At long last, the 2013 triathlon season has come to an end. It was an emotional roller coaster, filled with disappointment, joy beyond belief, and a renewed love for the sport. The adventures were exciting, unpredictable, and rewarding. Sitting down reflecting upon them makes me hungry for more in 2014.
The final race was Ironman Florida in Panama City Beach. The three week gap between Kona and Florida meant no serious training that could wreck me, but no slacking either. As a result, when race day came around, I had very little fatigue, but my overall fitness was relatively low. Discipline would be the key to success. Unable to push the power that I hit in Lake Placid and Kona, I knew I would have to keep my stroke as long and smooth as possible, stay as aerodynamic as possible on the bike course, and hang on to the best pace possible on the run course. The goal was to go as fast as possible on relatively mediocre fitness, but more importantly, to win the male 18-24 division and get a spot back in Kona for 2014.
Swim
The swim began with a "self-seeded mass start." In other words, it was a mass start. Call it what you want, but seeding by predicted finish time didn't seem to alleviate the early congestion. The 5-6 foot swells in the first 200 yards probably didn't help either. Other than the chaos of the start, the swim was mostly unevetful. First loop was finished in just over 28 minutes, then back into the swells for the second loop. Without the mahem of the mass start on the second lap, I had no reason to push the pace, and finished the course in just over 59 minutes. Into transition, I felt that my swim wasn't necessarily fast, but fast enough. I didn't know where I stood within my age group out of the water, but knew that if there were any others in front of me, they couldn't be too far up the road, and there was still a 112 mile bike course to catch up if necessary.
Bike
This bike course is one of the flattest in the world, and the winds were very favorable on race day. As soon as I mounted my bike, I could tell it was going to be a good day. The temperatures were cool and my leg turnover was quick. All I had to do was lock into my aerobars and settle into a groove, and my bike practically rode itself. I eventually caught up to a small group of guys down the road who must have had some killer swim splits. By about 20 miles in I was riding in a group of about 5 riders, keeping our legal distance. Rather than trying to push the pace and break away from them, I decided to settle into this group and take in some necessary calories. The pace was more than fast enough, and the energy savings of riding 10 meters behind the next rider is substantial enough. About 50 miles into the course, we saw the first male professionals going through an out and back stretch, and shortly after that, the first amatuers as well. A quick count, and I was shocked to see that not only was I sitting in the first place in the age group, but also within about the top 20 or so of all amatuers. After the turnaround I kept my eyes peeled for the second guy in my age group, but never saw him before the roads split and we continued north, meaning I had at least 15 minutes on the next one. Beautiful! Shortly after the 70 mile mark, things began to spread out as we fought a cross/head wind, and I was only riding with 2 other guys. By mile 80, it was just me and one other. Around mile 90 we made the turn to return south, and the wind was square at our backs. Unfortunately, the guy I was riding with got tagged for a drafting penalty and I was forced to ride the remaining miles alone. I pushed the pace to bridge the gap up to the next group of professional women and male amateurs, and then broke away from them in the last 5 miles. I came into second transition with a 4:41 bike split all alone, very pleased with where I was sitting.
Run
After taking my time in transition to get lots of vaseline and sunscreen, it was onto the marathon. Conditions were mild, with temperatures hovering in the low 80s and the wind off the beach giving a cool breeze. The run course was also very flat, which meant moderating the effort would be a little bit easier. Knowing my lead was pretty decent, I decided to open up the marathon just a touch faster than what I thought I could hold the entire race. Like the bike course, it was an out and back format, with two loops, so there would be 3 opportunities to see the gap to second over the course. My plan was to do the first 8-10 miles quick as possible to extend my lead, and not allow anybody behind me to have any hope of beating me when they see the gap, then just keep moving forward to the finish line. I ticked off the opening miles in 7:00-7:10 per mile, not lightning fast but certainly quicker than goal pace, and after the first turnaround, the gap to second was 38 minutes. Beautiful! A little quick mental math, and with just 16 miles left, that meant second would have to take almost 2:30 out of my lead per mile, so I could safely slow down to 8:30 per mile knowing nobody would likely be dropping solid 6 minute miles. My running stride moved at about a 7:40-8:00 pace, with 20-30 second walking breaks at about every other aid station. I knew the only way I could lose at this point was if severe dehydration or the infamous "bonk" were to hit me like a rock, so I just took my time to get in the necessary fluids and calories to carry me across the line. At the final turnaround I had one last chance to see the gap to second, and it was now only 36 minutes, still more than enough to guarantee a win if I kept some sort of running stride. With only 4 miles to go, I was ready to kick things in. Unfortunately, it was time to pay up for my slightly reckless opening miles. The pace began to slip to 8:30-9:00 per mile, fast enough to keep my lead but certainly not much of a finishing kick. After dragging myself back into town, the crowds made things feel effortless for the last mile. Adrenaline surged through my blood, and in the finish chute with two tenths of a mile to go, I took a quick look behind me, saw nobody, and put a proud index finger to the sky. "Number 1!" I thought to myself as an otherworldly sensation took over my body. A sloppy, but sufficient, 3:34 marathon brought me to the line in 9:24:35, 87th overall, and most importantly, 1st place in the male 18-24 division.
The next day I went down to claim my second Kona slot. You would think it would be less cool than the first time without the novelty, but on the contrary, it felt nearly as great, if not better! I won in dominant fashion, keeping a 36 minute gap to second all the way to the line, and took advantage of my fresh and rested legs to compensate for lower fitness and less training. I think its safe to say, however, that the key to this race was calling upon my Ironman experience to know what my body would be capable of late in the marathon. My friend James and I joked earlier this year that running sucks, and we just need to swim and bike so fast that we can walk the run course. Ironically, this is sort of how my race in Florida panned out.
It is now about 2 weeks into the offseason. Since Ironman Florida I have enjoyed the Electric Daisy Carnival in Orlando, played some ice hockey, and tasted a few beers and wines. There also may have been a handful of cheeseburgers and donuts thrown in there. This season was brutal- since January I have covered 273 miles swimming, 7633 miles by bike, and 1538 miles of running, hands down the greatest cumulative training load of my life. Over the next couple of weeks, I will let my body get out of shape and restore the balance to the universe before hitting the regimented training real hard. This season has taught me, in more ways than one, that balance is everything. For every action there is an equal/opposite reaction. Homeostasis. The point of hurting in training is to pay it forward and hurt a little less in a race. Likewise, in order to get incredibly fit for a period of time, one must also become unfit at another period of time. I had a great season, and met some pretty substantial goals, but I have no delusions about how being truly top tier. If I had finished 9:24 in the male 25-29 division at Florida, it would have only been good enough for 4th, and just miss a Kona qualification. I'll have to step up my game in 2014 to compete in that age group, so the plan is to recover fully from 2013 and get after it. This was definitely the best season so far, but I can promise you, there's more where that came from.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
The Ironman World Championship, Kona!
What is there to say? No words can really express how incredible it was to compete in the Ironman World Championships. Nevertheless, I'll try to put a few together.
It was a long and strenuous journey from New York to Hawaii, but as soon as our plane touched down on the big island, life was good. The first thing I saw looking out the window was the legendary lava fields of Kona, a desolate, otherworldly kind of place. That's when it really hit me- I would be racing in the biggest, most renowned triathlon on the planet this Saturday. It might sound cheesy, but I was already a winner!
Training for this race had gone incredibly well. My two biggest training weeks had been put behind me, my times for a 42 mile bike ride and an 8 mile run had never been better, and the long rides and runs had been awesome. The week after my big training block, though, my head, throat, and chest began to feel a little congested. With the race about 10 days away and no time to take chances, I decided to see my doctor, who diagnosed an upper respiratory infection and prescribed an antibiotic. Adjusting accordingly, my taper training plan effectively morphed into a "get healthy by race day please" plan, topping out at about an hour a day of low intensity exercise just to keep the muscles firing and familiar.
Needless to say, my performance expectations dropped like a rock. But remember, I was already a winner, so who cares? My goal for the race was just to beat my time in Lake Placid from July, 10:18. Most people say you can't go as fast in Kona as you did in your qualifier race, just doesn't happen, but with the slightly gentler topography in Hawaii compared to the Adirondacks and a couple months of additional training mileage, I had confidence that it was doable.
On race day I woke up after a restless night of "sleep," and felt less congested than the mornings earlier that week. Quick breakfast, iced coffee, and off to the race start. After setting my bike up with race fuel and putting air in the tires, I slipped into my swim skin and caked on the sunscreen. A quick "love you, see you in 9 to 12 hours" to my parents and Annie, and down to the beach for the swim start.
Swim
There are few experiences more rattling than beginning a swim race with 2000 other people who are about the same caliber of athlete that you are. The ten minutes beforehand were absolutely painful, just knowing what kind of carnage was ahead. The last minute before the start were a lifetime. Then the cannon sounded. I began the swim "near" the front, but so did about 500 athletes. Arms and legs were everywhere, the washing machine was on. For whatever reason, I felt incredibly calm in the ensuing chaos. After the first 500 meters or so, my stroke lengthened and I began picking the panicked sprint starters off one by one. After a 57 minute swim in Lake Placid, my goal was to keep it under an hour here (no wetsuit for extra buoyancy, ocean swells instead of calm Mirror Lake). Back at the beach, the time was 1:02:22, a touch slower than hoped for, but plenty of gas in the tank and lots of mile left to pull back time. I cannot remember the last time there were so many athletes near me in first transition! Sixty two minutes would put me near the front of most triathlon fields, but in Kona it is downright average. After donning my helmet and bike shoes, it was onto the road with 458 athletes ahead of me, 25 of whom were in my age group.
Bike
Although it wasn't quite as bad as the swim, the bike course also began incredibly crowded. Words of wisdom from race veterans were that you have two options starting this bike course- push the pace to get away from the bulk of athletes, or sit in and lose time early on. This was a no brainer, using the mantra "ride smart, race conservative." Off they went, while I just put my head down and at my power data and kept the watts low, drinking and eating as much as I could stomach while the going was easier. Using discipline to keep myself tucked into the aerobars and the power low, I still managed to pass a good number of athletes. Finally, about 40 miles in, the tight groups began to spread out and it became obvious who took this thing out too hard. Now it was time to do work. Power went up and I began to pick them off just as in the swim. The long climb to the fishing village, Hawi, began around 50 miles in, and if there is anything I'm good at from training in the mountains, its climbing. The going was never "slow" up to Hawi, since we had some tailwind and the incline wasn't particularly steep, so most of the trip up was tucked away in the aerobars, only coming out of the saddle when the cadence began to drop off. At the turnaround, things finally got fast again as we descended back to near sea level. On the return trip, the winds picked up just a little bit, and the headwind made the final 20 miles of the bike course pretty slow going. I was glad to have enough left in the legs to keep the power up through this stretch, even though it faded just a few watts off target. Unfortunately, my stomach was feeling real full and bloated. The heat may have been making it difficult for me to digest the calories. My Garmin read a high of 96 on the bike course, modest by Kona standards, but not New York weather by any means. For the last hour I switched to all liquids to try and get that under control. My goal was to make up just enough time on the bike to cancel out my mediocre swim, so at least 5:15. When it became clear that it would be under 5 hours, I was more than relieved. With one mile left in the bike course, I choked down a gel knowing I would sit in the change tent a few minutes in transition and things would digest better. The bike split came in at 4:56:00, much faster than anticipated, and my position had climbed to 305th overall, 12th in my age group.
Run
Transition was smooth, slow, and meticulous. The couple minutes here were a small cost for sunscreen and vaseline in the hours to come. Patience would be key for the marathon to come. Once I hit the road, it was hard not to fly through the opening miles, since it was Ali'i Drive and the crowds were enormous. Keeping an eye on my run pace and heart rate, I just tried to let these first miles happen without trying to work too hard. The plan was basically to run the first 20 miles as relaxed as humanly possible, then through it all into the final 6.2 miles with what was left. Leg turnover was pretty quick, but my stride shortened very early on in the run, and the pace fell from about 7:30 per mile to 8:00 per mile. Not a problem, I just kept the turnover high and the heart rate steady. The coolest part of the run course was running up Palani hill and turning onto the Queen K highway, where I was lucky enough to see the leading professional male athlete, Frederick Van Lierde, putting in his last couple of miles to take the title. But no time to get too distracted by helicopters and media vehicles, I had 15 miles of running to go! The Queen K is famous for the heat, especially in the natural energy lab, which is home to solar power panels specifically because it is one of the hottest places on the island. The low winds made for a hot day with particularly high humidity, but we were blessed with some serious cloud cover as well. It wasn't comfortable, don't get me wrong, but I was prepared for the worst, only to be hit with the bad. Through the energy lab and back out onto the Queen K, my pace hovered between 8:00 and 8:20 per mile. Not fast, but as long as there was a running stride, no sweat. Mile 20 came around, and this pace was about as quick as I could get from myself. Then I was caught by somebody who appeared to be in my age group. If there is anytime to put your head down and race, its the closing miles of the race. My pace leaned on the quicker side, but was still pretty slow and steady. We ended up running from about mile 21 to mile 25 side by side, back and forth, neither of us shaking each other. At the final aid station, he made a grab for a drink, and I surged with all my might to put space between us. I had planned to enjoy the final mile along Ali'i drive, savoring every moment. Instead, I was running for my life. I saw my family, but couldn't get much of a smile out with the monkey on my back and the body being so maxed out. Not until I actually crossed the world's greatest finish line was there any opportunity to celebrate, and did I celebrate! Fist pumps, arms in the air, everything! I had finished the Ironman World Championship! The run split came in at 3:34:35, far and away my best marathon finish. Total time was 9:40:51, 15th out of 48 in my age group. Not bad!
After nearly crying like a little girl (ok, I cried my eyes out), it was time for post-race essentials with Annie and my parents, who were stoked that they didn't have to spectate for more than 10 hours this time. We went to the restaurant across the street, and wouldn't you know it, we got the best seats in the house, second floor at the end of the patio overlooking the finish line. Perfect! A few glasses of Kona Brew Longboard Ale, some pork and pineapple tacos, and the biggest race in triathlon behind me, it was time to stumble on back to the condo for some much needed sleep.
After the race, Annie and I hopped on a plane to Maui (after all, we had already come this far) for a little R&R and some Mai Tais. Racing in Kona was a dream come true, and to race so well was just the icing on the cake. Annie has been patient with me waiting for my return from 6+ hour training rides all summer long, and it would have been much more difficult to make it through this journey without her. Thank you, my pineapple princess (inside joke, sorry everybody else). I wouldn't be half as strong if it weren't for both of my parents. You guys raised me to believe in myself, and self confidence is probably the most important part to endurance racing. Thank you for all your love and support for my ambitions through triathlon.
Plot Twist
So as you may or may not know, last November I registered for Ironman Florida, figuring if I didn't punch my ticket to Kona this Summer, it would be my last chance to compete before aging up. I didn't want to look beyond Kona once I qualified at Lake Placid, so there has been little to no discussion about Ironman Florida. It has been a couple of weeks, and it was a tough decision, but I'm going to race again this Saturday. I thought that after my first trip to Kona I would "check the box" and be done. Boy was I wrong... as long as I have some decent fitness coming off of the race in Hawaii, the fire is still burning, and I want to compete there again. The legs are back up to speed, energy levels are returning to normal, and the desire is still there. I'm not sure the fitness is at the same peak it was leading up to Kona, but I'll use every ounce of what's left this weekend. Beat me if you can, but you'll have to enter a world of hurt to do it. More news to come after the race. Thanks for reading! Operation K-13, mission accomplished.
It was a long and strenuous journey from New York to Hawaii, but as soon as our plane touched down on the big island, life was good. The first thing I saw looking out the window was the legendary lava fields of Kona, a desolate, otherworldly kind of place. That's when it really hit me- I would be racing in the biggest, most renowned triathlon on the planet this Saturday. It might sound cheesy, but I was already a winner!
Training for this race had gone incredibly well. My two biggest training weeks had been put behind me, my times for a 42 mile bike ride and an 8 mile run had never been better, and the long rides and runs had been awesome. The week after my big training block, though, my head, throat, and chest began to feel a little congested. With the race about 10 days away and no time to take chances, I decided to see my doctor, who diagnosed an upper respiratory infection and prescribed an antibiotic. Adjusting accordingly, my taper training plan effectively morphed into a "get healthy by race day please" plan, topping out at about an hour a day of low intensity exercise just to keep the muscles firing and familiar.
Needless to say, my performance expectations dropped like a rock. But remember, I was already a winner, so who cares? My goal for the race was just to beat my time in Lake Placid from July, 10:18. Most people say you can't go as fast in Kona as you did in your qualifier race, just doesn't happen, but with the slightly gentler topography in Hawaii compared to the Adirondacks and a couple months of additional training mileage, I had confidence that it was doable.
On race day I woke up after a restless night of "sleep," and felt less congested than the mornings earlier that week. Quick breakfast, iced coffee, and off to the race start. After setting my bike up with race fuel and putting air in the tires, I slipped into my swim skin and caked on the sunscreen. A quick "love you, see you in 9 to 12 hours" to my parents and Annie, and down to the beach for the swim start.
Swim
There are few experiences more rattling than beginning a swim race with 2000 other people who are about the same caliber of athlete that you are. The ten minutes beforehand were absolutely painful, just knowing what kind of carnage was ahead. The last minute before the start were a lifetime. Then the cannon sounded. I began the swim "near" the front, but so did about 500 athletes. Arms and legs were everywhere, the washing machine was on. For whatever reason, I felt incredibly calm in the ensuing chaos. After the first 500 meters or so, my stroke lengthened and I began picking the panicked sprint starters off one by one. After a 57 minute swim in Lake Placid, my goal was to keep it under an hour here (no wetsuit for extra buoyancy, ocean swells instead of calm Mirror Lake). Back at the beach, the time was 1:02:22, a touch slower than hoped for, but plenty of gas in the tank and lots of mile left to pull back time. I cannot remember the last time there were so many athletes near me in first transition! Sixty two minutes would put me near the front of most triathlon fields, but in Kona it is downright average. After donning my helmet and bike shoes, it was onto the road with 458 athletes ahead of me, 25 of whom were in my age group.
Bike
Although it wasn't quite as bad as the swim, the bike course also began incredibly crowded. Words of wisdom from race veterans were that you have two options starting this bike course- push the pace to get away from the bulk of athletes, or sit in and lose time early on. This was a no brainer, using the mantra "ride smart, race conservative." Off they went, while I just put my head down and at my power data and kept the watts low, drinking and eating as much as I could stomach while the going was easier. Using discipline to keep myself tucked into the aerobars and the power low, I still managed to pass a good number of athletes. Finally, about 40 miles in, the tight groups began to spread out and it became obvious who took this thing out too hard. Now it was time to do work. Power went up and I began to pick them off just as in the swim. The long climb to the fishing village, Hawi, began around 50 miles in, and if there is anything I'm good at from training in the mountains, its climbing. The going was never "slow" up to Hawi, since we had some tailwind and the incline wasn't particularly steep, so most of the trip up was tucked away in the aerobars, only coming out of the saddle when the cadence began to drop off. At the turnaround, things finally got fast again as we descended back to near sea level. On the return trip, the winds picked up just a little bit, and the headwind made the final 20 miles of the bike course pretty slow going. I was glad to have enough left in the legs to keep the power up through this stretch, even though it faded just a few watts off target. Unfortunately, my stomach was feeling real full and bloated. The heat may have been making it difficult for me to digest the calories. My Garmin read a high of 96 on the bike course, modest by Kona standards, but not New York weather by any means. For the last hour I switched to all liquids to try and get that under control. My goal was to make up just enough time on the bike to cancel out my mediocre swim, so at least 5:15. When it became clear that it would be under 5 hours, I was more than relieved. With one mile left in the bike course, I choked down a gel knowing I would sit in the change tent a few minutes in transition and things would digest better. The bike split came in at 4:56:00, much faster than anticipated, and my position had climbed to 305th overall, 12th in my age group.
Run
Transition was smooth, slow, and meticulous. The couple minutes here were a small cost for sunscreen and vaseline in the hours to come. Patience would be key for the marathon to come. Once I hit the road, it was hard not to fly through the opening miles, since it was Ali'i Drive and the crowds were enormous. Keeping an eye on my run pace and heart rate, I just tried to let these first miles happen without trying to work too hard. The plan was basically to run the first 20 miles as relaxed as humanly possible, then through it all into the final 6.2 miles with what was left. Leg turnover was pretty quick, but my stride shortened very early on in the run, and the pace fell from about 7:30 per mile to 8:00 per mile. Not a problem, I just kept the turnover high and the heart rate steady. The coolest part of the run course was running up Palani hill and turning onto the Queen K highway, where I was lucky enough to see the leading professional male athlete, Frederick Van Lierde, putting in his last couple of miles to take the title. But no time to get too distracted by helicopters and media vehicles, I had 15 miles of running to go! The Queen K is famous for the heat, especially in the natural energy lab, which is home to solar power panels specifically because it is one of the hottest places on the island. The low winds made for a hot day with particularly high humidity, but we were blessed with some serious cloud cover as well. It wasn't comfortable, don't get me wrong, but I was prepared for the worst, only to be hit with the bad. Through the energy lab and back out onto the Queen K, my pace hovered between 8:00 and 8:20 per mile. Not fast, but as long as there was a running stride, no sweat. Mile 20 came around, and this pace was about as quick as I could get from myself. Then I was caught by somebody who appeared to be in my age group. If there is anytime to put your head down and race, its the closing miles of the race. My pace leaned on the quicker side, but was still pretty slow and steady. We ended up running from about mile 21 to mile 25 side by side, back and forth, neither of us shaking each other. At the final aid station, he made a grab for a drink, and I surged with all my might to put space between us. I had planned to enjoy the final mile along Ali'i drive, savoring every moment. Instead, I was running for my life. I saw my family, but couldn't get much of a smile out with the monkey on my back and the body being so maxed out. Not until I actually crossed the world's greatest finish line was there any opportunity to celebrate, and did I celebrate! Fist pumps, arms in the air, everything! I had finished the Ironman World Championship! The run split came in at 3:34:35, far and away my best marathon finish. Total time was 9:40:51, 15th out of 48 in my age group. Not bad!
After nearly crying like a little girl (ok, I cried my eyes out), it was time for post-race essentials with Annie and my parents, who were stoked that they didn't have to spectate for more than 10 hours this time. We went to the restaurant across the street, and wouldn't you know it, we got the best seats in the house, second floor at the end of the patio overlooking the finish line. Perfect! A few glasses of Kona Brew Longboard Ale, some pork and pineapple tacos, and the biggest race in triathlon behind me, it was time to stumble on back to the condo for some much needed sleep.
After the race, Annie and I hopped on a plane to Maui (after all, we had already come this far) for a little R&R and some Mai Tais. Racing in Kona was a dream come true, and to race so well was just the icing on the cake. Annie has been patient with me waiting for my return from 6+ hour training rides all summer long, and it would have been much more difficult to make it through this journey without her. Thank you, my pineapple princess (inside joke, sorry everybody else). I wouldn't be half as strong if it weren't for both of my parents. You guys raised me to believe in myself, and self confidence is probably the most important part to endurance racing. Thank you for all your love and support for my ambitions through triathlon.
Plot Twist
So as you may or may not know, last November I registered for Ironman Florida, figuring if I didn't punch my ticket to Kona this Summer, it would be my last chance to compete before aging up. I didn't want to look beyond Kona once I qualified at Lake Placid, so there has been little to no discussion about Ironman Florida. It has been a couple of weeks, and it was a tough decision, but I'm going to race again this Saturday. I thought that after my first trip to Kona I would "check the box" and be done. Boy was I wrong... as long as I have some decent fitness coming off of the race in Hawaii, the fire is still burning, and I want to compete there again. The legs are back up to speed, energy levels are returning to normal, and the desire is still there. I'm not sure the fitness is at the same peak it was leading up to Kona, but I'll use every ounce of what's left this weekend. Beat me if you can, but you'll have to enter a world of hurt to do it. More news to come after the race. Thanks for reading! Operation K-13, mission accomplished.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Late Summer Racing- Lake George, Las Vegas, Duxbury, and Hunter Mountain
Four weekends, four races, the last month of Summer has been insane! I'll try to keep it brief, but there is a lot to talk about.
Lake George Triathlon
This Olympic distance race took place on Labor Day weekend. It was particularly fun because it was my first chance to race against my training partner, James, since the Saratoga Duathlon back in May. James is one of the strongest cyclists I know, and to make the race more interesting, we put a wager on who would have the faster bike split of the two of us, loser buys lunch. When official results were posted, my bike split was 14 seconds faster than his, and if you're reading this, James, you still owe me lunch! This was my first Olympic distance race in over a year, and the big miles from Ironman training carried over well for this race, allowing me to post my fastest time at the distance, sneaking in at 2:05:59, 4th place overall.
Ironman 70.3 World Championship Las Vegas
Not sure how it happened, but I managed to make it rain even in the desert! Of the 5 days Annie and I spent in Nevada, it rained on 4 of them. Race day in particular had uncharacteristically wet and cloudy conditions, and before the sun was up, a little cold even! Racing as a big fish in a small pond is fun, but when all the big fish come together into the same pond, it can be a humbling experience. The mountainous bike course and hilly run made for a slow and challenging course, and all I could clock was a 4:43:39, a race time highlighted by a 1:35:43 run split, my fastest since Mooseman last June, during which nobody I passed on the bike came back and passed me, a first! Talk about humbling, this finish time was only quick enough to swing 15th place out of 63 in the male 18-24 age group. After the race, Annie and I enjoyed a little bit of Vegas the way normal people do, with the world famous show, "Le Reve," and a little bit of gambling and booze. Only live once, right?
Duxbury Beach Triathlon
Having just raced in Vegas, my body needed a little bit of rest, but with Kona not far away, I couldn't afford to lose significant fitness. On somewhatof a whim, I signed up for the Duxbury Beach Triathlon, a small sprint race out between the Cape and Boston. With all the traveling and a tough race just 6 days earlier, I felt stiff from start to finish, and never really hit the rhythm I usually find in my swim stroke and on the bike. Unable to break away from the competition on the bike course or make up ground on the run, all I could do was hold onto my position as best as possible, finishing in 1:03:09, a bit far off the front for such a small race, in 6th place overall.
HITS Hunter Mountain
Finally, this past weekend, I raced in the HITS Hunter Mountain aquabike full distance race. In other words, an Iron distance with no running. The other time I raced this format was at the HITS North Country, up on Lake George. The purpose of that race was to practice my pacing plan for Ironman Lake Placid. At this race though, I wanted to push the pace and see just how fast I could cover a 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike course. The swim was 4 loops in a small lake, which meant lots of opportunities to practice entries and exits. Half and full distance athletes started together, but obviously half distance athletes only did 2 loops. When the horn sounded, I quickly found myself well in front of my all the other full distance racers, with only 2 half distance racers leading me. After my four laps, I found myself out of the water and running into transition right around 57 minutes in, about the same split I swam in Lake Placid. Onto the bike course, it was a brutally windy day. Long story short, I was flying until about 80 miles in, and then in the back stretch really started to fade, and finished the bike course in about 5:18. The practice of bike handling in crosswinds was good, since Kona is notorious for heavy trade winds, but it became quite obvious that a strong marathon would depend on a much gentler cycling pace.
This has been the most physically demanding sport season of my life. Many of the friends and family I've discussed the season with have tossed around words like "burnout" and "over training," and as the racing season comes to an end and the biggest miles are in the books, its easy to see why. But one of the best things about data collection is that you get to look at performance objectively. How many times do you wake up and feel too sore, or too tired, or just plain not motivated to train? I think we back off on hard training too often in exchange for "much needed" rest. Don't get me wrong, you need to get your sleep and nourishment, and maybe a day off or a lighter training day can be justified sometimes, but why don't we listen to bodies objectively, rather than just not training because we feel tired? If you get a chance, read Iron War by Scott Fitzgerald. This book documents the greatest Ironman race in history, the 1989 World Championships, in which Dave Scott and Mark Allen raced over 8 hours within meters of each other, while the rest of the field lingered half an hour back off their pace. The book discusses the difference between Allen and Scott and the rest of the world class competitors, but the difference isn't their VO2max, threshold power, hematocrit, or anything else traditional physiology would say predicts endurance performance. Their strength lays in their heads. After reading the book, I have a much deeper appreciation for the power of the mind over what the body does. Don't get me wrong, you have to be fit to get to the level of Dave Scott and Mark Allen, but what allowed them to stomp on guys just as fit as they were was how they trained mentally.
My body is exhausted, but my mind knows I can handle more. This has helped me push through the toughest times in this season's training. Loud dubstep music doesn't hurt either. Kona is two weeks from tomorrow, which means just a little more hard work at high volume before tapering and traveling. I can't wait to compete against the best Ironman athletes in what is argued to be the toughest single day endurance event. Even though I have a few time related goals in mind, my most important goal is to prove to everybody, but especially myself, that I belong among them. See you in Hawaii.
Lake George Triathlon
This Olympic distance race took place on Labor Day weekend. It was particularly fun because it was my first chance to race against my training partner, James, since the Saratoga Duathlon back in May. James is one of the strongest cyclists I know, and to make the race more interesting, we put a wager on who would have the faster bike split of the two of us, loser buys lunch. When official results were posted, my bike split was 14 seconds faster than his, and if you're reading this, James, you still owe me lunch! This was my first Olympic distance race in over a year, and the big miles from Ironman training carried over well for this race, allowing me to post my fastest time at the distance, sneaking in at 2:05:59, 4th place overall.
Ironman 70.3 World Championship Las Vegas
Not sure how it happened, but I managed to make it rain even in the desert! Of the 5 days Annie and I spent in Nevada, it rained on 4 of them. Race day in particular had uncharacteristically wet and cloudy conditions, and before the sun was up, a little cold even! Racing as a big fish in a small pond is fun, but when all the big fish come together into the same pond, it can be a humbling experience. The mountainous bike course and hilly run made for a slow and challenging course, and all I could clock was a 4:43:39, a race time highlighted by a 1:35:43 run split, my fastest since Mooseman last June, during which nobody I passed on the bike came back and passed me, a first! Talk about humbling, this finish time was only quick enough to swing 15th place out of 63 in the male 18-24 age group. After the race, Annie and I enjoyed a little bit of Vegas the way normal people do, with the world famous show, "Le Reve," and a little bit of gambling and booze. Only live once, right?
Duxbury Beach Triathlon
Having just raced in Vegas, my body needed a little bit of rest, but with Kona not far away, I couldn't afford to lose significant fitness. On somewhatof a whim, I signed up for the Duxbury Beach Triathlon, a small sprint race out between the Cape and Boston. With all the traveling and a tough race just 6 days earlier, I felt stiff from start to finish, and never really hit the rhythm I usually find in my swim stroke and on the bike. Unable to break away from the competition on the bike course or make up ground on the run, all I could do was hold onto my position as best as possible, finishing in 1:03:09, a bit far off the front for such a small race, in 6th place overall.
HITS Hunter Mountain
Finally, this past weekend, I raced in the HITS Hunter Mountain aquabike full distance race. In other words, an Iron distance with no running. The other time I raced this format was at the HITS North Country, up on Lake George. The purpose of that race was to practice my pacing plan for Ironman Lake Placid. At this race though, I wanted to push the pace and see just how fast I could cover a 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike course. The swim was 4 loops in a small lake, which meant lots of opportunities to practice entries and exits. Half and full distance athletes started together, but obviously half distance athletes only did 2 loops. When the horn sounded, I quickly found myself well in front of my all the other full distance racers, with only 2 half distance racers leading me. After my four laps, I found myself out of the water and running into transition right around 57 minutes in, about the same split I swam in Lake Placid. Onto the bike course, it was a brutally windy day. Long story short, I was flying until about 80 miles in, and then in the back stretch really started to fade, and finished the bike course in about 5:18. The practice of bike handling in crosswinds was good, since Kona is notorious for heavy trade winds, but it became quite obvious that a strong marathon would depend on a much gentler cycling pace.
This has been the most physically demanding sport season of my life. Many of the friends and family I've discussed the season with have tossed around words like "burnout" and "over training," and as the racing season comes to an end and the biggest miles are in the books, its easy to see why. But one of the best things about data collection is that you get to look at performance objectively. How many times do you wake up and feel too sore, or too tired, or just plain not motivated to train? I think we back off on hard training too often in exchange for "much needed" rest. Don't get me wrong, you need to get your sleep and nourishment, and maybe a day off or a lighter training day can be justified sometimes, but why don't we listen to bodies objectively, rather than just not training because we feel tired? If you get a chance, read Iron War by Scott Fitzgerald. This book documents the greatest Ironman race in history, the 1989 World Championships, in which Dave Scott and Mark Allen raced over 8 hours within meters of each other, while the rest of the field lingered half an hour back off their pace. The book discusses the difference between Allen and Scott and the rest of the world class competitors, but the difference isn't their VO2max, threshold power, hematocrit, or anything else traditional physiology would say predicts endurance performance. Their strength lays in their heads. After reading the book, I have a much deeper appreciation for the power of the mind over what the body does. Don't get me wrong, you have to be fit to get to the level of Dave Scott and Mark Allen, but what allowed them to stomp on guys just as fit as they were was how they trained mentally.
My body is exhausted, but my mind knows I can handle more. This has helped me push through the toughest times in this season's training. Loud dubstep music doesn't hurt either. Kona is two weeks from tomorrow, which means just a little more hard work at high volume before tapering and traveling. I can't wait to compete against the best Ironman athletes in what is argued to be the toughest single day endurance event. Even though I have a few time related goals in mind, my most important goal is to prove to everybody, but especially myself, that I belong among them. See you in Hawaii.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Ironman Lake Placid- Next Stop, Hawaii!
The fifteenth running of the iconic Ironman Lake Placid took place this past weekend, and the mountains have been good to me!
The day started at 2:30 am. It was supposed to start at a "reasonable" 4:00 am, but after a solid four hours of sleeping, I think my body knew that it was about to enter a world of hurt and refused to get any more shuteye. After over an hour in bed staring at the clock and visualizing the race to come, I got dressed and had my breakfast and coffee. By 4:30, Annie, my mom, and I were on our way to the Olympic Oval.
Air in the tires and powerbars packed, I donned my wetsuit and headed down to the beautiful Mirror Lake. At 6:00 am, as soon as the water was open for warmup, I jumped in and found my stroke. Everything felt pretty good and this was shaping up to be a promising morning. The march out of the water and over to the starting line, as well as the anxious wait for the start, was absolutely surreal. I could not believe that after all the snowy runs and trainer rides, the biggest race of my Summer had finally arrived.
The gun went, and it was on. The new swim start made things smoother than a mass start, but the swim is still a full contact sport. A few kicks and punches later, and everybody was lined up and it was time to start passing the 200 meter sprinters who took it out too fast. By the halfway point of the first loop, I was swimming all alone, just the way I like it. In no time at all, I had caught up to the back of the women's pro field. The rest of that loop, and the first half of the second loop, were smooth and uneventful. Then I hit a wall of athletes who were still on the first loop, and had to weave through some very slow traffic. The traffic made the second lap noticeably slower than the first, but I managed to swing a quick 57:22.
It had been raining lightly all morning, and the carpet laid down between the lake and the oval had gotten wet. "Better not run too fast, or I'm going to trip," I told myself, but no good. As I took a sharp right turn, my foot gave out from right underneath and I was on the ground. "OOOOOH!" the spectators seemed to cry as one, and after half a second on the ground, I was up and on my way to my bike. Funny how little you care about a bleeding leg when adrenaline is running through your veins! Other than the trip, transition was smooth and uneventful, and before I knew it, my bike and I were reunited and ready for the fun 112 miles.
The first 20 miles out of town, including the humongous descent into Keene Valley, were wet and rainy. Fortunately, my swim put me far enough ahead of the bulk of the field that I had the road to myself, allowing me to use wide lines and the smoothest parts of the road. After the turn at the bottom of the hill, the "flat" part of the bike course began. During this fast stretch I just settled into my projected power, downed some fluids and took in solid calories. To make sure there was always enough fluid on board, I grabbed a fresh bottle of sports drink at every aid station along the way, even if I had two unfinished bottles. This turned out to be a smart move, when at one of the early aid stations I missed not one, but two bottle hand offs, but still had enough liquid to get me to the next station. After 30 miles of steady smooth cycling, it was time to make our way up into Wilmington, home of Whiteface Mountain. During this early climb, I caught the only other guy in my age group who swam faster than me. To discourage him from chasing me, I made sure to pass him like I meant it and never look back. This climb was the perfect place to do it! Once it flattened out I got back down into my aerobars and took a quick peek behind me. Nobody. Now I was ready to hit my power all the way to the end. For the most part, this was a smooth and uneventful ride. Other than wheelie I did for the spectators (their idea, not mine!) not much happened and I held a decent wattage all day. The toughest part mentally was when the wind picked up coming back from Wilmington to Lake Placid on the second loop, but having trained on the course I knew to expect it in the afternoon. I came off the bike with a 5:22:04 split, and leading my age group. (Side note, I am convinced that smiling teeth are more aero than closed lips, see photo below).
Second transition was quick and easy, and my legs didn't even feel like they were filled with cement! Helmet off and shoes on, ready to run.
I had been warned over and over again that its easy to cook yourself on the first loop of the bike course and ruin the rest of your day. Avoided that fine. I also heard that you can run out way too fast in the opening miles of the marathon since they're downhill and everybody is cheering for you. Checked that one off just fine as well. I think where I screwed myself over just a bit was on the return into town, where you have a couple of tough hills and tons of cheering about the downtown scene. From miles 11-13, my effort was just a little bit too high, and as I began to leave town for my second loop of the run, it started to show. My pace went from a steady 7:30-7:40 mile to 7:50-8:00 mile. Not a problem, still plenty fast enough to get me home with a decent run split. Then around mile 19 it happened. I hit the proverbial wall. It felt like somebody swung a mallet into my face, and I simply could not run. My balance was gone, I was lightheaded, and there was just no way to resume a running gait. Only one thing to do- grandma walk. For the next couple miles I made attempts at running again, only to be reminded that I still had no balance. Walking was all I had, so I worked with it. "Forward progression," I told myself. Three agonizing miles later, after a few aid stations of coke and sports drink, I was able to shuffle back into a 8:00-8:30 mile pace, which felt impossible at first. Finally I got to mile 24, and with everybody cheering including a few friends from back home, I was flying up the last hills again. Ok, maybe it wasn't exactly "flying," but compared to the preceding miles, these last two felt easy. As the crowd cheered me back onto the oval, I was passed by Adam Quinn, who hunted me down to the final tenth of a mile, and I crossed the line second in my age group. It was heartbreaking to be beaten so close to the finish, but such a huge accomplishment to finish as well as I did that it was just fine by me. My 3:53:00 marathon split brought me in for a 10:18:58 finish.
The next morning at the awards breakfast, it was confirmed that my age group would have two slots for Kona qualification. I was in! Claiming my spot and registering for Kona was one of the proudest moments of my athletic life. The rest of the day my phone wouldn't stop buzzing with texts and facebook messages of congratulations from friends and family who had heard, and some who had even watched the finish on the live feed. I can't say enough about how thankful I am for everybody's support, but there I want to especially thank two people for playing a tremendous role this weekend. Mom and Annie, the two of you were helping me every time I asked you to hold this or that, agreed to whatever dinner plans I deemed necessary to fuel right, and stood outside cheering and photographing in the rain for over ten hours. You both even managed to get out of bed at the ungodly 4 am! Lastly, I want to thank God. Yes, God, the guy who I don't mention too much in my posts because I don't formally worship. The Adirondack Mountains are a sanctuary, and I truly believe that God watches over the world from this place. I'm not thanking God for giving me a trip to Kona, I fought for that myself. I guess I'm thanking God for the opportunity to wake up and train everyday, and for the network of love and support surrounding me.
Speaking of which, it's time to start training again. Some friends and I are doing a relay race this Saturday, and I better be in shape to swim for them! Next race on the calendar is the Lake George Triathlon, an Olympic distance dash, and I'll be building all month for the 70.3 World Championship in Vegas this September. And not that anybody's counting or anything, but there are only 73 days until I race on the Big Island!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
The Ups and Downs of June
June has been a busy month, and I haven't been very diligent about blogging my training and racing, so this entry will serve as a synopsis of the entire month, light on the details.
June 9, 70.3 Eagleman
Sometimes races go great start to finish. Sometimes they are terrible all day. More often races have highs and lows, and you really can't say where you will finish until you get to the line. That was the case in Eagleman. On race day the famous winds of Maryland were non-existent and the heat and humidity modest. Shortly after the pros took off on the fast and flat course, my age group jumped in the water to await the start of what should have been a very fast race. The swim in the Choptank River lived up to it's name. Despite being a wetsuit legal swim in salt water, the choppy swells made for my slowest 1.2 mile swim of the year, clocking a 31:41, putting me in a sloppy 7th place in my age group into transition. Onto the bike, there was nothing to do but lock into the aerobars and find my groove. This was the flattest course I have ever ridden, and it had very few turns, making this a bike course that favors a well disciplined athlete. Being focused on not going too hard and tucking away to stay aerodynamic is mind-numbing, but I found it rewarding as I slowly picked off the six age groupers ahead of over the first 40 miles of the 56 mile course, and my 2:17:55 bike split brought me back into transition leading my age group. I left transition running side by side with another athlete in my age group, and in the first mile of the half marathon he put about a 30 second gap between us. Knowing my best chance of winning would be hoping he blows up later on the run, I stepped off the gas and settled into a comfortable stride, but the joke was on me. About six miles into the out and back my pace started to slip, and in the last 3 miles I was caught by three more age groupers en route to a 1:40:26 run split, clocking a total time of 4:33:39 and landing a fifth place finish in my age group, and once again my chance at a Kona qualification slipped through my fingers.
June 21-24, Long Weekend Training Trip in Lake Placid
With just one chance left to qualify for the 2013 Ironman World Championship, I quickly recovered from Eagleman and headed for the hills to focus my training on Ironman Lake Placid. I've said it once and I'll say it again- I want to win the amateur division at Lake Placid. To know the course like the back of my hand, I made the trek deep into the High Peaks for 4 days, with nothing to think of but training. Over the course of those 4 days, I accumulated 9800 yards of swimming in Mirror Lake, 185 miles of cycling on the bike course (plus a 3000+ foot climb up Whiteface Mountain), and 33 miles of running. Needless to say, I was wiped. To top the trip off, I raced in a Monday night sprint triathlon in Lake Placid, and snagged a second place finish. With all the arduous miles logged, its fun to throw a little speed into the equation and make the legs and lungs scream for an hour.
June 29, North Country Triathlon Aquabike
I wanted to practice my Ironman swim and bike pacing strategy in as close to a real race situation as possible. This race on Lake George gave me that and then some. The 2.4 mile swim was long, and poor sighting on my end had me swimming 2.66 miles according to my GPS watch. Fortunately in Lake Placid you can follow the cord, making Mirror Lake basically a giant pool and impossible to swim off course. My swim split was still 1:00:45, fast enough to be the first out of the water. After a quick transition I was onto the bike course. The Lake Placid bike course is tough, but this bike course was just plain brutal. The entire 112 mile bike course was either uphill (up-mountain?) or downhill. After a 5:35:29 tour of the Adirondack mountains, I came back down to the lake to win the aquabike division with a decisive 10 minute lead.
June ends tomorrow. July finishes with my biggest race so far. Ironman Lake Placid is a course I know and love. If you respect the mountains, they reward you with good finishes. Not necessarilly fast finishes, but good finishing positions when other break over the demanding hills and climbs. I'm looking forward to playing my knowledge of the course to my advantage. May the mountains be just.
June 9, 70.3 Eagleman
Sometimes races go great start to finish. Sometimes they are terrible all day. More often races have highs and lows, and you really can't say where you will finish until you get to the line. That was the case in Eagleman. On race day the famous winds of Maryland were non-existent and the heat and humidity modest. Shortly after the pros took off on the fast and flat course, my age group jumped in the water to await the start of what should have been a very fast race. The swim in the Choptank River lived up to it's name. Despite being a wetsuit legal swim in salt water, the choppy swells made for my slowest 1.2 mile swim of the year, clocking a 31:41, putting me in a sloppy 7th place in my age group into transition. Onto the bike, there was nothing to do but lock into the aerobars and find my groove. This was the flattest course I have ever ridden, and it had very few turns, making this a bike course that favors a well disciplined athlete. Being focused on not going too hard and tucking away to stay aerodynamic is mind-numbing, but I found it rewarding as I slowly picked off the six age groupers ahead of over the first 40 miles of the 56 mile course, and my 2:17:55 bike split brought me back into transition leading my age group. I left transition running side by side with another athlete in my age group, and in the first mile of the half marathon he put about a 30 second gap between us. Knowing my best chance of winning would be hoping he blows up later on the run, I stepped off the gas and settled into a comfortable stride, but the joke was on me. About six miles into the out and back my pace started to slip, and in the last 3 miles I was caught by three more age groupers en route to a 1:40:26 run split, clocking a total time of 4:33:39 and landing a fifth place finish in my age group, and once again my chance at a Kona qualification slipped through my fingers.
June 21-24, Long Weekend Training Trip in Lake Placid
With just one chance left to qualify for the 2013 Ironman World Championship, I quickly recovered from Eagleman and headed for the hills to focus my training on Ironman Lake Placid. I've said it once and I'll say it again- I want to win the amateur division at Lake Placid. To know the course like the back of my hand, I made the trek deep into the High Peaks for 4 days, with nothing to think of but training. Over the course of those 4 days, I accumulated 9800 yards of swimming in Mirror Lake, 185 miles of cycling on the bike course (plus a 3000+ foot climb up Whiteface Mountain), and 33 miles of running. Needless to say, I was wiped. To top the trip off, I raced in a Monday night sprint triathlon in Lake Placid, and snagged a second place finish. With all the arduous miles logged, its fun to throw a little speed into the equation and make the legs and lungs scream for an hour.
June 29, North Country Triathlon Aquabike
I wanted to practice my Ironman swim and bike pacing strategy in as close to a real race situation as possible. This race on Lake George gave me that and then some. The 2.4 mile swim was long, and poor sighting on my end had me swimming 2.66 miles according to my GPS watch. Fortunately in Lake Placid you can follow the cord, making Mirror Lake basically a giant pool and impossible to swim off course. My swim split was still 1:00:45, fast enough to be the first out of the water. After a quick transition I was onto the bike course. The Lake Placid bike course is tough, but this bike course was just plain brutal. The entire 112 mile bike course was either uphill (up-mountain?) or downhill. After a 5:35:29 tour of the Adirondack mountains, I came back down to the lake to win the aquabike division with a decisive 10 minute lead.
June ends tomorrow. July finishes with my biggest race so far. Ironman Lake Placid is a course I know and love. If you respect the mountains, they reward you with good finishes. Not necessarilly fast finishes, but good finishing positions when other break over the demanding hills and climbs. I'm looking forward to playing my knowledge of the course to my advantage. May the mountains be just.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Saratoga Duathlon, Big Win at Home!
If the first races of the season in Ocala and St. Croix were long and hot, the Saratoga Duathlon this Sunday was blistering fast and bitterly cold. For whatever reason, despite it being Memorial Day weekend, temperatures plummeted from the 70s and 80s to a high of 45 for the morning of the race. When the alarm went off at 5, it was time to bundle up and get some hot coffee in my belly. At the race venue, I had plenty of time to get a solid warm up ride and a quick run on the course. What I love about this race is that nearly every local within the multisport community shows up to test their early season fitness. Racing strangers is fun, but racing with friends is an absolute blast. At the starting line I saw a few familiar faces from the year before, including Kevin, a very fast recent high school grad bound for West Point this coming school year. At last year's race Kevin came in second, beating my fifth place finish by roughly a minute. If you were to bet on the race outcome, the smart choice would have been Kevin.
At 8 am, the gun went and the race started with the first 5k run. Like any 5k run, it seemed like everybody forgot how long 3.1 miles actually is, and if I had to guess, I would say there were 30 runners in front of me for the first half mile. Of those runners in front of me included Kevin and star runner Brian, who is always a serious contender in local 5 and 10k races. Biding my time a ways back from the leaders, I patiently let the vast majority of the runners drop like flies around the second miles, keeping the race leaders in sight. Brian finished the first run in the lead, with Kevin just seconds behind him. Roughly 20 seconds back from the leaders, I clocked a quick but controlled 17:50 for the first 5k, fast enough to give me the fourth fastest split.
Transition was uneventful. Shoes off, bike shoes on, helmet on, grab the bike, go. Now the fun part, cycling. I caught two of the three guys who ran ahead of me about 3 kilometers into the 30k bike course, including Brian, but Kevin had already broken away from these guys, so the chase was on. It wasn't long before he was in sight, with about 15 seconds on me. I spent the first loop of the 3 loop bike course reeling him in, and by the second loop I was right on him. I settled my pace just enough to go back in forth sharing the lead with him on the second loop, but knowing he runs faster than I do, it would have been foolish to try and come in with Kevin. When we started the third loop, I laid down some extra power and made a break at the first hill to put some distance between us. A few miles later at a turn I got to look back, and the move had worked. I came back into transition with about 50 seconds on Kevin, averaging 23.7 mph.
Unsure how far behind me Kevin was, I tried to get out of transition before he was in, successfully. On the second 5k run, there was an out and back turnaround, where I got to estimate my lead. Kevin came running at me strong, and it looked like I had about 40 seconds on him, meaning the race was far from in the bag. Running on fear, I moved as quick as I could, realizing that Kevin was obviously the only threat to my lead. The second time I saw Kevin, around 2 miles in, he had cut my lead down to only about 30 seconds. This was going to be close! Gritting my teeth and digging for every ounce of energy, I pushed and pushed and pushed some more, until I got to a turn with about 200 meters to the finish line. Knowing Kevin could have been right on my shoulder, I kicked it in and tasted victory! Just 23 seconds later, Kevin came in for second. That young man has some serious potential in the triathlon and duathlon world, and I cannot wait to see him grow and mature as an athlete at West Point in the years to come. My training partner James finished in 4th, dropping some serious time from his run splits. My friend Shaun won the relay race with his cycling partner, Jaime.
The weather has been terrible for every single race so far this year, and the duathlon was no exception. At first I though bad weather sucked, but I'm liking it more and more as the season progresses. Rain, cold, heat, wind, it doesn't matter. Bad weather doesn't ruin races, but rather gives you the opportunity to be positive when most people are going to be negative, a realization that can always be turned to your advantage. The next stop is Cambridge, MD for Eagleman. With any luck the weather will have cool temperatures and low wind, but if it doesn't, I'll still be ready to throw my best effort at the course. Anything that slows me down is going to slow down everybody else. The duathlon was a big win for me, but that doesn't guarantee success for the rest of the season. It's time to get back to work and be ready to hammer, no matter what the weather brings.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
70.3 St. Croix, Hard to be sour in such a sweet place
This past weekend I made my first attempt at picking up a Kona Qualification on the island of St. Croix, USVI. The trip was a blast! My training partner, James, Annie, and my mom all made the journey to the Caribbean with me, arriving late on Thursday night. On Friday, James and I got a taste of the salt water at the practice swim in Christianstead Harbor, returning to the hotel to kick it by the beach and kayak a little bit with the rest of the afternoon. On Saturday we got a look at part of the bike course, which we had some very mixed feelings about. On the one hand, it might have been the most beautiful cycling I have ever seen, circling the island and giving us mind blowing cliffside views of the coast. On the other hand, the roads were rough as hell and the topography made for some challenging, slow riding. After our ride we returned to the hotel, where we pretty much just kicked back to rest up for the coming day.
Sunday came quick. Alarms went off at 4 am, and we were race-site bound at 4:30. Stoked to compete, James and I racked our bikes, suited up, and made our way across the harbor to the beach where our swim started. After watching the professional men and women take off, our wave was the first amateur group to line up. We wished each other luck, got ourselves in the zone, and anxiously awaited the horn. When it finally went off, we rushed to the water and dove in. With the first turn buoy only about 200 meters into the course, it was a crowded pack with lots of rustling, so I tried to just keep to the outside of the main pack, it could be a long day if my face got kicked and my goggles got filled with salt water. When things finally smoothed out, I found my stroke pretty quickly, got into a groove, and worked my way up through the crowd who went out way too hard. For the last 500 meters or so, I found myself in between 2 other swimmers, just on their hips, a perfect place to get a little bit of draft on both sides! I exited the water in 30:47, my fastest non-wetsuit 1.2 mile swim. It was hands down the easiest part of the arduous journey that lay ahead of me...
After stripping my swimskin, cap, and goggles off and donning my cycling shoes and helmet, I rushed out of T1 and onto the 56 mile bike course. The night before the race we had gotten a large storm that brought some serious gravel and sand onto the roads. Sixty percent of athletes picked up a flat tire on the course, including about half the professional field. The race of attrition was on. My plan was centered around two words- patient and conservative. This meant not chasing after everybody who passed me early on the bike and taking the sharp, fast downhill corners easy to avoid a crash and try not to flat. It seemed to really pay off when I got to the infamous climb, appropriately named "the beast." The beast demands serious power to get through, averaging a 14% grade and maxing out at 21%. Naturally, a climb like this turns into a king of the mountain contest for nearly every guy on the course, but I humbly decided to put down just enough power to keep my bike moving in a forward direction. Shortly after the climb, I caught up with just about every flashy cyclist who decided to cook themselves up the beast. My conservative and patient approach didn't give me the sexiest bike split of the day, clocking an official time of 2:39:23, but it left me feeling like I had left enough in the tank to put together a solid finish on the run.
I was wrong. If the bike course wasn't tough enough, the 13.1 mile run course in 86 degrees and 90% humidity was downright brutal. Despite hitting my stride well for the first 3 miles, heat cramps quickly found their way to my legs, breaking the beautiful stride I had worked so hard to perfect all season. Knowing that anything could be happening in front of me or behind me, I had no choice but to trot my way as best as possible to the finish line. It was undoubtedly the most challenging run of my life, and I dragged my way home on a painful 1:50:44 run split to clock a finish time of 5:00:54. In a race where about 100 other athletes dropped out, this put me in 41st overall, and 2nd in my age group.
Bet you're wondering what happened to my training partner, James. He took a jellyfish to the face during the swim, could barely see straight, but still managed to finish the bike course before calling it quits and hitting the medical tent for an IV and some treatment for jellyfish stings. And here I thought the only safe place on the entire course was the swim! Not long after crossing the finish line, I joined him in the medical tent for my cramping. It was the worst cramping I have ever experienced in all of my athletic career, probably because I had 4-5 muscles cramping at the same time, all trying to pull my joints in opposite directions. After being force fed bananas and electrolyte drinks proved useless, I reluctantly let the medics give me an IV. Eventually they let me walk/crawl away to pack up my stuff and reunite with my mom and Annie.
At the awards ceremony, I learned that the guy who beat me for the age group took the Kona slot, unsurprisingly. I also learned that Richie Cunningham, the professional male who won that day, had been in the top 5, but never won in St. Croix, in his first 9 attempts. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. This was just my first attempt at grabbing a Kona spot, and while an early season qualification would have been ideal, there are still opportunities yet to come. The race was certainly not fruitless. I had a great time with the people who matter most to me and picked up a little more experience in the pain cave to draw upon later this season. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the pool for a swim set. There are some big training weeks ahead of me, and of course the next race, Eagleman 70.3, and I don't plan on missing a beat.
Sunday came quick. Alarms went off at 4 am, and we were race-site bound at 4:30. Stoked to compete, James and I racked our bikes, suited up, and made our way across the harbor to the beach where our swim started. After watching the professional men and women take off, our wave was the first amateur group to line up. We wished each other luck, got ourselves in the zone, and anxiously awaited the horn. When it finally went off, we rushed to the water and dove in. With the first turn buoy only about 200 meters into the course, it was a crowded pack with lots of rustling, so I tried to just keep to the outside of the main pack, it could be a long day if my face got kicked and my goggles got filled with salt water. When things finally smoothed out, I found my stroke pretty quickly, got into a groove, and worked my way up through the crowd who went out way too hard. For the last 500 meters or so, I found myself in between 2 other swimmers, just on their hips, a perfect place to get a little bit of draft on both sides! I exited the water in 30:47, my fastest non-wetsuit 1.2 mile swim. It was hands down the easiest part of the arduous journey that lay ahead of me...
After stripping my swimskin, cap, and goggles off and donning my cycling shoes and helmet, I rushed out of T1 and onto the 56 mile bike course. The night before the race we had gotten a large storm that brought some serious gravel and sand onto the roads. Sixty percent of athletes picked up a flat tire on the course, including about half the professional field. The race of attrition was on. My plan was centered around two words- patient and conservative. This meant not chasing after everybody who passed me early on the bike and taking the sharp, fast downhill corners easy to avoid a crash and try not to flat. It seemed to really pay off when I got to the infamous climb, appropriately named "the beast." The beast demands serious power to get through, averaging a 14% grade and maxing out at 21%. Naturally, a climb like this turns into a king of the mountain contest for nearly every guy on the course, but I humbly decided to put down just enough power to keep my bike moving in a forward direction. Shortly after the climb, I caught up with just about every flashy cyclist who decided to cook themselves up the beast. My conservative and patient approach didn't give me the sexiest bike split of the day, clocking an official time of 2:39:23, but it left me feeling like I had left enough in the tank to put together a solid finish on the run.
I was wrong. If the bike course wasn't tough enough, the 13.1 mile run course in 86 degrees and 90% humidity was downright brutal. Despite hitting my stride well for the first 3 miles, heat cramps quickly found their way to my legs, breaking the beautiful stride I had worked so hard to perfect all season. Knowing that anything could be happening in front of me or behind me, I had no choice but to trot my way as best as possible to the finish line. It was undoubtedly the most challenging run of my life, and I dragged my way home on a painful 1:50:44 run split to clock a finish time of 5:00:54. In a race where about 100 other athletes dropped out, this put me in 41st overall, and 2nd in my age group.
Bet you're wondering what happened to my training partner, James. He took a jellyfish to the face during the swim, could barely see straight, but still managed to finish the bike course before calling it quits and hitting the medical tent for an IV and some treatment for jellyfish stings. And here I thought the only safe place on the entire course was the swim! Not long after crossing the finish line, I joined him in the medical tent for my cramping. It was the worst cramping I have ever experienced in all of my athletic career, probably because I had 4-5 muscles cramping at the same time, all trying to pull my joints in opposite directions. After being force fed bananas and electrolyte drinks proved useless, I reluctantly let the medics give me an IV. Eventually they let me walk/crawl away to pack up my stuff and reunite with my mom and Annie.
At the awards ceremony, I learned that the guy who beat me for the age group took the Kona slot, unsurprisingly. I also learned that Richie Cunningham, the professional male who won that day, had been in the top 5, but never won in St. Croix, in his first 9 attempts. If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. This was just my first attempt at grabbing a Kona spot, and while an early season qualification would have been ideal, there are still opportunities yet to come. The race was certainly not fruitless. I had a great time with the people who matter most to me and picked up a little more experience in the pain cave to draw upon later this season. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to the pool for a swim set. There are some big training weeks ahead of me, and of course the next race, Eagleman 70.3, and I don't plan on missing a beat.
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