The IM CDA saga has to start way back in September of 2005 when I and two hardy and brave souls, Ethan and Greg, participated in our inaugural Ironman way up in Penticton, Canada. My lovely wife Janine after having been a staid and steady supporter during the race decided she was ready to try her hand at IM. Now, this revelation took place shortly after I had finished the race and had uttered those immortal words "there's no way I'm doing another one of those @$@$^(& races in the near future". Being the supportive and generous husband I am and also realizing that I would not see my lovely wife for 6 months if I did not train with her, I reluctantly agreed to race IM CDA with her in June 2006. Trust me when I say I savored those three short months at the end of 2005 where I did not have to train like a madman and could even sleep in on Saturday mornings.
The pain, I mean training, started in January. We loaded up the pantry with a 6 month supply of nutritional goodies including various powders, gels, liquids, and pills. We had Hammer Nutrition on speed- dial and friends would stop by for Recoverite cocktails after long workouts.
Our training schedule started out modestly with our longer rides lasting 2 ½ to 3 hours. We seemed to have plenty of company on those rides, but the crowd soon thinned when the rides began to stretch to 4, 5, and 6 hours. During this time of intense training and preparation, I learned many things about myself and my relationship with my lovely wife. I learned some very important things about my body like I'm not immune from saddle sores, toenails are optional for distance runners, and it is not wise to schedule Monday morning meetings at 8AM after a weekend filled with 6 hour rides and 3 hour runs. I learned that there is a fine line between helpful encouragement for your spouse and comments that will land you sleeping with the dog in the garage. I also learned that true friends can be called on at the last minute to join you for a 2 hour ride in the dark and cold of a February night.
Our journey was aided by many old and new friends from the Huffers & Puffers Running Club, Tri-Valley Masters, and FMRC. We met John Stark on a grueling century ride down in Gilroy, his little brother Dave Stark when we began swimming at the local sewage treatment plant; I mean Shadowcliffs Lake, Carrie and Steve Chavez at the IM Seminar, and many others. Everyone was very helpful and supportive in our quest to finish strong and upright at CDA. Our coaches were exceptional with Myles Murphy providing superb guidance to Janine and Patricia LaSalle helping guide me through my second IM. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, we were traveling north to CDA. Our Southwest "Greyhound Bus of the Skies" Flight was packed full of A-type IM competitors and families. It was evident that the plane was full of triathletes just by the observation that most of the men on board had less leg and body hair than the women. I overheard one triDude discussing leg shaving techniques with the triGal next to him. We watched in amusement as many obviously anxious and excited athletes strutted around and showed off their latest race shirts and race schwag. I felt a tinge of sympathy for the non-IM crowd on board the plane, since they must have been thinking that in the event of an evacuation, they had no chance making it out of the emergency exits before all the tan and fit hardbodies on board.
We arrived in CDA on Wednesday night and met our housemates we would be sharing a place with for the next 6 days. I had only talked to Matt McCormick on the phone, so I had no idea what to expect. He had his wife, Kathy, and two daughters, Mallory and Madison with him. All my worries were dispelled the moment we met the family. We could not have asked for better housemates. Since I seem to have an affinity for small kids and dogs, Mallory took an instant attachment to me. From that point forward, I was the go-to guy for checker games (talk about having your ego bruised, try getting beat by a 6- year old repeatedly at checkers), watching movies, and hitting the playground. I was also not allowed to cross the street without her holding my hand so that I would not stray out into traffic.
The next three days were filled with registration, butterflies in the stomach, practice swims, a little riding and running, more butterflies, driving the bike course with Ross Pirkle and his dad Alan, the butterflies growing to the size of small birds, the team dinner on Thursday, meetings with our coaches, visiting with our Moms who came to CDA to cheer us on and volunteer as "catchers" and finally checking in all of our gear on Saturday afternoon. Saturday night finally arrived and I lay in bed wondering what Sunday would bring.
4AM- What is that loud buzzing? Oh crap, that's the alarm. Time to get up and go do this thing they call Ironman. We drove down to the course and found a decent parking spot realizing we would not be back to the car for at least another 14 hours. We joined the throng of athletes somberly walking towards the transition area. Everyone seemed very quiet and reserved, probably battling the same internal demons I had been chatting with all morning. After last minute checks and additions to our transition bags, Janine and I suited up and walked down to the water. The beach was literally wall to wall rubber. It resembled some new age S&M fetish festival. While waiting for the cannon to go off, I gave Janine a kiss, wished Chris McCrary good luck, shook hands with Todd Anderson, and planted a big wet one on John Stark. He reciprocated with a nice good luck butt pinch. I was ready to go.
Ironman swims are unique in the sport of triathlon. I guess the organizers feel the athletes do not have enough to worry about so they throw in a mass swim start. 2300 crazed lemmings splashed, crashed, punched, kicked, and chewed their way into the water. After about 20 seconds I was praying for the relative peace and quiet of a nice rugby scrum. In just the first half mile, I felt like I had gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, including the ear biting. During one turn around the buoys, I was literally pushed under the buoy. I looked up and saw this big orange pyramid surrounded by various arms, legs, and unidentifiable body parts. On the second lap of the swim, the melee did subside a bit, but it was still fairly violent all the way in.
I ran up the beach into the waiting arms of my very own wetsuit stripper. I made sure my shorts were secure, then lay down on the grass and told him to be gentle. He ripped my wetsuit off with a mighty tug, and then herded me towards the changing tent. I entered the tent amid a flurry of clothes changing, Bodyglide application, and suntan lotioning. I exited the other side attired, lathered, and balmed ready to ride.
We left the transition area through a tunnel of spectators cheering us on. I saw many of them starting their first beer of the day and I wanted to warn them that pacing was necessary since they would be out there under grueling drinking conditions. I hoped they took precautions and kept their beer/tequila ratio balanced accordingly for the conditions. The first lap of the bike went smoothly except for the howling headwind on the back stretch of the course. What was up with that? A couple of packs passed me doing their best Tour de France peloton impressions, but I resisted the temptation to suck wheel. I projected some negative energy towards the cheating riders and was rewarded with the sight of a few of the scofflaws cooling their heels in the penalty tent. The heat began to build on lap two and I was draining my aero bottle as fast as I could fill it. I did not see any other FRMC'letes with the exception of Kiko who blew by me on lap 1 like I was in reverse. Despite being out on the bike for over 5 hours, the time passed fairly quickly. I either had some song stuck in my head (why did it have to be "Freebird"?) or I was wondering where Janine was on the course. I hoped everyone was OK and having a good ride.
I came into T2 and started to follow my bike as some volunteer wheeled it away. Another volunteer tackled me and steered me towards the changing tent where I was met by my personal tri-Valet. He dumped out my run gear, packed up my bike gear, helped with sun lotioning, and made sure I was ready for the next part of the adventure. I jogged out onto the course into a screaming mass of humanity. The first three miles felt as they should, I was on pace, even a bit fast, so I kept replaying Patricia, my coach's, words that she would find me and kick my ass if I deviated from my run pace. I slowed it down for the next few miles, but then noticed that I was slowing down too far. My legs started to get heavy and I was no longer sweating. I tried to do some damage control by walking and forcing in calories and electrolytes. I was never able to get a second wind, so I made the best of it and walked/slow jogged the rest of the marathon. The temperature seemed to keep climbing and rumors circulated as to how hot it really was. I heard estimates of anywhere from 95F to 110F. Our team supporters were awesome, including my Mom, Janine's Mom, the Cramers, the Starks, the McCormicks, Kelby, Patricia and many more that lined the course. A few of my teammates passed me but always took a moment to offer a word of encouragement or in Carrie's case, a big hug. All the assistance made the difference in completing what became a major suffer-fest. I saw Janine with her ever present smile as I was rounding the corner back into the neighborhood. She was not that far behind me and I knew she would finish strong.
At mile 25, I remembered my favorite slogan from IM Canada last year – Suck it up Cupcake! I rallied what reserves I had left and broke into what some may call a run. The sight of the finish line and the cheering crowds spurred me on. I crossed the line and was caught by two of the helpful volunteers. They were immediately replaced by my Mom and Janine's Mom. I'm not sure my Mom had seen me covered in so much goo and slime in at least 35 years. Despite looking and smelling like something our cat just hacked up, they took expert care of me.
Janine finished sooner than I expected, actually beating my marathon time by 1 minute. I'm not sure I will live that one down for awhile. I was not at the finish line to see her cross, but I'm sure she did it in style with her trademark grin. I'm extremely proud of her and now call her my very own "IronMaiden".
During the post-race, we learned that everyone had had there own set of challenges and adventures during the race. I'm sure we will be reveling our families and friends with our heroic tales of battling the puking pixies, stomach cramp serpents, the vomiting vermin, and the muscle cramp monsters for days to come.
Congrats to all.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Friday, May 5, 2006
2006 Napa Half Ironman (Redneckman)
A hardy band of anti-Wildflower FMRC triathletes ventured north to the Putah Creek "Resort" for the 2nd annual Napa Half Ironman Triathlon. I use the term resort VERY loosely. When you think of a resort, if you normally picture million dollar yachts bobbing at a well tended marina, overlooked by $500-1000/night bungalows, where you can eat in 5 star restaurants, surrounded by a championship golf course, where your every whim is catered to by a polished and professional staff, then you would be sorely disappointed by the Putah Creek Resort. The only boats tied up to a few floating logs where dilapidated bass boats with rusted outboard motors. The bungalows were cheesy motel rooms with shared bathrooms and shower facilities served by a restaurant that might have made the latest Sagat's 10 top places to contract hepatitis and explosive diarrhea. The only golf course was a dusty patch of weeds where a group of partially dressed lake urchins sullenly used a stick to whack a cracked and mud-caked golf ball into a gopher hole. The staff consisted of "Cookie" the one-eyed fry cook chain-smoker at the restaurant; Betty, the tattooed pierced bleach blonde Front Desk staffer and outhouse cleaner who looked like Keith Richards on a good day; Bubba, the pot bellied shower adverse alcoholic ex-convict marina worker and masseuse; and Pyro, the part time golf pro gardener ex-televangelist who had a thing for matches and lighter fluid.
I'm not sure who would choose to stay at this resort other than those who chose to spend Friday night there before the race. I would seriously question the sanity and judgment of anyone that purposely chose Putah Creek as their vacation destination. Putah Creek may not have been hell, but you sure could see it from there. My wife Janine and I stayed in Napa and enjoyed a nice Italian dinner in the downtown area. I think the folks that stayed at the resort had roasted roadkill with a side of Doritos and a Spam appetizer. Those “early riser” FRMC members drove up Saturday morning treating themselves to a twisting and turning poorly paved drive through the Napa countryside. Just the drive over from Napa proper loosened a few of my fillings and had Janine feeling a little car sick.
Despite being an Envirosports produced race, logistics and registration went surprisingly well. The event only drew about 450 people due to that “other” ½ IM, so setting up our transition area, getting registered and body marked (with Sharpies on the hands only – yeah!), and warming up were uneventful. They started the race promptly at 8AM with a two wave start. I saw most of the FRMC gang in the "experienced" wave. The swim was a two loop course in the 73 degree waters of Lake Berryessa. Dave Hoernig, the ring leader for Envirosports has a reputation for not quite accurately marking his courses and he did not disappoint us on Saturday. Unless I grew flippers and gills during the night, I think the swim course was a tad short.
We all exited the water and ran up a gravel strewn road (Note to self – tender feet and sharp gravel do not a happy marriage make). Due to a couple of out and back segments on the course, I was able to see many of the FMRC’letes as we raced the 56 mile leg (actually it was 57.5 miles). I was feeling really good and was working my way up into the top riders when I noticed that my rear wheel felt kind of funny. I told myself it couldn’t be a flat, I’ve never had a flat in a race, but as I glanced down, I noticed a quite apparent lack of air in my tire. I shouted a few choice curse words at the bike gods (which I think were overheard by a few of my fellow teammates –sorry), but quickly gathered myself and did a speedy (under 5 minutes) tube change. I took off with a vengeance thinking I could gain back a few of the places I had lost when "pop" my tire blew again about 6 miles down the road. This time, I just pulled over to the side and contemplated my options. Option 1 was to pick up my bike and hurl it into the bushes but I rejected this idea since I still needed my bike to get back to transition. Option 2 was to jog back to transition, but I still had 15 miles to go to the finish. Option 3 was to fix the flat, but I had only brought one tube, so I was stuck having to patch the tube. I had only 1 CO2 cartridge left and needed some of the CO2 to find the hole. I located the hole, patched it, and then inflated my tire with the remainder of the CO2. I think I only got about 40-50 psi into the tube instead of the normal 110-120 psi. I finished up the last 15 miles of the bike cringing every time I hit a bump fearing I would get a pinch flat. Many thanks to the FMRC’letes who passed me and offered assistance while I cursed and struggled with my flat foibles.
I finally made it into T2 and headed out on the run. I saw my lovely wife Janine coming in just as I was leaving the resort. She turned in an awesome 3:05 bike time on the very difficult course, 5 minutes faster than my time.
The run was on a 2 loop out and back course, so I could see all the FMRC’letes at each turnaround. The temperature had warmed up a bit by the second half of the run, but not to the point where it became a problem. True to form, the run course was a half mile long which had a few of us checking our watches. Despite feeling a bit defeated after the flats, I re-grouped and tried to turn a bad race day into a good training day.
Janine scorched the course and finished 2nd in her age-group. This is an exceptionally impressive achievement for her considering she had spent the week prior in Switzerland and had flown home Friday night. Plus, she had picked up a cold on the flight home so she was fighting mucus monsters most of the day.
All the FMRC’letes looked impressive. I’m sure there were many podium finishes among the 10 to 11 team members at the race. Congrats to all that competed at Napa (and Wildflower) this past weekend.
If anyone is looking for low key half Ironman, I would recommend either this race or Big Kahuna in Santa Cruz later in the year. If you do race Napa next year, say high to Cookie.
I'm not sure who would choose to stay at this resort other than those who chose to spend Friday night there before the race. I would seriously question the sanity and judgment of anyone that purposely chose Putah Creek as their vacation destination. Putah Creek may not have been hell, but you sure could see it from there. My wife Janine and I stayed in Napa and enjoyed a nice Italian dinner in the downtown area. I think the folks that stayed at the resort had roasted roadkill with a side of Doritos and a Spam appetizer. Those “early riser” FRMC members drove up Saturday morning treating themselves to a twisting and turning poorly paved drive through the Napa countryside. Just the drive over from Napa proper loosened a few of my fillings and had Janine feeling a little car sick.
Despite being an Envirosports produced race, logistics and registration went surprisingly well. The event only drew about 450 people due to that “other” ½ IM, so setting up our transition area, getting registered and body marked (with Sharpies on the hands only – yeah!), and warming up were uneventful. They started the race promptly at 8AM with a two wave start. I saw most of the FRMC gang in the "experienced" wave. The swim was a two loop course in the 73 degree waters of Lake Berryessa. Dave Hoernig, the ring leader for Envirosports has a reputation for not quite accurately marking his courses and he did not disappoint us on Saturday. Unless I grew flippers and gills during the night, I think the swim course was a tad short.
We all exited the water and ran up a gravel strewn road (Note to self – tender feet and sharp gravel do not a happy marriage make). Due to a couple of out and back segments on the course, I was able to see many of the FMRC’letes as we raced the 56 mile leg (actually it was 57.5 miles). I was feeling really good and was working my way up into the top riders when I noticed that my rear wheel felt kind of funny. I told myself it couldn’t be a flat, I’ve never had a flat in a race, but as I glanced down, I noticed a quite apparent lack of air in my tire. I shouted a few choice curse words at the bike gods (which I think were overheard by a few of my fellow teammates –sorry), but quickly gathered myself and did a speedy (under 5 minutes) tube change. I took off with a vengeance thinking I could gain back a few of the places I had lost when "pop" my tire blew again about 6 miles down the road. This time, I just pulled over to the side and contemplated my options. Option 1 was to pick up my bike and hurl it into the bushes but I rejected this idea since I still needed my bike to get back to transition. Option 2 was to jog back to transition, but I still had 15 miles to go to the finish. Option 3 was to fix the flat, but I had only brought one tube, so I was stuck having to patch the tube. I had only 1 CO2 cartridge left and needed some of the CO2 to find the hole. I located the hole, patched it, and then inflated my tire with the remainder of the CO2. I think I only got about 40-50 psi into the tube instead of the normal 110-120 psi. I finished up the last 15 miles of the bike cringing every time I hit a bump fearing I would get a pinch flat. Many thanks to the FMRC’letes who passed me and offered assistance while I cursed and struggled with my flat foibles.
I finally made it into T2 and headed out on the run. I saw my lovely wife Janine coming in just as I was leaving the resort. She turned in an awesome 3:05 bike time on the very difficult course, 5 minutes faster than my time.
The run was on a 2 loop out and back course, so I could see all the FMRC’letes at each turnaround. The temperature had warmed up a bit by the second half of the run, but not to the point where it became a problem. True to form, the run course was a half mile long which had a few of us checking our watches. Despite feeling a bit defeated after the flats, I re-grouped and tried to turn a bad race day into a good training day.
Janine scorched the course and finished 2nd in her age-group. This is an exceptionally impressive achievement for her considering she had spent the week prior in Switzerland and had flown home Friday night. Plus, she had picked up a cold on the flight home so she was fighting mucus monsters most of the day.
All the FMRC’letes looked impressive. I’m sure there were many podium finishes among the 10 to 11 team members at the race. Congrats to all that competed at Napa (and Wildflower) this past weekend.
If anyone is looking for low key half Ironman, I would recommend either this race or Big Kahuna in Santa Cruz later in the year. If you do race Napa next year, say high to Cookie.
Wednesday, October 5, 2005
2005 Santa Cruz Sentinel Triathlon
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.
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.
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!
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
2003 Pacific Grove Triathlon
A small, but fiesty band of triathletes and support crews ventured south to the mega-tropolis of Pacific Grove over the weekend for the 200th running of the Pacific Grove Triathlon. The Pac Grove Triathlon began with humble origins when Portuguese sardine fishermen accidentally fell off their boats while off the coast of Monterey. Without wetsuits, they swam through the kelp beds to the relative safety of the sand dunes north of town. From there, they caught wild donkeys which in those days roamed in greats herds along the California coast. The fisherman road the donkeys into town, then ran the last few miles to the nearest pub to tell their compatriots of their adventure. Since much fun was had by all, the swim, donkey ride, and run became an annual event with top prizes including sardines for life and crates of pickled kelp. Today the Pac Grove triathlon is a 1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run with winners completing the course in under 2 hours 15 minutes. And this feat is even more amazing considering no donkeys are allowed in the race.
Huffers and Puffers entered in the race this weekend were Sharla "Big Gears" Smith, Dorothy "Salty Lips" Golubski, and new H&P member Kim "Kelp Collector" Beastall. Support was provided by Gordon, Corinne, and Mickey Smith, Brian Cullen, and your host, Jeff Durban.
Sharla smoked the 40+ Age Group to place 5th, while Dorothy kicked butt to an awesome 7th place age group finish in the Sprint Event. Kim, having just come off of the Big Kahuna half Ironman race, powered to a 4th place age group finish.
Sharla flew on the bike course turning in one of the best bike splits of the day, while Dorothy had blindingly fast splits for all three events. And Kim was third out of the water after an amazing 24 minute swim.
Also competing this weekend were Dave Edney, Ethan Falls, "Pilot" Pat McCarthy, and Greg Novacek in the Tri for Real at the Pleasanton Sewage Treatment Plant, I mean, Shadowcliffs Regional Park. Preliminary reports indicate that H&P athletes dominated as usual in all age groups.
Congrats to all the H&P triathletes this weekend!
Huffers and Puffers entered in the race this weekend were Sharla "Big Gears" Smith, Dorothy "Salty Lips" Golubski, and new H&P member Kim "Kelp Collector" Beastall. Support was provided by Gordon, Corinne, and Mickey Smith, Brian Cullen, and your host, Jeff Durban.
Sharla smoked the 40+ Age Group to place 5th, while Dorothy kicked butt to an awesome 7th place age group finish in the Sprint Event. Kim, having just come off of the Big Kahuna half Ironman race, powered to a 4th place age group finish.
Sharla flew on the bike course turning in one of the best bike splits of the day, while Dorothy had blindingly fast splits for all three events. And Kim was third out of the water after an amazing 24 minute swim.
Also competing this weekend were Dave Edney, Ethan Falls, "Pilot" Pat McCarthy, and Greg Novacek in the Tri for Real at the Pleasanton Sewage Treatment Plant, I mean, Shadowcliffs Regional Park. Preliminary reports indicate that H&P athletes dominated as usual in all age groups.
Congrats to all the H&P triathletes this weekend!
Saturday, March 15, 2003
2003 Las Vegas Marathon
Congratulations to Dan and Kirsten for their awesome qualifying runs at the Las Vegas Marathon. Dan finished with a nice 1 minute cushion at 3:14:00 while Kirsten came in at 3:28 well under her needed 3:45. I, on the other hand, will have to wait for Boston next year.
To put some perspective on Dan's achievement, let me describe the conditions. We started the race with a slight offset tail wind coming up from our left shoulder. That changed to a side wind by about 8-9 miles. At about mile 12, we were running into a full head wind; sand, dust, and tumbleweeds tossed in to make it interesting. I had fallen back very early in the race, but Dan was able to get into a good pace group that worked together to overcome the wind. I struggled with the wind until mile 16 when I looked at my watch and realized that there was no way I was going to make 3:15 unless I grew rocket boosters out of my ass. Fighting the wind for another 10 miles was not high up on my to do list for the day, so I bagged it and walked over to the sag bus. I walked up on the bus and looked at the sea of faces before me and realized "these people are a bunch of LOSERS!!!!". I could not stomach riding home on the loser bus, so I got off, slogged back on the course and proceeded to finish the damm race in 3:39.
The headwind was reported to be 50 MPH with some 60 MPH gusts. All of us have the nice sandblasted facial look. Kirsten and I lost our contacts, and Dan is still cleaning dust and sand out of orifices he did not even knew he had.
Greg, Fred, and Janine ran great half marathons. Fred in at 1:27, Greg in 1:32 and Janine in at 1:50. Fred did some great pacing for Dan, and Greg was in position to pace me in, but no one could spot me. I was probably tucked into a pack of runners trying to stay out of the wind and sand.
Thanks to the Vegas group for a great weekend despite the race and thanks to all my well wishers prior to the race. I am bound and determined to run a 3:15...maybe Napa???
To put some perspective on Dan's achievement, let me describe the conditions. We started the race with a slight offset tail wind coming up from our left shoulder. That changed to a side wind by about 8-9 miles. At about mile 12, we were running into a full head wind; sand, dust, and tumbleweeds tossed in to make it interesting. I had fallen back very early in the race, but Dan was able to get into a good pace group that worked together to overcome the wind. I struggled with the wind until mile 16 when I looked at my watch and realized that there was no way I was going to make 3:15 unless I grew rocket boosters out of my ass. Fighting the wind for another 10 miles was not high up on my to do list for the day, so I bagged it and walked over to the sag bus. I walked up on the bus and looked at the sea of faces before me and realized "these people are a bunch of LOSERS!!!!". I could not stomach riding home on the loser bus, so I got off, slogged back on the course and proceeded to finish the damm race in 3:39.
The headwind was reported to be 50 MPH with some 60 MPH gusts. All of us have the nice sandblasted facial look. Kirsten and I lost our contacts, and Dan is still cleaning dust and sand out of orifices he did not even knew he had.
Greg, Fred, and Janine ran great half marathons. Fred in at 1:27, Greg in 1:32 and Janine in at 1:50. Fred did some great pacing for Dan, and Greg was in position to pace me in, but no one could spot me. I was probably tucked into a pack of runners trying to stay out of the wind and sand.
Thanks to the Vegas group for a great weekend despite the race and thanks to all my well wishers prior to the race. I am bound and determined to run a 3:15...maybe Napa???
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