both won races on this course (although not this race) and I had my best 5K in several years on the course last year. I spent the last 15 minutes before the race lining up a perfect straight line run through the start, which is uphill and winding. I was all set.
Then about a minute before the race this woman in basic running clothes, training shoes, kind of, well, solid for an top runner, and her boyfriend, who was clearly just well, not a top runner, lineup right in front of me and the guys next to me.
I didn't want to say anything. For all I knew she was some hotshot runner (her boyfriend, not so much).
We started. She totally blocked me. It was insane. The start is very tight and once you are packed in, you really have nowhere to go. She had me absolutely pinned behind her and her boyfriend. It was just like one 3000 I ran in high school where I got boxed in by the other team. Experience told me to bite the bullet, take a few hesitation steps, and get the frak around her and her boyfriend, who was already fading.
I was not all happy thoughts because I then had to work on the hill to return to contact with the people I should have been in contact with. If I hadn't been with Charlie Hornak after the race when I did see her, I might have made a regrettable comment to her, like I did during the race at Griskus to someone.
The race gets off to a fast start. Cheryl Anderson, the first woman and a Branford resident, was right in my general area. I knew as we took the first two turns and headed up towards the seawall that I was not quite at last year's pace, but there were a lot of people around me and I worked up the hill to pass some of them. Then it's mostly downhill after the turn at the top of the hill to the mile mark.
I was on pace to run 17:50 or so. I went through the mile mark and there was a lot of backside pressure but I was trying to run my own race. Cheryl passed me in here I think and decided against battling anymore. I'd try to stay close, but I don't get points for my team- it was a USATF-CT race- for beating unattached (or attached) women. Just open and masters men.
I was a little tired. I'd ridden 60 miles the day before at an aggressive pace because, well, I'm a triathlete. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. I was coming back to the best 5K I'd run in years, a state championship, and running on tired legs.
I could still see George Buchanan, but he was like a mirage wrapped in the pain of my slowness.
We climbed the hill, the course's big hill, and then hit more downhill as we wrapped around a neighbourhood. I took a cup of water at the water stop and poured it over my head, because that's what I do.
I battled back and forth with a couple of runners, wrapped back around towards the main road, remembering from my warm-up that the perceived uphill basically is non-existent.
Then it was downhill again and I was on fumes as we turned the corner and ran towards the back-door entrance to Foran High School. As we made that last turn, I was passed or last contact with three runners, which was hard to take- two would finish just a second ahead of me when I made one last, late- just too late surge.
But when I saw the clock I knew I was breaking 18 for just the second time in the last two years, and although it was 18 seconds slower than last year, I guess I'll take it.
I'm a triathlete after all. Why am I running 5ks anyway ?
Oh yeah, to break 17:30.
Damn!
I had a nice conversation after the race with Keith 'Newton' Guinta, then warmed down with Charlie.
Glad I went ? Sure. Happy with how I ran ?
Of course not...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Niantic Bay
I signed up for the Niantic Bay Triathlon, which is going to put me on pace to do as many as 5 triathlons this year, which would be the most in several years
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Griskus Sprint Triathlon- Lost in Transition Part II
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.
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.
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.
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