If you've read the previous post you know that I floundered my way through my first open water swim and wobbled into the transition area at something less than a sauntering stroll of a pace.
My head and vision were starting to clear as I plunked myself down to get on my shoes. The bike is usually my strongest leg...I'm typically in the top third of all participants pace wise on the bike...so this is where I usually can make up some time. But I forgot one of the key training lessons of triathlon: "Live in the moment". I was definitely NOT in the moment as I rode out onto the course. I was still flabbergasted over the swim.
The Rattlesnake bike course is VERY hilly with a net rise in elevation of over 750 ft. That means you do get some downhills but they all seem to slope in to the middle of the course so that you up to the turn around and up to the finish. I spent most of the bike leg trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside of me. I wound up with a decent time but my pace was about what I would normally do just riding around town.
I came in to transition glad to know I had only a 5k left to go. Of course, the run is usually what I am worst at...
With one seriously bad knee and a long recovery time after my race back in June I hadn't been able to do any run training for nearly two months. My plan going in to this run was to keep a brisk walking pace...which for me is between an 11 and 12 minute mile...and jog a bit on the downhills. The plan seemed to work ok on the outbound part of the run. Sure I was being regularly passed by people but I was passing occasionally too. At the 1.5 mile turn around point I was feeling like maybe I hadn't pushed myself hard enough...then I started thing about the swim AGAIN and had to work on stomach content maintenance for a few hundred yards.
With about a half mile to go I came up on the two ladies from CWW triathlon club with whom I had shared bike rack in the transition area. This normally would have felt pretty good since they started in the water at least 15 - 20 minutes ahead of me...but they had both run the olympic distance tri the day before. I thanked them for waiting for me and told them they could go ahead and finish if they liked. We wound up jockeying back and forth...them passing me when I walked me getting them back when I jogged...until I heard them coming up behind me one last time with an intent to run through the finish.
Up until that moment I was pretty sure I was wiped out enough the my male ego had sunk to the bottom of the lake somewhere. Apparently it found me out at the end of the run course and I managed to run through the last quarter mile..."run" being a very relative term at that point.
At the end of the day my time was a 1:37:53...not impressive by any stretch but not one to complain about really. My pace for the swim and run were close to what I had hoped for even if the bike was a little slow. But I DID learn a crucial lesson or two:
1. Don't try something entirely new for the first time in competition.
Open water swimming + wet suit combined for a harrowing mental experience
2. "Live in the moment" means forgetting what you just did and focusing on what you're doing.
That would have helped in both the bike AND run.
3. "Live in the moment" also means focusing your mind on truth.
I knew what to do but let my mind wander to "oh my gosh's" and "what if's"
Yes, I will try an open water swim tri again someday.
Somehow though I think those three lessons apply beyond just doing triathlons.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Rattlesnake Triathlon - A first tri at open water
I had read, several times, that doing an open water swim in a triathlon was much different than doing a pool swim. Going into today I had never done an open water tri...though I had done a couple with pool swims. Now, I've swam in rivers, lakes, even in the ocean quite a bit...but I was NOT ready for THIS.
We entered the water in a time trial start, 5 seconds between each person, which is designed to avoid the chaos of a mass shotgun start. Instantly I recognized that all of the usual proprioceptive ques that help me keep a steady pace in the pool were gone. Within the first fifty meters I was thrashing. My heart rate was way up, I couldn't go more than a handful of strokes without peeking up to see if I was on a good line. I was worried about running into people...it was horrible.
Truth be known I can do 500 meters in a pool with relative ease at a decent pace but by the time we got out to the 250 meter mark and made the turn for shore I was worried I might not make it. There are kayaks along the the way that you can grab on to if you are in a bad enough way and as long as you don't propel yourself forward there is no penalty...but I did NOT want to be that guy.
With 50 meters to go I had a couple guys pass me and ask if I was ok. I was kicking along on my back trying to catch my breath. I pushed myself to roll back over and dug in hard for about 30 meters and finally found lake bottom. I managed to get my feet under me and dragged myself onto the beach only to find that I was staggering like late night drunk. I couldn't keep anything like a straight line, my eyes were doing weird focus things, I felt overwhelming panic and relief all at the same time and knew I still had to bike 12 miles and run a 5K.
Normaly I can get a good jog on after the swim but this was a lurching survival walk. I stumbled past the people who were there to help us out of our wetsuits knowing that if I lay down to let them pull it off my legs I wouldn't be able to get back up. I CLEARLY remember the small, rational, analytical part of my brain chipping in with, "Ok, that was ridiculous. You could have died. We're never doing THAT again."
My transition time, which doesn't start until AFTER you stagger in to the transition area, was close to two minutes longer than my normal...only 1/3 of the race down and I was spent.
to be continued...
We entered the water in a time trial start, 5 seconds between each person, which is designed to avoid the chaos of a mass shotgun start. Instantly I recognized that all of the usual proprioceptive ques that help me keep a steady pace in the pool were gone. Within the first fifty meters I was thrashing. My heart rate was way up, I couldn't go more than a handful of strokes without peeking up to see if I was on a good line. I was worried about running into people...it was horrible.
Truth be known I can do 500 meters in a pool with relative ease at a decent pace but by the time we got out to the 250 meter mark and made the turn for shore I was worried I might not make it. There are kayaks along the the way that you can grab on to if you are in a bad enough way and as long as you don't propel yourself forward there is no penalty...but I did NOT want to be that guy.
With 50 meters to go I had a couple guys pass me and ask if I was ok. I was kicking along on my back trying to catch my breath. I pushed myself to roll back over and dug in hard for about 30 meters and finally found lake bottom. I managed to get my feet under me and dragged myself onto the beach only to find that I was staggering like late night drunk. I couldn't keep anything like a straight line, my eyes were doing weird focus things, I felt overwhelming panic and relief all at the same time and knew I still had to bike 12 miles and run a 5K.
Normaly I can get a good jog on after the swim but this was a lurching survival walk. I stumbled past the people who were there to help us out of our wetsuits knowing that if I lay down to let them pull it off my legs I wouldn't be able to get back up. I CLEARLY remember the small, rational, analytical part of my brain chipping in with, "Ok, that was ridiculous. You could have died. We're never doing THAT again."
My transition time, which doesn't start until AFTER you stagger in to the transition area, was close to two minutes longer than my normal...only 1/3 of the race down and I was spent.
to be continued...
Monday, July 20, 2009
"Class" Reunion
This past Saturday was an amazing day, encompassing the full spectrum of human experience...ok maybe that is overstating it but it was a blast.
I had the chance to attend a "what's the next thing now that you're done teaching high school band" party for an amazing guy, John Riggle.
Two hundred or so folks showed up to the picnic and for close to a full day celebrated this man's influence on our lives. As the sun started to set there were a number of folks who were not quite ready to be finished so for 40 or so folk the party moved to a local burgery.
Finally, having closed the place down, the last few of us started to wander out to out cars.
I got in behind the wheel, closed the door and heard this wierd kind of slithering, crunching sound behind me. Looking back over my shoulder I saw the shattered remains of the back passenger window. My brain didn't instantly process what I was seeing. My first though was, "Wow, someone must have accidentally thrown a rock through my window."
Of course, it was probably not a rock and certainly not an accident.
Parked in a well lit parking lot, directly under a light, someone had seen my bags on the back seat and decided they needed them more than I did. Which means I "donated":
1 Commuter/transition bag back pack containing:
1 Canon digital camera + 2 lenses + 100 or so pictures from the day + pictures of my Nieces dedication
1 ATT tilt cell phone + ALL the phone numbers of anyone I know
1 key to my car back on Colorado (the ONLY key I have mind you)
1 Champion carry-on duffle containing:
1 old favorite Disney baseball cap
1 pair of running shoes
1 full set of work out clothing
2 favorites shirts
1 favorite pair of shorts
1 set of business meeting clothes for Monday
Sundry toiletries and underwear
Fortunately my laptop, Bose headphones and ipod were on the floor of the front seat and escaped notice.
Sunday was a full day hassle of trying to get rental cars managed, computer power back, cell phones handled, teeth brushed, and clean clothed...but here's the thing:
Had you told me when I left that I would have a great day followed by a HUGE hassle...I'd still do it all over again.
If you weren't in band in high school, or some similar organization, then you can't possibly understand what it is to "live" with a group of folks for most of your high school years.
Other than thinking of band people as geeks you wouldn't get the notion of competing in something that is physical, mental, and artistic all at the same time.
If you've not been back to a reunion with those folks then you wouldn't understand how the connection, and the stories last and...you certainly wouldn't realize the depth of influence that someone like a John Riggle can have on so many people.
So band peeps? It was AWESOME...I hope to stay in closer touch with many of you having reconnected.
Mr. Riggle? Thanks for al you poured into us
Ed? Thanks for all your work on an amazing shindig
Elaine? Thanks for letting me use your cell phone to call the cops. :)
Kate, Denise, and Joel? Thanks for hanging out until he was done dusting for prints.
Sunnyvale High School Marching Jets?
Thank you for a truly "Class" Reunion...
...and send me pics. Mine are inside a camera that someone will no doubt get really cheap at the flea market next weekend.
I had the chance to attend a "what's the next thing now that you're done teaching high school band" party for an amazing guy, John Riggle.
Two hundred or so folks showed up to the picnic and for close to a full day celebrated this man's influence on our lives. As the sun started to set there were a number of folks who were not quite ready to be finished so for 40 or so folk the party moved to a local burgery.
Finally, having closed the place down, the last few of us started to wander out to out cars.
I got in behind the wheel, closed the door and heard this wierd kind of slithering, crunching sound behind me. Looking back over my shoulder I saw the shattered remains of the back passenger window. My brain didn't instantly process what I was seeing. My first though was, "Wow, someone must have accidentally thrown a rock through my window."
Of course, it was probably not a rock and certainly not an accident.
Parked in a well lit parking lot, directly under a light, someone had seen my bags on the back seat and decided they needed them more than I did. Which means I "donated":
1 Commuter/transition bag back pack containing:
1 Canon digital camera + 2 lenses + 100 or so pictures from the day + pictures of my Nieces dedication
1 ATT tilt cell phone + ALL the phone numbers of anyone I know
1 key to my car back on Colorado (the ONLY key I have mind you)
1 Champion carry-on duffle containing:
1 old favorite Disney baseball cap
1 pair of running shoes
1 full set of work out clothing
2 favorites shirts
1 favorite pair of shorts
1 set of business meeting clothes for Monday
Sundry toiletries and underwear
Fortunately my laptop, Bose headphones and ipod were on the floor of the front seat and escaped notice.
Sunday was a full day hassle of trying to get rental cars managed, computer power back, cell phones handled, teeth brushed, and clean clothed...but here's the thing:
Had you told me when I left that I would have a great day followed by a HUGE hassle...I'd still do it all over again.
If you weren't in band in high school, or some similar organization, then you can't possibly understand what it is to "live" with a group of folks for most of your high school years.
Other than thinking of band people as geeks you wouldn't get the notion of competing in something that is physical, mental, and artistic all at the same time.
If you've not been back to a reunion with those folks then you wouldn't understand how the connection, and the stories last and...you certainly wouldn't realize the depth of influence that someone like a John Riggle can have on so many people.
So band peeps? It was AWESOME...I hope to stay in closer touch with many of you having reconnected.
Mr. Riggle? Thanks for al you poured into us
Ed? Thanks for all your work on an amazing shindig
Elaine? Thanks for letting me use your cell phone to call the cops. :)
Kate, Denise, and Joel? Thanks for hanging out until he was done dusting for prints.
Sunnyvale High School Marching Jets?
Thank you for a truly "Class" Reunion...
...and send me pics. Mine are inside a camera that someone will no doubt get really cheap at the flea market next weekend.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Another one bites the dust
It was my birthday yesterday... 48, I think...I don't keep as close track as I used to.
Thanks to everyone who sent along their well wishes!!
Although this particular number is not a birthday of any special significance I did get the one gift I was specifically hoping to receive.
I got a book.
Not just any book mind you.
THIS book has been out of print for years.
There are still copies around ranging in price from fifty to well over three hundred dollars.
Is it some ancient tome containing the wisdom of the ages?
The collected works of some obscure philosophical author?
Some erudite historical commentary?
Nope.
The book, for which I had been hoping, is Sir MacHinery by Tom McGowan published in 1970.
It is right around 150 pages, probably a fourth or fifth grade reading level, and one of my favorite books of all time.
I can trace my love of Authurian lore, my penchant for all things Tolkien, my fascination with fantasy and science fiction, all of them... back to the original reading of this one book as a kid.
(It even fueled, no doubt, my admiration and obsession with all things Scottish!!)
It was an amazing juxtaposition to find myself back in those pages last night. Transported back to Strathgow and the castle atop Auld Clootie. To be reading at 48 what I first read at 9 or 10 with the same fascination and anticipation.
No flimsy paperback, dime store novel this but a well bound, hard backed, built to last companion. Pages yellowed with age but no less crisp then when the book was first bound. Reading slowly through the first five or six chapters was like a reunion with a long lost friend. (MANY thanks to my wife who found a copy that is in GREAT shape.)
What stories have impacted you over the years?
What are the tales that have become milestones or directional guides along the road?
When was the last time you revisited one of them?
Takes it from the voice of experience, from one who has seen yet another year "bite the dust", it is well worth unpacking one of those auld stories, putting youself back in the mindset of discovery and younger days, and sitting down to revisit an old friend.
Thanks to everyone who sent along their well wishes!!
Although this particular number is not a birthday of any special significance I did get the one gift I was specifically hoping to receive.
I got a book.
Not just any book mind you.
THIS book has been out of print for years.
There are still copies around ranging in price from fifty to well over three hundred dollars.
Is it some ancient tome containing the wisdom of the ages?
The collected works of some obscure philosophical author?
Some erudite historical commentary?
Nope.
The book, for which I had been hoping, is Sir MacHinery by Tom McGowan published in 1970.
It is right around 150 pages, probably a fourth or fifth grade reading level, and one of my favorite books of all time.
I can trace my love of Authurian lore, my penchant for all things Tolkien, my fascination with fantasy and science fiction, all of them... back to the original reading of this one book as a kid.
(It even fueled, no doubt, my admiration and obsession with all things Scottish!!)
It was an amazing juxtaposition to find myself back in those pages last night. Transported back to Strathgow and the castle atop Auld Clootie. To be reading at 48 what I first read at 9 or 10 with the same fascination and anticipation.
No flimsy paperback, dime store novel this but a well bound, hard backed, built to last companion. Pages yellowed with age but no less crisp then when the book was first bound. Reading slowly through the first five or six chapters was like a reunion with a long lost friend. (MANY thanks to my wife who found a copy that is in GREAT shape.)
What stories have impacted you over the years?
What are the tales that have become milestones or directional guides along the road?
When was the last time you revisited one of them?
Takes it from the voice of experience, from one who has seen yet another year "bite the dust", it is well worth unpacking one of those auld stories, putting youself back in the mindset of discovery and younger days, and sitting down to revisit an old friend.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The eyes of faith are prejudiced
I grew up in a Christian, church-attending, bible-believing home.
Yes, I believe that stuff.
At some point around my mid-twenties I started to think that the central tenants of Christianity were so rationally sound that it would be reasonable for ANYONE to believe if they just had someone to explain it to them clearly.
While I still believe, here in my forties, that there is a "rational soundness" there I have come to understand that my upbringing, my early immersion in the stories of the Bible, has created a faith based bias in me. I am prejudiced.
By way of simple example, imagine someone with NO knowledge of the Bible or Christian belief reading this tidbit:
2Kings 6
1 The company of the prophets said to Elisha, "Look, the place where we meet with you is too small for us. 2 Let us go to the Jordan, where each of us can get a pole; and let us build a place there for us to live."
And he said, "Go."
Yes, I believe that stuff.
At some point around my mid-twenties I started to think that the central tenants of Christianity were so rationally sound that it would be reasonable for ANYONE to believe if they just had someone to explain it to them clearly.
While I still believe, here in my forties, that there is a "rational soundness" there I have come to understand that my upbringing, my early immersion in the stories of the Bible, has created a faith based bias in me. I am prejudiced.
By way of simple example, imagine someone with NO knowledge of the Bible or Christian belief reading this tidbit:
2Kings 6
1 The company of the prophets said to Elisha, "Look, the place where we meet with you is too small for us. 2 Let us go to the Jordan, where each of us can get a pole; and let us build a place there for us to live."
And he said, "Go."
3 Then one of them said, "Won't you please come with your servants?"
"I will," Elisha replied. 4 And he went with them.
They went to the Jordan and began to cut down trees. 5 As one of them was cutting down a tree, the iron axhead fell into the water. "Oh, my lord," he cried out, "it was borrowed!"
6 The man of God asked, "Where did it fall?" When he showed him the place, Elisha cut a stick and threw it there, and made the iron float. 7 "Lift it out," he said. Then the man reached out his hand and took it.
Or this childhood favorite:
Jonah 1
15 Then they took Jonah and threw him overboard, and the raging sea grew calm. 16 At this the men greatly feared the LORD, and they offered a sacrifice to the LORD and made vows to him.
17 But the LORD provided a great fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was inside the fish three days and three nights.
I, of course, accept these stories at face value. I feel no sense of rational discomfort over them...and I confess that may put me in the minority, even amongst "believers".
But I think it is important to remember, when having conversations with folks who don't share my particular prejudice...the prejudice of faith, that there are pieces of the story that defy rational explanation.
At the end of the day it won't be rational argument that convinces people. It will be lives lived, love expressed, and credence given to those who don't share my biased view of things.
Monday, June 29, 2009
"See you later" auntie...
My wife's aunt, Marlene Hanson passed away in May just six days shy of her 75th birthday.
"Auntie" was an amazing lady in so many ways that it would be hard to describe her love, generosity, and care in anything shy of several chapters.
We celebrated her memorial service last weekend in southern California.
I'm not sure I could have remembered her name the first few years Lib and I were married. She was always just...Auntie. (Auntie as in the light switch position: "On-tee"...NOT as in the tiny picnic pest: "Ant-ee")
Auntie's kitchen was the first place I met Libby's family and her home instantly became associated with my in-law's clan.
She never visited us without wanting to help decorate or landscape or extend her gifts of hospitality to our home.
She LOVED taking people out to eat and DISLIKED letting them pay.
She will be dearly missed by all of us until we have the chance to meet again in heaven.
Aside from the obvious grief at missing our dear Auntie I was struck by something unexpected as we spent time with family and friends last weekend. I had probably been to her house less than a dozen times in 18 years of marriage to Libby so it seemed odd that I should feel such a sense of attachment to her home but I was sad to drive away from it for what may be the last time.
I think it may be that I always knew I had a "safe place" there and now my world has one less safe place.
Oh we still have family in southern Ca., and we'll still have many reasons to visit, but not to visit Glendale. No reason to visit the house on the hill.
I think I perhaps knew, without knowing, that if I found myself anywhere within a tank of gas of Auntie's, or anywhere in southern Ca and in need, there was a place I could go where I would be welcomed and cared for and...safe.
Again, it isn't that those places don't exist...there are a number of them in somewhat close proximity...but there is now one less.
When my mom moved to Oregon from the house we grew all grew up in in Sunnyvale we lost that location...but we gained a location up north. Sad to see the house go but excited for mom's new adventure. But this is different. This time the person and the place are gone.
It makes me wonder what part this "geographical component" plays in many of our relationships. Maybe I'm just getting old but I don't like having one less friend and one less safe place in the world.
Could it be that her gift of hospitality was so strong that we not only miss the person, but the influence of her gift on the body, or in this case the family, as well? And that her home was an embodiment of her gift?
That has a familiar ring to it. I think I have felt THAT before.
We do know that Auntie has gone ahead of us to get her garden ready so that she can have us all over when we get to heaven. Maybe, until then, we need to step up our own gifts, and in particular our own hospitality, to make up for her being gone.
"Auntie" was an amazing lady in so many ways that it would be hard to describe her love, generosity, and care in anything shy of several chapters.
We celebrated her memorial service last weekend in southern California.
I'm not sure I could have remembered her name the first few years Lib and I were married. She was always just...Auntie. (Auntie as in the light switch position: "On-tee"...NOT as in the tiny picnic pest: "Ant-ee")
Auntie's kitchen was the first place I met Libby's family and her home instantly became associated with my in-law's clan.
She never visited us without wanting to help decorate or landscape or extend her gifts of hospitality to our home.
She LOVED taking people out to eat and DISLIKED letting them pay.
She will be dearly missed by all of us until we have the chance to meet again in heaven.
Aside from the obvious grief at missing our dear Auntie I was struck by something unexpected as we spent time with family and friends last weekend. I had probably been to her house less than a dozen times in 18 years of marriage to Libby so it seemed odd that I should feel such a sense of attachment to her home but I was sad to drive away from it for what may be the last time.
I think it may be that I always knew I had a "safe place" there and now my world has one less safe place.
Oh we still have family in southern Ca., and we'll still have many reasons to visit, but not to visit Glendale. No reason to visit the house on the hill.
I think I perhaps knew, without knowing, that if I found myself anywhere within a tank of gas of Auntie's, or anywhere in southern Ca and in need, there was a place I could go where I would be welcomed and cared for and...safe.
Again, it isn't that those places don't exist...there are a number of them in somewhat close proximity...but there is now one less.
When my mom moved to Oregon from the house we grew all grew up in in Sunnyvale we lost that location...but we gained a location up north. Sad to see the house go but excited for mom's new adventure. But this is different. This time the person and the place are gone.
It makes me wonder what part this "geographical component" plays in many of our relationships. Maybe I'm just getting old but I don't like having one less friend and one less safe place in the world.
Could it be that her gift of hospitality was so strong that we not only miss the person, but the influence of her gift on the body, or in this case the family, as well? And that her home was an embodiment of her gift?
That has a familiar ring to it. I think I have felt THAT before.
We do know that Auntie has gone ahead of us to get her garden ready so that she can have us all over when we get to heaven. Maybe, until then, we need to step up our own gifts, and in particular our own hospitality, to make up for her being gone.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
First triathlon of the summer!
Back in 2006 I had my first experience running a triathlon...I find it humorous as I write that because a LOT of people call it "running" a triathlon when really that is only one of the stages, albeit the most painful...and this past Sunday I stepped back into that world.
The Broomfield MiniHaha is a great "first timers" race. The swim is 300M (12 laps), the bike is 11 miles and the run is 2 miles. In 2006 my time 1:15:09, good enough for 18th in may age division. I was hoping to break the hour mark this year.
The swim in this event is in a pool which means folks are grouped in heats by estimated swim times. I had submitted a 6 minute time but my fastest training swim was more like 5:20. You typically will have as many as five people in your heat, in your lane, so as you get ready to enter the pool everyone compares times to determine how to best order the group. My group decided I should go first...which is good. You run the least chance of having to have to pass people that way.
I got started in the swim and glanced at the clock when I finished my first 50M. I came in at 40 seconds which was faster than I wanted to go. (You run the risk of wiping out all of your energy in the swim just to pick up 40 or 50 seconds when the next leg, the bike, offers the best chance to cut down your time by multiple minutes.) I managed to slow my pace a bit over the remaining laps, even allowing another racer to pass me at the wall once, and exited the pool at 5 minutes 30 seconds...about what I had hoped for although I probably could have finished in about 4:50.
I felt good as I made the jog out to T1. (For those new to the sport T1 is "transition one" where you go from swimming to putting on shoes, shirt, helmet etc for the bike leg.) I got out fairly well, not sure how well as this event doesn't use timing devices that give you split times, but I felt good getting on the bike. I started passing people almost immediately.
The bike leg makes a couple turns going slightly down hill then starts into about a mile and a half climb of varying steepness. I was cranking! I had exited the pool near the front of my own heat and I was passing people from the previous heat most of whom had had at least a five minute head start on me. I got to the top of the hill feeling good and flew down the back side of the 5.5 mile loop.
Coming around the loop the second time I was feeling good and VERY glad to be done with the hill climb as I crested and started down. On the first downhill section I set my sites on a guy ahead of me in a bright green bike jersey on a pretty expensive looking bike.
I got past him faster than I thought I would but I had to slow down as I came up on a sharp right turn with a slower biker in front of me.
That gave him the chance to get me back on the second downhill section.
"I knew you'd be back." I said, as I looked at him coming up on my outside.
I fell in behind him for a short stretch but then my competetive nature took over and I decided to kick up the speed and go by him.
To make a long story short I passed multiple people on both laps and probably maintained close to a 19-20mph average over the 11 miles. I was feeling REALLY good.
Of course then came the run...
I got in and out of T2 pretty quickly, change of shoes, ditch the helmet, throw on a visor and go.
I was even moving decently without the usual hobble that you get when you first get off the bike.
But I knew right away this was going to be painful.
My doctor had already advised me a year earlier that my knee was bad enough that I ought not to run at all. I had talked him into agreeing that I WAS going to run but that I would train for it the least. My knee felt fair to midlin as I made my way...slowly...through the first mile. I remember clearly thinking that I did not feel nearly as winded as I thought I would but that my legs seemed to be lead weights.
At the mid point of the run is the one water station so I grabbed a cup and walked briefly while I drank it....another place I might have saved 15-30 seconds had I kept up my slow jog...I managed to keep my self moving without walking for the remainder of the run.
With less than 100 yards to go I heard someone coming up behind me.
"Let's go specialized (my bike is a Specialized) you had me!"
I tried to keep pace with "green jersey" but there was no way.
I knew I had caught up to him from way behind on the bike so I figured my overall time would be better than his anyway...SO NYA NYA NYA!!!
I did find enough gas in the tank to "sprint" up the last 30 yards or so into the finish...
1:02:45
I missed my goal by less than three minutes!!!
I was both elated and bummed at the same time. Elated to have finished...it is quite a rush if you've never done a tri...and bummed to have come so close. (I did help a wee bit to have my time be good enough to finish in the top ten of my age group.)
Because of the way the pool heats had worked out I was able to get back to the pool in time to cheer on my buddy Scott who was doing his first triathlon ever. It's fun to be done and then get to cheer on a friend through transitions and finishing.
So now, after a couple days of recovery, we're ready to start training for the next one in August which, in turn, will lead to another in September. If you're ready to give it a go let me know and we'll help you get started. There is nothing quite like competing in a finishing a triathlon.
Yes, I know, you're worried about the swim. Everyone is. But it can be done.
You just have to be willing to tri.
The Broomfield MiniHaha is a great "first timers" race. The swim is 300M (12 laps), the bike is 11 miles and the run is 2 miles. In 2006 my time 1:15:09, good enough for 18th in may age division. I was hoping to break the hour mark this year.
The swim in this event is in a pool which means folks are grouped in heats by estimated swim times. I had submitted a 6 minute time but my fastest training swim was more like 5:20. You typically will have as many as five people in your heat, in your lane, so as you get ready to enter the pool everyone compares times to determine how to best order the group. My group decided I should go first...which is good. You run the least chance of having to have to pass people that way.
I got started in the swim and glanced at the clock when I finished my first 50M. I came in at 40 seconds which was faster than I wanted to go. (You run the risk of wiping out all of your energy in the swim just to pick up 40 or 50 seconds when the next leg, the bike, offers the best chance to cut down your time by multiple minutes.) I managed to slow my pace a bit over the remaining laps, even allowing another racer to pass me at the wall once, and exited the pool at 5 minutes 30 seconds...about what I had hoped for although I probably could have finished in about 4:50.
I felt good as I made the jog out to T1. (For those new to the sport T1 is "transition one" where you go from swimming to putting on shoes, shirt, helmet etc for the bike leg.) I got out fairly well, not sure how well as this event doesn't use timing devices that give you split times, but I felt good getting on the bike. I started passing people almost immediately.
The bike leg makes a couple turns going slightly down hill then starts into about a mile and a half climb of varying steepness. I was cranking! I had exited the pool near the front of my own heat and I was passing people from the previous heat most of whom had had at least a five minute head start on me. I got to the top of the hill feeling good and flew down the back side of the 5.5 mile loop.
Coming around the loop the second time I was feeling good and VERY glad to be done with the hill climb as I crested and started down. On the first downhill section I set my sites on a guy ahead of me in a bright green bike jersey on a pretty expensive looking bike.
I got past him faster than I thought I would but I had to slow down as I came up on a sharp right turn with a slower biker in front of me.
That gave him the chance to get me back on the second downhill section.
"I knew you'd be back." I said, as I looked at him coming up on my outside.
I fell in behind him for a short stretch but then my competetive nature took over and I decided to kick up the speed and go by him.
To make a long story short I passed multiple people on both laps and probably maintained close to a 19-20mph average over the 11 miles. I was feeling REALLY good.
Of course then came the run...
I got in and out of T2 pretty quickly, change of shoes, ditch the helmet, throw on a visor and go.
I was even moving decently without the usual hobble that you get when you first get off the bike.
But I knew right away this was going to be painful.
My doctor had already advised me a year earlier that my knee was bad enough that I ought not to run at all. I had talked him into agreeing that I WAS going to run but that I would train for it the least. My knee felt fair to midlin as I made my way...slowly...through the first mile. I remember clearly thinking that I did not feel nearly as winded as I thought I would but that my legs seemed to be lead weights.
At the mid point of the run is the one water station so I grabbed a cup and walked briefly while I drank it....another place I might have saved 15-30 seconds had I kept up my slow jog...I managed to keep my self moving without walking for the remainder of the run.
With less than 100 yards to go I heard someone coming up behind me.
"Let's go specialized (my bike is a Specialized) you had me!"
I tried to keep pace with "green jersey" but there was no way.
I knew I had caught up to him from way behind on the bike so I figured my overall time would be better than his anyway...SO NYA NYA NYA!!!
I did find enough gas in the tank to "sprint" up the last 30 yards or so into the finish...
1:02:45
I missed my goal by less than three minutes!!!
I was both elated and bummed at the same time. Elated to have finished...it is quite a rush if you've never done a tri...and bummed to have come so close. (I did help a wee bit to have my time be good enough to finish in the top ten of my age group.)
Because of the way the pool heats had worked out I was able to get back to the pool in time to cheer on my buddy Scott who was doing his first triathlon ever. It's fun to be done and then get to cheer on a friend through transitions and finishing.
So now, after a couple days of recovery, we're ready to start training for the next one in August which, in turn, will lead to another in September. If you're ready to give it a go let me know and we'll help you get started. There is nothing quite like competing in a finishing a triathlon.
Yes, I know, you're worried about the swim. Everyone is. But it can be done.
You just have to be willing to tri.
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