Readers beware – this is rather long.This year's Sentinel Triathlon featured almost perfect conditions.The weather forecasters, who I suspect base their weather predictionsmore on bad dreams brought on by spicy food the night before, called for rain and thunderstorms, but we woke to clear skies and calmseas. The alarm went off at the butt crack of dawn once again thisyear (hopefully this will conclude 5:30AM wake-ups for this year atleast) and we fumbled our way into our racing uniforms, hit theJohnny once or twice (or three times in my case), then staggered outthe door to load up the bikes.
Janine and I stayed at my brother'splace in Santa Cruz along with our friend Bart and another friend Chris. We successfully got out of the house without waking my brother's three dogs, my brother or his girlfriend, or if we did,they were too polite to say anything. I think I did wake his renter who lives in an apartment above his garage. I failed to realize that the garage door opener shook the entire garage like a 5.0 earthquake. I'm sure she was tossed fairly unceremoniously onto the floor when I hit the "open" button. I can only hope she is a very heavy sleeper.Our little convoy of triathletes made our way down to the Coast Hotel next to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk where the race would take place. Since Bart and Chris were so eager to get to the race so they could get "fresh" porta-potties, we did not need to worry about crowds in the transition area. There were a few people milling aboutin the dark, but for the most part, the majority of competitors chose to get an extra half hour or two of sleep and arrive at a more timely 7AM. Janine and I racked next to each other so we could more easily share the coveted can of olive flavored Pam Cooking Spray. For those of you not in the know, triathletes use Pam not only for cooking, but to lubricate our legs to make wetsuit removal easier and also to flavor our bodies for the various sea life we may encounter during the swim, like great whites and killer whales. These sea creatures appreciate that we use low cholesterol cooking sprays.
We squeezed into our wetsuits, and then wandered down to the start ofthe race. The swim starts up on the beach behind this huge ditch dug in the sand which is just in front of a huge mound of sand. The idea is to see how many triathletes do face plants in either the pit or mound, and then get stepped on by the masses behind. One race strategy is to hang back a bit at the start so that you can use the bodies of your fellow athletes as a bridge across the pit, and ladder steps up the mound.I had the dubious distinction of being the first to start the race, followed by a Clydesdale wave, then Janine's wave, and then Bart pulled up the rear with a 9AM start time. He had enough time between my 8:10AM start to grab a Starbucks, read the Sunday Times, and visit the porta-potties a few additional times. I made it through the pit and over the mound without embarrassing myself, then ran for the water where I promptly did a nice half gainer with a bellyflop entry into the frigid Pacific ocean. The swim is a clockwise 0.9 mile journey around the Santa Cruz pier. You can hear all the Sea Lions barking under the pier and the only thing I could think of is "hmmm, sharks like sea lions, sea lions are shiny black, I'm wearing a shiny black wetsuit". At that point, my internal dialogue changed to more of a chant, "stay in the middle of the pack, stay in the middle ofthe pack".
I came out of the water in good position, although I knew Chris was somewhere ahead of me. He is an incredible swimmer who was raised by a friendly family of dolphins when he was orphaned at a young age. It has served him well in triathlons, but proved awkward at parties when he dives head first into the smoked lox and shrimp platters. I ran up the street to the transition area across from the Coast Hotel, found my bike, and headed on out to the bike course. Janine was not too far behind me, but had some difficulty getting out of her wetsuit. She stopped to take her wetsuit off before running the ¼ mile to transition, but her wetsuit refused to be removed. As she was flailing about, she managed to take out about 6 of her competitors, so she has decided to employ this strategy in future races. At this time, Bart was still at Starbucks waiting to start the race.
Out on the bike course, I set my sights on chasing down Chris. I knew that I would have a good gauge of how far behind him I was whenI got close to the turnaround at mile 11. Unfortunately for me, Chris passed me around mile 8, going the other way, so he had atleast 12-13 minutes on me. I believe after having been raised by dolphins, Chris was adopted by a family of European pro cyclists and forced to ride 500 miles a week just to get to school and back. Janine set out on the bike and proceeded to chase down the few remaining women in her age group she did not manage to knock over in transition. At this time, Bart was still at Starbucks waiting to start the race. At the end of the bike segment, Sentinel offers competitors a little bike handling practice. Due to where the course has to turn-aroundat mile 11, the race organizers added a short out-and-back to the end of the race. They have us go down this incredibly bumpy and windy narrow 1-lane road to some nature center, then turn around and retrace our route. The road was so bumpy, I saw competitors loosing everything from water bottles to tooth fillings to contact lenses. I managed to keep most of my bike and body intact and powered back intoTransition.
Chris had already taken off on the run. Janine was hunting down any woman with a 40 or above marked on her calf (our ages are marked on our left calf to provide entertainment and age-related joke material for the spectators). At this time, Bart was still at Starbucks waiting to start the race.
The Sentinel run is along West Cliff drive past the lighthouse and down to the end of the road, then we turnaround and head back to thefinish. I set a good pace, knocking back the first couple of miles without too much difficulty. My legs started to feel some fatigue atthe turnaround, but I was running with a guy from Team Kain that was in my AG. I did not know what place I was in, but I knew that if I beat that guy, I would be one step closer to the top. I paced off of him for about a mile, then made my move. When I say "made my move",it was not one of those spectacular moves you see in the Olympics were the competitor in the rear zooms around the person in front and drops them like a hot potato. I came around the guy and tried to put some distance between us. I was red-lining it, but the gap seemed to only grow by inches. Eventually his contact with me snapped and I pulled away. I did happen to see Chris on his way back to the finish around mile 2 (he was on mile 4). He was setting a blistering pace matched only by a group of Kenyan marathoners who happened to be doing a training run down West Cliff at the same time. Chris said he chatted with the Kenyans for awhile, but dropped them due to their slow training pace of 4:45 minutes per mile. I saw Janine heading out on the run when I hit mile 5 and gave her a big smile and thumbs up. I suspected she was not having her best day when the look and gesture she gave me in return was not something I would interpret as a reflection of our undying love. At this time, Bart was still at Starbucks waiting to start the race.
I finished the race in 2:14:12, about 3 minutes faster than lastyear. It put me in 16th place out of 106 competitors in my AG, 54th overall.Chris finished 2nd in our age group (35-39) with an astounding time of 2:00:20. Of course the French competitors accused him of doping,so the drug tests are still pending. Janine finished the race with a frown on her face thinking she did not have a very good day. But, itturns out her iron will, tenacious grit, and steely determination powered her to a 3rd place in her AG, up 4 places from last year.
At this time, we believe Bart is still waiting to start the race.
Wednesday, October 5, 2005
Thursday, September 1, 2005
2005 IM Canada
My two cents about IM Canada
Joanie, Greg, Janine, and I arrived on Wednesday prior to the race on Sunday. Ethan and Debbie flew up on Thursday. That gave all of us at least two full days to develop a full case of the pre-race jitters and fret over what seemed endless details. Greg and I went down to the lake on Thursday morning to scope out the course and test the shrinkage factor of the water. To our surprise, the water was the perfect temperature for wetsuit assisted swimming. I think it was about 68-69 degrees. Janine swam with us without her wetsuit, but was a bit on the cold side after about 20 minutes of swimming. Joanie took the smart approach and volunteered to watch our stuff and work on her tan while catching up on the latest gossip in People. I remember Greg remarking "this is an awfully big lake" and I responded, "yeah, and I we get to swim at least 2.4 miles of it (or more like 2.7 miles if you fail to navigate correctly).
We went to pick up our registration packets that afternoon along with a few hundred other nervous, jittery competitors. Who needs caffeine when you can have a nice dose of pre-race anxiety! Our packets included about 50 different "gear" bags. Ironman gives you a bag for practically everything. You get a bag to put your Swim to Bike gear in. You get a bag to put your Bike to Run gear in. You get bags to put your Bike and Run Special Needs in. I was surprised there were no bags for your pre-race bathroom needs and your post-race vomitathlon. We got a bag for dry clothes after the race, but this seemed so far in the future and slightly out of the realm of possibility, that I had a hard time deciding what to put in it.
On Friday, we all took a rest day and decided as a group to drive the bike course in Greg & Joanie's rented soccer Mom Super Mini-Van. This van had it all, the keyless remote not only opened both side sliding doors, but opened the power rear hatch. I think only Greg, with his years of engineering experience, was able to properly use the remote, the rest of us spent the trip pushing buttons until something happened (I kept opening the rear hatch every time I wanted to change the radio station). Our journey on the bike course took us through some beautiful countryside. We were sure to soak it all in knowing the next time we passed that way, we would probably be focused on the 6 inches on either side of the white line. Ethan attempted to purchase some organic fruit from one of the local growers who had a large sign out front reading "Danny's Organic Fruit Sold Here" with a big arrow pointing down this dirt lane. We turned down the lane and wound our way to this barn and farmhouse. There was what appeared to be another customer in front of us purchasing fruit, so Ethan politely waited his turn. He then approached a lady who we assumed was Danny's wife or mother or sister or cousin or maybe a combination. He asked what fruit was for sale. She said she did not have any fruit for sale. Now, while she was stating this, Ethan was standing in the barn surrounded by crates of fresh apples, peaches, and other assorted fruit. We were a bit confused, but decided to proceed on our way. My only thought is that Ethan was speaking "American" and the lady was obviously "Canadian", so maybe there was a language barrier. Ethan eventually found his fruit and all was well with the world. The drive of the course took us about 2.5 hours with a few stops along the way (consider that it took us 5.5 hours to ride it). We were able to get a good sense of the route including the infamous Richter Pass and Yellow Lake climbs. I was feeling good that all the training we had done riding Diablo, the Bears, Palomares, Mines Road, and Del Puerto Canyon had prepared us for these climbs. My anxiety meter was reading a bit lower, although still pretty high, after our little drive.
Saturday before the race was a flurry of activity including, but not limited to, a pre-race mini triathlon of 15 minutes of swimming, biking, and running, attending a pre-race meeting, dropping off our bikes and assorted gear bags, concocting our various drinks, gels, and foodstuffs, and eating a huge pasta/chicken meal prepared by our wonderful support crew of Janine, Joanie, and Debbie. At one point in the afternoon, Greg, Ethan, and I had something like 20 bottles and gel flasks in the kitchen surrounded by white powders, yellow powders, green powders, brown gels, red gels, and blue gels. It sort of looked like a crack house that was dabbling in the jelly/syrup business. Remarkably all of us seemed to be pretty calm Saturday evening once all the preparation was completed and we were stuffing in the last few mouthfuls of carbs consisting of apple and cherry pie. I guess we had resigned ourselves to the fact that there was nothing we could do at that point other than race the damn thing.
Sunday morning started at 4AM. I actually slept all through the night which is a unique pre-race experience for me (ask Fred for details). We stuffed various bagels, cereals, protein shakes, fruit, and other assorted foods in our mouths with a healthy splash of coffee to wash it all down. Debbie then drove us down to the start line at 5AM so we could do our final bike and gear bag preps. Since you do not have a traditional transition spot next to your bike, you have to make sure that all your gear is in the proper bag. Around 6:15AM, they began moving us down the road to the swim start, this huge mass of bodies in wetsuits and swim caps meandering down Main street Penticton. We arrived at the beach to bag pipe music which made me think we were marching off to battle. I noticed quite a few people staring out at the first buoy which seemed at least 3 miles away. Many were just lost in thought of what the day would hold for them. We watched the 30 or so Pros start at 6:45AM, then dove in for a few warm up strokes. As Ethan commented, when we turned around to swim back into the beach, all we could see was this wall of humanity stretching across the beach going back 20 to 30 deep.
I lined up to the left of the buoy line thinking I could steer right and avoid the crush of the start. Unfortunately, many had the same thought, so I was caught in this wedge from swimmers on my left pushing me towards the buoy line and swimmers on my right not swimming very straight and pushing me into the swimmers on my left. I felt like a centrist politician trying to push through legislation while liberal and conservative sharks tried to nudge me towards their political side of the spectrum. In what could only be described as the most extreme washing machine of a swim, I finally rounded the first buoy and found some open water. I settled into a nice pace and considered the task ahead of me. I quickly thought of something else since the task ahead of me was too hard to comprehend. The swim finish arrived sooner than expected and I was happy to be back on solid land again. I ran up the beach and was confronted by one of the renowned "wetsuit strippers". He ordered me on my back then proceeded to yank my wetsuit off. I was glad I had remembered to tie by shorts otherwise I may have revealed to the world exactly how cold the lake had been. I was pulled to my feet, handed my wetsuit, and then pushed towards the changing tent. On the way, I was handed my gear bag. I stumbled into the tent and found a chair, trying at the same time to collect my thoughts. The tent was a mad-house with socks, shoes, helmets, arms, legs, and feet flying everywhere. I was surprised to come out the other end with my own shoes on my own feet and my own helmet actually buckled to my head, even my socks matched. As I ran to my bike, I was assaulted by the sun tan lotion ladies who smeared large glops of lotion on any exposed body part. I had so much of the stuff on me that I almost slid off my bike when I went to get on it.
The bike leg was quite enjoyable. The pre-race jitters were gone, I had survived the washing machine, and I was peddling along at a good cadence and speed. Some local moron decided to show their intelligence level and throw out tacks to welcome the first athletes to ride past. I counted about 35 flats in the first 20 miles of the bike course. My thanks and condolences to those faster swimmers and riders than me who graciously cleared the course of the tacks beforeI came through. I spent the time on the bike making sure I did not violate any drafting rules and maintaining my hydration and nutrition strategy. The climb up Yellow Lake was monumental with fans lining both sides of the course screaming for all of us. I picked off at least 20 riders on the climb and then put my head down for a fast 15 downhill miles back into town. Once into town, I saw Janine, Joanie, and Debbie cheering us on around mile 4 of the run/bike course.
T2 was much like T1 with shoes flying and more glops of sun tan lotion. I ran out of transition and started to click off the miles. I saw our support team at mile 4, then focused on the turn-around at 13 miles. I caught up to Ethan around mile 10 and we traded places for awhile. Around mile 14, I started to cramp up in my stomach and sides, so took a bathroom break. Ethan passed me and I never saw him again until the finish. I continued to have cramping for the second half of the marathon, so I resorted to walking and running when I could. The cramps felt like somebody was sticking a knife in my sides every time I took a step. I know now that it was probably dueto a lack of electrolytes. Someone told me that I should have had the chicken broth; the salt would have helped with the cramps. Hindsight is always 20/20. Trust me, chicken broth at mile 16 of the run DID NOT sound like a good idea. Greg passed me somewhere around this point with words of encouragement. I commented that I wanted to be like him when I grew up, then waved him on to a stellar finish. I did a bit of urking at mile 22 in a nice plant in front of McDonalds. I think the patrons in the front dining room watching me probably thought it was in response to McD's food. They all made faces and left quickly.
I managed to fight my way to the finish and forced myself to run the last mile (where all the spectators were). I was "caught" by two of the IM catchers who are obligated to stay with you for 10 minutes after finishing. They tended to my needs and even walked out into the lake with me so I could soak my legs. I found Janine and the gang, but then decided to visit the med tent for an IV. I was having trouble keeping anything down after the race which was a good sign I was dehydrated. Janine commented that I was looking pretty pale and drawn. I did not weigh myself, but I imagine I was down 6 or 7 pounds from the start of the race.
Would I do it again? Yes. Will it be soon? No. Thanks to my wonderful wife. Thanks to Greg and Ethan and Joanie and Debbie for all your support.
Joanie, Greg, Janine, and I arrived on Wednesday prior to the race on Sunday. Ethan and Debbie flew up on Thursday. That gave all of us at least two full days to develop a full case of the pre-race jitters and fret over what seemed endless details. Greg and I went down to the lake on Thursday morning to scope out the course and test the shrinkage factor of the water. To our surprise, the water was the perfect temperature for wetsuit assisted swimming. I think it was about 68-69 degrees. Janine swam with us without her wetsuit, but was a bit on the cold side after about 20 minutes of swimming. Joanie took the smart approach and volunteered to watch our stuff and work on her tan while catching up on the latest gossip in People. I remember Greg remarking "this is an awfully big lake" and I responded, "yeah, and I we get to swim at least 2.4 miles of it (or more like 2.7 miles if you fail to navigate correctly).
We went to pick up our registration packets that afternoon along with a few hundred other nervous, jittery competitors. Who needs caffeine when you can have a nice dose of pre-race anxiety! Our packets included about 50 different "gear" bags. Ironman gives you a bag for practically everything. You get a bag to put your Swim to Bike gear in. You get a bag to put your Bike to Run gear in. You get bags to put your Bike and Run Special Needs in. I was surprised there were no bags for your pre-race bathroom needs and your post-race vomitathlon. We got a bag for dry clothes after the race, but this seemed so far in the future and slightly out of the realm of possibility, that I had a hard time deciding what to put in it.
On Friday, we all took a rest day and decided as a group to drive the bike course in Greg & Joanie's rented soccer Mom Super Mini-Van. This van had it all, the keyless remote not only opened both side sliding doors, but opened the power rear hatch. I think only Greg, with his years of engineering experience, was able to properly use the remote, the rest of us spent the trip pushing buttons until something happened (I kept opening the rear hatch every time I wanted to change the radio station). Our journey on the bike course took us through some beautiful countryside. We were sure to soak it all in knowing the next time we passed that way, we would probably be focused on the 6 inches on either side of the white line. Ethan attempted to purchase some organic fruit from one of the local growers who had a large sign out front reading "Danny's Organic Fruit Sold Here" with a big arrow pointing down this dirt lane. We turned down the lane and wound our way to this barn and farmhouse. There was what appeared to be another customer in front of us purchasing fruit, so Ethan politely waited his turn. He then approached a lady who we assumed was Danny's wife or mother or sister or cousin or maybe a combination. He asked what fruit was for sale. She said she did not have any fruit for sale. Now, while she was stating this, Ethan was standing in the barn surrounded by crates of fresh apples, peaches, and other assorted fruit. We were a bit confused, but decided to proceed on our way. My only thought is that Ethan was speaking "American" and the lady was obviously "Canadian", so maybe there was a language barrier. Ethan eventually found his fruit and all was well with the world. The drive of the course took us about 2.5 hours with a few stops along the way (consider that it took us 5.5 hours to ride it). We were able to get a good sense of the route including the infamous Richter Pass and Yellow Lake climbs. I was feeling good that all the training we had done riding Diablo, the Bears, Palomares, Mines Road, and Del Puerto Canyon had prepared us for these climbs. My anxiety meter was reading a bit lower, although still pretty high, after our little drive.
Saturday before the race was a flurry of activity including, but not limited to, a pre-race mini triathlon of 15 minutes of swimming, biking, and running, attending a pre-race meeting, dropping off our bikes and assorted gear bags, concocting our various drinks, gels, and foodstuffs, and eating a huge pasta/chicken meal prepared by our wonderful support crew of Janine, Joanie, and Debbie. At one point in the afternoon, Greg, Ethan, and I had something like 20 bottles and gel flasks in the kitchen surrounded by white powders, yellow powders, green powders, brown gels, red gels, and blue gels. It sort of looked like a crack house that was dabbling in the jelly/syrup business. Remarkably all of us seemed to be pretty calm Saturday evening once all the preparation was completed and we were stuffing in the last few mouthfuls of carbs consisting of apple and cherry pie. I guess we had resigned ourselves to the fact that there was nothing we could do at that point other than race the damn thing.
Sunday morning started at 4AM. I actually slept all through the night which is a unique pre-race experience for me (ask Fred for details). We stuffed various bagels, cereals, protein shakes, fruit, and other assorted foods in our mouths with a healthy splash of coffee to wash it all down. Debbie then drove us down to the start line at 5AM so we could do our final bike and gear bag preps. Since you do not have a traditional transition spot next to your bike, you have to make sure that all your gear is in the proper bag. Around 6:15AM, they began moving us down the road to the swim start, this huge mass of bodies in wetsuits and swim caps meandering down Main street Penticton. We arrived at the beach to bag pipe music which made me think we were marching off to battle. I noticed quite a few people staring out at the first buoy which seemed at least 3 miles away. Many were just lost in thought of what the day would hold for them. We watched the 30 or so Pros start at 6:45AM, then dove in for a few warm up strokes. As Ethan commented, when we turned around to swim back into the beach, all we could see was this wall of humanity stretching across the beach going back 20 to 30 deep.
I lined up to the left of the buoy line thinking I could steer right and avoid the crush of the start. Unfortunately, many had the same thought, so I was caught in this wedge from swimmers on my left pushing me towards the buoy line and swimmers on my right not swimming very straight and pushing me into the swimmers on my left. I felt like a centrist politician trying to push through legislation while liberal and conservative sharks tried to nudge me towards their political side of the spectrum. In what could only be described as the most extreme washing machine of a swim, I finally rounded the first buoy and found some open water. I settled into a nice pace and considered the task ahead of me. I quickly thought of something else since the task ahead of me was too hard to comprehend. The swim finish arrived sooner than expected and I was happy to be back on solid land again. I ran up the beach and was confronted by one of the renowned "wetsuit strippers". He ordered me on my back then proceeded to yank my wetsuit off. I was glad I had remembered to tie by shorts otherwise I may have revealed to the world exactly how cold the lake had been. I was pulled to my feet, handed my wetsuit, and then pushed towards the changing tent. On the way, I was handed my gear bag. I stumbled into the tent and found a chair, trying at the same time to collect my thoughts. The tent was a mad-house with socks, shoes, helmets, arms, legs, and feet flying everywhere. I was surprised to come out the other end with my own shoes on my own feet and my own helmet actually buckled to my head, even my socks matched. As I ran to my bike, I was assaulted by the sun tan lotion ladies who smeared large glops of lotion on any exposed body part. I had so much of the stuff on me that I almost slid off my bike when I went to get on it.
The bike leg was quite enjoyable. The pre-race jitters were gone, I had survived the washing machine, and I was peddling along at a good cadence and speed. Some local moron decided to show their intelligence level and throw out tacks to welcome the first athletes to ride past. I counted about 35 flats in the first 20 miles of the bike course. My thanks and condolences to those faster swimmers and riders than me who graciously cleared the course of the tacks beforeI came through. I spent the time on the bike making sure I did not violate any drafting rules and maintaining my hydration and nutrition strategy. The climb up Yellow Lake was monumental with fans lining both sides of the course screaming for all of us. I picked off at least 20 riders on the climb and then put my head down for a fast 15 downhill miles back into town. Once into town, I saw Janine, Joanie, and Debbie cheering us on around mile 4 of the run/bike course.
T2 was much like T1 with shoes flying and more glops of sun tan lotion. I ran out of transition and started to click off the miles. I saw our support team at mile 4, then focused on the turn-around at 13 miles. I caught up to Ethan around mile 10 and we traded places for awhile. Around mile 14, I started to cramp up in my stomach and sides, so took a bathroom break. Ethan passed me and I never saw him again until the finish. I continued to have cramping for the second half of the marathon, so I resorted to walking and running when I could. The cramps felt like somebody was sticking a knife in my sides every time I took a step. I know now that it was probably dueto a lack of electrolytes. Someone told me that I should have had the chicken broth; the salt would have helped with the cramps. Hindsight is always 20/20. Trust me, chicken broth at mile 16 of the run DID NOT sound like a good idea. Greg passed me somewhere around this point with words of encouragement. I commented that I wanted to be like him when I grew up, then waved him on to a stellar finish. I did a bit of urking at mile 22 in a nice plant in front of McDonalds. I think the patrons in the front dining room watching me probably thought it was in response to McD's food. They all made faces and left quickly.
I managed to fight my way to the finish and forced myself to run the last mile (where all the spectators were). I was "caught" by two of the IM catchers who are obligated to stay with you for 10 minutes after finishing. They tended to my needs and even walked out into the lake with me so I could soak my legs. I found Janine and the gang, but then decided to visit the med tent for an IV. I was having trouble keeping anything down after the race which was a good sign I was dehydrated. Janine commented that I was looking pretty pale and drawn. I did not weigh myself, but I imagine I was down 6 or 7 pounds from the start of the race.
Would I do it again? Yes. Will it be soon? No. Thanks to my wonderful wife. Thanks to Greg and Ethan and Joanie and Debbie for all your support.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
2005 Trans Tahoe Relay
Shrink to fit.
First off, many thanks to Dan & Diann for once again hosting the swimmers, family, and friends this weekend for the Trans Tahoe Relay swim. Thanks to Pat for all his energy and resources to provide us with a great boat and being a fantastic Team Captain. He exceeded all of our expectations especially considering he was running on minimal sleep from too many red-eye flights to Sydney. Thanks to Dave E., Clara, and Debbie for providing crucial mid-race kayak support. They paddled out from Tahoe City to meet the swimmers about half way across the lake. Thanks to Dan for his exceptional baby- sitting talents corralling Aiden, Caden, and Shannon while we swam. And finally, thanks to my team mates Janine, Diann, Ethan, Pat, and Clancy for another memorable Trans Tahoe.
Our weekend began on Friday afternoon with a fairly grueling drive up to Tahoe through 5.5 hours of traffic hell. Janine and I caravanned with Clancy and her son Caden up to the Boyle Bungalow. Pat and his lovely assistant Clara hauled the boat up about and hour earlier and provided us with road and traffic conditions via mobile phone. Dan, Diann, Aiden, and Shannon preceded Pat only by a bit, but had the house prepped and ready to accommodate the masses when we arrived. Ethan and Debbie, plus Dave E. drove up later in the evening but miraculously made better time than the early departees. We enjoyed a fabulous pasta dinner Friday night prepared by Clara, Pat, Janine, and Diann. We watched a little Le Tour, then crashed in preparation for a long cold swim in the morning.
Saturday morning came way to quick with alarms going off at 5AM. We were down to the boat and on the water by 6:15AM, a new record for our team. Normally, we are speeding across the lake to Sandy Harbor in a frantic effort to get our first swimmer to the start in time for the 7:30AM race start. This year, we could actually motor across the lake at a somewhat leisurely pace, do our bathroom stop, drop Ethan (our first swimmer) at the start, and motor out off-shore to wait for him to start. Now, if you have not done Trans Tahoe before, picture this. There are 150 teams of 6 people each, so there are 150 boats bobbing around about a quarter mile off-shore. 150 swimmers line up on shore, the gun goes off and they start to swim out towards all these boats. A mad scramble ensues to try to locate each team's swimmer. Some boats have balloons, flags, inflatable dolls, or other such devices for the swimmers to spot while some of the swimmers tie inflatable balloons or inflatable pool toys to their butts so their boats can spot them. We actually found Ethan fairly quickly despite his attempt at trying to fool us. We found a swimmer that sure looked like Ethan, but we then realized he had no goggles. We all thought Ethan would not swim without goggles, so we kept looking for him. It was only after Diann did her best Air Force yell to attract his attention that we realized goggle-less man was in fact Ethan.
Now we were off and running. We changed swimmers every 30 minutes, then every 15 minutes after the first rotation, then every 10 minutes. The water was fairly smooth until the end when it started to get choppy and we encountered many boat wakes. Clara, Dave E., and Debbie met us and provided great moral support mid way through the race. Everyone swam superbly despite the cold water (about 58-60 degrees this year). I was given the honor of taking the team to the finish line this year and my lovely wife Janine joined me for the last 300 yards. Our goal this year was to place in the top 100 teams and we did just that. We came in 100 out of 150 teams.
Next year, with a little better navigation and some more training, hey, we may crack the top 90!
First off, many thanks to Dan & Diann for once again hosting the swimmers, family, and friends this weekend for the Trans Tahoe Relay swim. Thanks to Pat for all his energy and resources to provide us with a great boat and being a fantastic Team Captain. He exceeded all of our expectations especially considering he was running on minimal sleep from too many red-eye flights to Sydney. Thanks to Dave E., Clara, and Debbie for providing crucial mid-race kayak support. They paddled out from Tahoe City to meet the swimmers about half way across the lake. Thanks to Dan for his exceptional baby- sitting talents corralling Aiden, Caden, and Shannon while we swam. And finally, thanks to my team mates Janine, Diann, Ethan, Pat, and Clancy for another memorable Trans Tahoe.
Our weekend began on Friday afternoon with a fairly grueling drive up to Tahoe through 5.5 hours of traffic hell. Janine and I caravanned with Clancy and her son Caden up to the Boyle Bungalow. Pat and his lovely assistant Clara hauled the boat up about and hour earlier and provided us with road and traffic conditions via mobile phone. Dan, Diann, Aiden, and Shannon preceded Pat only by a bit, but had the house prepped and ready to accommodate the masses when we arrived. Ethan and Debbie, plus Dave E. drove up later in the evening but miraculously made better time than the early departees. We enjoyed a fabulous pasta dinner Friday night prepared by Clara, Pat, Janine, and Diann. We watched a little Le Tour, then crashed in preparation for a long cold swim in the morning.
Saturday morning came way to quick with alarms going off at 5AM. We were down to the boat and on the water by 6:15AM, a new record for our team. Normally, we are speeding across the lake to Sandy Harbor in a frantic effort to get our first swimmer to the start in time for the 7:30AM race start. This year, we could actually motor across the lake at a somewhat leisurely pace, do our bathroom stop, drop Ethan (our first swimmer) at the start, and motor out off-shore to wait for him to start. Now, if you have not done Trans Tahoe before, picture this. There are 150 teams of 6 people each, so there are 150 boats bobbing around about a quarter mile off-shore. 150 swimmers line up on shore, the gun goes off and they start to swim out towards all these boats. A mad scramble ensues to try to locate each team's swimmer. Some boats have balloons, flags, inflatable dolls, or other such devices for the swimmers to spot while some of the swimmers tie inflatable balloons or inflatable pool toys to their butts so their boats can spot them. We actually found Ethan fairly quickly despite his attempt at trying to fool us. We found a swimmer that sure looked like Ethan, but we then realized he had no goggles. We all thought Ethan would not swim without goggles, so we kept looking for him. It was only after Diann did her best Air Force yell to attract his attention that we realized goggle-less man was in fact Ethan.
Now we were off and running. We changed swimmers every 30 minutes, then every 15 minutes after the first rotation, then every 10 minutes. The water was fairly smooth until the end when it started to get choppy and we encountered many boat wakes. Clara, Dave E., and Debbie met us and provided great moral support mid way through the race. Everyone swam superbly despite the cold water (about 58-60 degrees this year). I was given the honor of taking the team to the finish line this year and my lovely wife Janine joined me for the last 300 yards. Our goal this year was to place in the top 100 teams and we did just that. We came in 100 out of 150 teams.
Next year, with a little better navigation and some more training, hey, we may crack the top 90!
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