Going Out In Style

Every September my heart and mind is in Grand Coulee Washington. I have done the late September Half Ironman there 3 times. It is so insanely tough that I always reminisce about it, whether I am there or not. This year was no different and I found myself thinking about Grand Coulee the whole week leading up the race. It hit me that if my mind is there why isn’t my body?

I quickly decided I had to go for the sake of avoiding the empty feeling of being left out. Deciding to race 2 days before the event ruled out the Half Ironman. I am pretty flaky on Olympic Distances so that was out. That left me with the Aquabike. This would be a 1.2 mile swim and an insanely hard 56 mile bike ride combination.

I had not trained up to this distance, the longest race I did was 1:25. This would be 3 hours minimum. However, I have raced this distance many times in the past and had the belief that my short course racing would get me to the finish line, albeit I knew it was going to be hard (understatement of the year).

I arrived at the race in a rainstorm that dirtied the Murder Machine, not my ideal way to travel. Once I arrived I was in a calm state of satisfaction in simply being there. I was happy with whatever the day had at that point, I was just happy to be a part of the atmosphere and power of this place.

While I was cleaning the P3 and putting on my numbers and fuels, I overheard the kid next to me talking with his family. This kid was young, and I am guessing he was doing his first Half Ironman, or maybe his first Olympic because I could feel the stress in his conversations and actions.

It didn’t help that his parents seemed to micro manage his every move, “don’t do that…do this.” “Put your race number here…not there.” I smiled with the thought that at about mile 30 he would realize it was all on him, if he wanted to finish he had to find it in himself. I wished him the best, this would be an important day in his racing life.

I readied the P3 and put it in transition. While racking I ran into my friends Geoff and Dennis. A brief conversation was shared as all three of us had to move along to other tasks and preparations. The great thing about triathlon is we never get too caught up in hellos, conversations, and good byes, we simply meet up at the next race and never miss a beat. Although we can go months without seeing each other the bond always sticks as if we just saw each other yesterday.

The final hour up to the race I really enjoyed sitting and taking in the lake and surroundings. With 10 minutes to race start I heard over the loud speaker, “we need number 9, racer 9, to report to the referees tent. Hhmmmm that’s my number. I was immediately taken back to fourth grade when I would get called to the principal. “Ms. So and So, please send Bryan to the office.” That is never a good summons so I readied myself for problems and approached the USAT tent. In a hast I prepared myself for the confrontation.

I grabbed the arm of the official in a less than gentle way asking, “I am number 9, what do you need?” The official replied, “ah yes, you ride the Cervelo. I could give you a penalty because your bike number blends into the bike and I can’t see it that well.” I wanted to tell him to take it up with Cervelo for making my bike look awesome. It wasn’t my fault my awesome white frame blends with a black and white number. Long story short he said my bike number warranted a 4 minute time penalty, but he wasn’t going to give to me this time.

Great, USAT can’t police drafting worth a crap in the men’s field but he wanted to give me a 4 minute penalty because my bike number was the same design scheme as my bike color…make the numbers fluorescent…let me guess having my number on my helmet, 10x10 bib turned backwards , and on my calf wasn’t enough.

A sick setup, with a hidden race number?

A side note, after the race I had a great conversation with that same official and he was a great guy. I can’t blame him for doing his job. Anyway I made it to the swim start and waited for the gun. This season has been awesome for the swim, but the 1.2 mile swim would be over twice as long as my longest race swim. At all costs I was determined to not start too fast.

The gun sounded and I took off. I quickly went clear of all the bodies and was very pleased with the pace I found. The aquabike race was run at the same time as the Half Ironman so I had all the half athletes in my wave. My friend Geoff, doing the half iron, is a fantastic swimmer, he always has been better than me, it was great to find myself next to him matching his pace.

It was funny because the first portion of the swim was probably 700 meters in a straight line. I was swimming right next to Geoff the whole first stretch, he was breathing left and I was breathing right side so we actually looked each other in the face the whole first section of the swim. At the first buy of the triangle course I slipped into the slipstream of two fantastic athletes: L’Heureux and Greenfield, both are phenomenal at the half and full Iron distances.

I knew I was in great position and held in the draft. The pace was less intense than my usual sprint distance swims so I actually enjoyed being in the swim cruising along on such an awesome course. The 1.2 miles were enjoyable (less the two times I had to knock a guy out of Geoff’s draft line, the draft line that I wanted) and before I knew it we had almost completed the final leg of the triangle. The pace did pick up significantly the final stretch and the pack was broken up a little.

When I finally hit land I was the fourth out of the water (including aquabike and half iron), Geoff came out right behind me so I knew I had a great swim. The great thing was that I wasn’t tired at all, I felt great the whole swim. I felt so alive, and so thankful to be doing this race.

I made my way up the hill to my T1 bag and the change tent. Knowing I was going to be on my bike for 2.5 hours or more, I decided to use socks and my ratcheting cycling shoes. I gave back a little time in T1 with my shoe choice but it was worth it. I started on the 56 mile bike course smiling to myself, happy to be where I was.

This bike course is insane, there is a hill at mile one that twists and corkscrews into the clouds. I have no doubt that people had to walk their bikes up it because even the best riders were reduced to a slow grinding of their easiest gear. My cycling has emphasized aero, not hills this year and I felt it. The climb was at an average speed of 5 mph. The first 5 miles on the bike course were at an 11 mph average it was so hard.

Once I made it to the top of the plateau and out of the basin the wind hit me from the side and tossed me across the lane. I remembered the race direction saying, “…there is hardly any wind and it is a beautiful day.” Racing this course three previous times my initial reaction was, “you’re and idiot if you think there won’t be wind.”

For the next 30 miles I fought the side wind and the huge rolling hills. I would gear all the way down the cassette while descending and then rip right back up the cassette when going up the next in an endless cycle of gearing clicking. I would go from 40+ mph to a crawling 10 mph, back to 40 mph within a mile.

At mile 30 we make the comeback starting up a false flat into the wind. It was at this point that I officially went insane with the difficulty of this course. Even knowing of this course did not ease the difficulty of the slow, constant 13 mph grind up the 1-2 percent grade into the wind. It was at this point that I realized all I wanted was a bag of cheese flavored chex mix when I finished because I was starving for chex mix and bike power.

While struggling I downed a flask of Hammer’s Sustained Energy and popped a pack of Hammer Gel. Did I mention I went insane? I needed motivation so I started screaming “YES!” to myself every 10 seconds or so. I have no idea why I was doing it but I started to feel better. The Olympic distance athletes share this portion of the course and every time I passed one of them I would scream, “YES!” I am sure they were totally confused but I was insane so it made perfect sense (oxymoron).

My “YES” plan helped me through the last hard section of the course while grinding into the wind, up the hills, and back to the final downhill stretch. YES!… YES!… YES!…

The final stretch is a really fast downhill that sandwiches one final tough climb. I made the downhill maxing out my huge FSA chainring while doing 45+ mph. I continued with my “YES!” plan up the final grind of a climb that set up the final decent to the finish.

With a hurting back, fried legs, and a totally bonked body I made the final decent to the finish of my race. At the finish I was so happy to have been a part of the day, winning my race and setting a course record in 3 hours and 24 minutes was the equivalent to receiving a non-taxable bonus. I had finally had a great day on a course that was beyond hard. I enjoyed the rest of the day, the awards ceremony (I received some great awards), my bag of cheese chex mix, and was just thankful to be me and to be here at this race.

The best part about this last minute race is the fact that my heart doesn’t have to hurt all winter with the disappointment of getting 2nd by 19 seconds two weeks ago. I get the joy and satisfaction, all winter long, of a wonderful, dream-like, insanely hard day at Grand Coulee. I have no doubt that the feeling will last not just the winter, but a lifetime.

PS Just in time for the last race I received a sweet care package of speed from Trizone.com. In it was the new profile aero bar water bottle mount, and the best tires I have ever ridden, the Vittoria Corsas. When matched with my HED 3s they were the “sickest” wheel setup I have ever ridden, what a perfect race to experience them for the first time.

PSS What better way to end a triathlon season than with some Captain Crunch, I bought one of every variety because I throw wild victory parties.  YEEEEEAAH!

Dream day.

Nightmarishly hard.

Ultimate Satisfaction.

Done.


~

Capturing The Run Animal

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words... 

...Here is a thousand and change about the Lake Sammamish Triathlon.  This is the race that I ran my way up through the field and set my PR for a 5 kilometer run split. 

More importantly, it is the race that I had the courage to find my inner RUN ANIMAL! 

Lake Stevens Triathlon

Despite finishing 2nd overall, I did not have that great of a day. This triathlon day was the perfect example of one of those times that you may face when nothing is going your way. All you can do in a situation like this is keep a good attitude, give it your best and let go of expectations. Simply put your head down, give it your all, and see how things turn out…

The drive to the race took longer than expected. I get to races early, as you know from my previous posts, if I am running late then I feel rushed. If I feel rushed then I am cheated of the enjoyment of being at the race just taking my time. From there pre race seemed to go down the same path. In being late my usual transition spot was taken, dang it, I had to suffice with a new setup.

I continued to set up in T1. I realized I forgot something in the car; I went back got it and made the walk back to transition. I forgot another item and retraced again. Then I saw a lady pumping up her tires with a hand pump…hello did you not realize you needed a working bike when you signed up a month ago? I felt bad and let her use my nice pump. Yep, you guessed it she broke my pump. She over twisted the valve head, busted.

Goodness “just get me to the swim start.” I shivered until the swim start, thankfully making it there with everything. As I was treading water I transitioned to a belly float at the count of 1, bang we were off. In the first hundred meters a flailing arm dunked me under. That same flailing arm knocked my goggles sideways.

It was it this point that I was really just a hot mess trying to right my goggles and my path. All I could do was make the best of it and continue. I set my speed as “full” and my plan of attack to “aggressive.” At the turnaround I made my way back into the lead group of swimmers. It became very congested around the buoy and I had no patience for them. I swam through the pack, knocking people out of the way and going over someone’s back in the process. Even steven for goggles getting knocked off.

On the way back my aggression eased with my bedlam at the buoy. I made my way up to the lead swimmer, drafted for a few strokes and moved to the lead. People can dunk me, hit me in the head, and knock my goggles off, but guess what, I am leading the swim into T1.

T1 came and went and I was on the bike course. Immediately I noticed a brake rub. What the heck!?! I spent 5 minutes right before the race making sure this wouldn’t happen. I am guessing it was a latecomer that bumped my brake while trying to stuff their bike into the full rack. I remedied and continued. I rode hard to the turnaround and took time checks to second and third. I didn’t have much of a swim gap to start the ride so everyone was pretty close.

The course was very hard with hills and twisty turns, but I managed to hold the lead coming into T2. I was very surprised and energized the volume of the cheering crowd. It was pretty cool to have them cheering for me. 2nd place came into T2 right after me so the race was close.

The run turned into a dogfight between 2nd place and me. He was able to catch me on huge hill just before the run turnaround. I was doing my best to fight to stay with him and was able to limit my gaps to only the time lost on the big hill. I spotted third place about a minute and a half back. It was satisfying to see it was a fellow racer who had beat me two weeks before. I knew my gap was larger than his was when he beat me (his margin of victory was 10 seconds). That is a great feeling to even the score.

Everything leading up the next paragraph feels great because I did my best when things did not go super smoothly. I hung onto second and won my age division. I don’t want to sound negative because I love triathlon, and to say a day of racing (and 2nd place) is a bad day is pure old-fashioned communism.

However, my heart hurts because I was beaten by 19 seconds… Looking back I know I should have had another 20 seconds of heart and fire inside of me to go for the win. The only bad thing about the day is that I have to live with the fact that I didn’t chase him down.

I am sure I was tired at the moment in the race, and I did run hard (~20:10 five kilometer equivalent) but as a “finisher” with an excellent sprint, I let myself down. And now I have to live with that over the winter. Maybe that is exactly what I need for motivation for a good hard winter of training. I just know post race something in my heart was telling me I missed an opportunity.

Aside from that I am happy with the race, just being able to race is a treasured feat. The bad stuff before and during the race just make the story better. I would do it all over again tomorrow if I had the chance.