Tri RobbyB Tri :: Race Report

After aquathon #3 was delayed twice due to blue-green algae blooms, aquathon #4 was upon us. My legs are tired from marathon training. The hamstrings are tight, my calf is on the verge of cramping, and my shins are a touch on the sore side. I notice Mark Harms, local triathlete extraordinaire, and instantly everyone's gunning for second. "At least I can draft off him (in the swim)," I say to myself.

SWIM
Right off the bat, and I'm behind. After a few lunges and it's me & Mark. Then it's just me. Then it's Mark & me again. Then just me. Mark was all over the place, hardly keeping a straight line. Oh well. I'll just swim by myself. I concentrate on my stroke as I tend to drop my head. Long strokes...breathe right once in a while...keep the head up...sight for the buoy..."Why isn't it getting closer?"...long strokes...so on and so forth. The wind carried the second buoy off course to make the course a touch long, and I notice (with my picked up head) the bubbles in front of me. I surge a bit to latch on Mark's wake and actually catch a draft to the turn. Then, he's gone. Way to the right. Sigh. I make my way to the transition and let some thoughts creep into my head that perhaps I'm in front? Nope. Mark comes in from the right and nips me by a few seconds.

RUN
Mark is out of transition first and I'm not too far behind. And then he's gone again. Not to the right, but right off the front. After the first turn, I couldn't see him. I commented to the volunteer at the turn, "Man, he's fast!" And she replied that he beat her to her spot. I was induced by his speed and went out too fast. At the first mile, it felt like I should be at the 2.5 mile mark. I blame the marathon training, but not necessarily unhappy with it. I laid back for the next mile, and then tried to build up the final mile. Coming down the final hill into finishing stretch, two guys pass me, but encourage me to finish with them. I pick it up, so do they. I hold my pace, they pull ahead. I finish just behind, collapsing to my knees on the timing mats.

Overall, not too bad given the lack of non-running training and crazy life this summer.Everyone concluded that the swim course was long. It was about a minute longer for me, so I was right at a PR if you take a minute off. I've got two more months before the marathon and hopefully can get all the house projects done by then.

Just a quick report on my second aquathon of the season.

There was a challenge issued among the local tri clubs to see who could get the most racers and the best times or something, so there were about 20 extra people there than normal. And it seemed they were all fast.

My main swim competitor, Brian, was there again. He and I led out the swim, but neither of us could hold a straight line. I tend to drop my head, and I think that pulls me off course. Halfway out the first leg of the 1000m triangle, I felt a surprise little tickle on my feet. "They'll drop away after the first turn," I thought. The turn came and went, and Brian and I are still side by side leading the race. There were still some tickles on my toes. Around the third buoy and headed for home, Brian and I zig-zag and occasionally run into each other. (I thought it was me, but after we confirmed it was the both of us.) Brian must've gotten caught in some waves, because I was able to open a small gap. Out of the water I crossed the timing mat first. As fun as it is to race the swim, I put forth a significant effort.

Brian passed me in transition. (I still have to mess with socks -- gotta break that habit.) I was out #2 and must've left the target on my back. I was passed up the first hill by the top female, and then by the next two guys down the hill. I kept running my race, got passed a few more times, but only once from the turn-around back in. I was actually able to hold off a group of four that were about 20 seconds behind me. (Small victories.) I need to learn how to run fast one of these years. The finish absolutely sucks on this course. You go up the hill, immediately down, and then turn to finish. There's no opportunity to recover after the hill (about the last half-mile.) I was actually yelling to myself to finish. My family scolded me for not acknowledging them down the finish chute, but I was too spent to do anything but make it across the line.

Official finish data:
overall place: 11 out of 92
time: 35:44
swim: 11:24
rate: 1:09/100m
trans: 0:38
run: 23:43
pace: 7:38/mi

I lead my age group for the overall series thus far.

The race was last weekend, but I haven't been able to get around to a real race report. Before I forget everything, I'd thought I'd share the day.

Quick facts:
Capitol View Triathlon (Inaugural race)
Gov. Nelson State Park, Waunakee, WI

Swim (400m): 5:57 - 1st OA
Bike (12 mi): 37:38 - 14th OA
Run (5K): 27:08 - 48th OA
Total: 1:12:56.7 17th OA, 1st AG (M30-34)

Swim
I warmed up with a few quick pick-ups in the water, saw some more friends and went to find my spot in the third wave. That's when I was pulled aside by a fellow competitor and convinced to be in the first, elite wave. There were less than 10 in the elites, and more than forty in the second wave and even more following that. Elite wave it is. On the horn, I took off sprinting. The water was shallow for a long time, prohibiting any good strokes. Once I could swim, I sprinted for a while to create a gap. I turned around the first buoy a little wide, lengthening the 400 meter course just a bit. I kept thinking I had some drafters, so I kicked hard every so often. Around the last buoy and headed for the beach, I made my way around the seawall to some nice cheers. I swam as long as I could, lifting my arms and pull as close to my body as possible. Once on the beach, I ran in first out of the water to a very nice applause.

Bike
First out of the water, and first out of T1 means you get to follow a lead car. This one was a white mid-90s Corvette. I kept hoping it would slow down to allow some drafting, but they were too smart to allow that. As soon as I crested the first hill, I got passed by a speedster on a P3. I got my first "nice swim." He took the 'vette with him, too. It was fun while it lasted. Just one other pass, and I held my own on the bike. The wind kicked up on the way back in. Seeing the waves behind me appreciated the open road from the elite placement.

Run
My legs were really heavy out of T2. I just stuck with a shortened stride and kept the turnover high. I wanted to be as even as possible. However, this is the part of the race everyone left talking about. It was a cross country course, with the first half winding through the woods and the second half in the open field. Trouble was, every turn in the woods meant going up another hill. Also, communications were crossed on the course setup, so the mile markers didn't make the course. If you didn't catch the route maps ahead of time, having to run past the finish line was a cruel joke. The winding, hilly course threw off everyone's internal odometer, and were surprised to hear they had another 1.5 miles left as the past the line from the wrong side, many sprinting thinking that they were finishing. I just held my pace as long as possible, got passed by three more from the elite wave and finished slower that I hoped, but felt better knowing the overall leader didn't break an hour.

Final thoughts
Triathlons are getting fun to attend. I know more and more people, and old friends are now competing. I need to remember to get to transition earlier so I can talk longer with friends. I had relatively low expectations going into this race with very, very few rides and little run base as I work my way back from a sprained ankle. The first place age group finish was a big surprise. Winning it by 2+ minutes was an even bigger surprise. I got a really nice custom medal that made me smile.

Winter's final grasp
After a record-breaking winter season of snow, spring and summer have had difficulty establishing consistent temperatures and conditions. Just this past Monday, it was 82. The following day, it was 55. We're three weeks away from the official start of summer and I haven't even taken the cover off the air conditioner. Thus, the long, drawn-out winter hasn't given enough time to warm the lakes. I asked the lady marking me if the lake was cold. She hesitated a long while before replying with a drawn out "wellll..." I asked if it was above or below 60°. I got no reply. Yikes!

I readied my transition area and went on a warm-up run. The ankle showed no ill affects, so I tested it with some successful strides; all was good on the running front. Next up: the lake. I squeezed into my wetsuit and went to the water's edge. Then I couldn't feel my feet. Actually, it wasn't that bad, but it was cold to be sure. The first few face plants in the water definitely took your breath away, but after a few minutes, you got used to it.

Since I'm more under-trained than I'd like to be, the strategy was to get on someone's feet for the swim and run my own pace & race. Nice and easy, just survive the day to get ready for the next one.

SWIM
The gun went off and we're off. There were two PRO* guys right in front of me. What better feet to draft off than a couple of PROs? Turns out, one's pretty damn fast, and the other can't hold his line very well. I'm on his feet one stroke, the next he's three feet to the right. Then he's right in front of me, the next, he's on my left, pushing both of us right. I let him go and resign to a long slow swim by myself until a catch an orange cap streaking up the left side. NICE! I'm on his feet until we turn around the first buoy when he stops dead in the water. I nearly scaled his back and swam over him but thought better of it and skirted around. I'm left to my own thoughts now, trying to keep my strokes long, even, and smooth. The cold moved beyond the exposed skin and is now sinking into my muscles. My triceps are heavy and stiff. I can feel the tension building with every stroke. All the more reason to keep things long. I try breathing to my off-side (right) for a while and catch myself drifting off-line. I continue zig-zagging the course chasing what I think are the two PROs in front of me, but I see nothing. I swim into the shore as far as possible until I grab clumps of sand instead of all water. Getting up is a challenge until the warm blood returns to the legs. Transition is empty save for the top PRO. Second out of the water? Really? That's a nice surprise. At my stuff, my hands are like clubs as I fiddle with wetsuit and try to put on socks and shoes. The other PROs arrive while I'm leaving for the run.

RUN
Everything about me is cold right now. My feet are anvils swinging from frayed ropes. I have no control over anything, but somehow I manage forward progress. It feels real funny. My fingers aren't really moving. My triceps are stiff and sore. And then a gull shits on my head. Then another. And another until I realize it's starting to rain. Fun! I settle into a nice pace. The other two PROs pass me before the first hill, which I climbed with surprising ease, probably because I couldn't really feel the pain. Back down the hill and around the path, I didn't get passed by the PRO woman until just before the turnaround. Now getting a first look at what was coming up my backside, I thought a few more could catch me. But I never heard footsteps. Up and down the final hill, I powered down the long straightaway that leads to the finish. It was now raining at a fine clip and I finally felt my fingers move. I held off a late charge to maintain fifth place overall.

I felt no feedback from my ankle, Achilles or calf, which is promising for the upcoming marathon training. And I also got a $15 gift certificate to Quaker Steak and Lube for my 2nd place swim.

1K SWIM: 12:01 (1:13/100m) 2nd/74
5K Run: 23:09 (7:28/mi) 28th/74
Total: 35:59 5th/74

What's shocking is that when comparing the times above to last year's performances, I'm right there. I swam slightly slower, but that's expected given the solo effort and cold water. But my run split was the fastest ever! At this point, I don't know if it's a fluke or a sign of things to come. We'll see what happens next time with a warmer lake.

*PRO to me means really, really fast. Plus, I heard them discussing other races and whether they'd be racing as PROs there.

From a sprained ankle, to increased time at work and a squirrel in the house, the spring base-building season has been trying to say the least. Normally, the Crazylegs Classic 8K run is a good indicator of my fitness level. With all of this, I didn't think I'd even be able to run. But, with good fortune and some good advice from a good physical therapist, I was able to run/walk it. Better yet, I convinced my buddy Paul to do it with me. Paul helped with the wave start so we got to go in the 36th and very last wave, "jj."

We decided on intervals of 4 minutes of running, and one minute walking. As is the norm, we went out really fast on downhill start. Using better judgment, we held back as best we could. A couple of well-placed intervals and we were through the first mile in one piece. The next rest interval ended just as Observatory Hill tipped skyward. Paul walked a bit, but we forged ahead. A couple of more well-timed rests and we cruised through miles two and three. We walked through the water stop, slammed a few cups down and kept running. The pace reduced from this point forward, but we kept things at a sub 11-min/mi pace, and I stayed ahead of Paul to give him something to chase. A quick check of the watch and we were set for a sub one-hour finish, a PR for Paul. I let him know and make a deal to run to the last hill, walk it, and then sprint to the finish. Paul agrees, but doesn't think he can sprint it in. But nonetheless, he sees the end in sight and picks the pace up for a strong finish. We crossed the line at 55:41 for about a five-minute PR for Paul.

I had no issues with my ankle throughout the race, despite spending 10+ hours on a plane and an additional 3 on a bus the day before. (It was supposed to be five total on a plane, but storms in Chicago changed all that.) Paul's shin splits held up well as well. All in all, a good day.

Couple of things that I forgot about. 1) It was wicked windy with quite a chill. 2) Just after the three mile mark at the turnaround, we noticed a member of the band running along. But it just wasn't any band member, it was a tuba player. And he was carrying his tuba! I turned to Paul and asked if he was going to be beat by the guy running with his tuba. He decidedly said no.

Time again for the annual JMM Alumni Meet. Talking with my coach friend and classmate about how old we're getting, he asked what made us feel older: the fact that this is our 13th meet as an alumni, or the fact that the youngest kids I coached in high school are now alumni. Age aside, these meets have enough meaning, that if you haven't kept yourself in shape, you tend to pull yourself out to prevent embarrassment. Even us older guys try to keep in shape, and I consider this an important meet every year. In the build up since October, I had some excellent training sessions, showing some speed that got me psyched.

Every year I swim the 500-yard freestyle with the junior varsity. I swam sprints in high school, but because I know of no triathlons with a 50-yard swim leg, I've concentrated on the longest swim available to me. The toughest part of the meet for me is the warm up. The 500 is deep into the meet, usually an hour or more after the start. There is a ten-minute break two events before, so I got really loose during the formal warm-up and got back in for a few 100-yard strong swims at the break. I actually felt strong at the end of the break.

Behind the blocks, my junior varsity competition looked like they were fifth grade. Last year, every one smoked me by twenty seconds. I expected the same this year, so I tried to keep within myself and swim my own race. Jason said to follow my "easy speed," the speed based on adrenaline at the start of a race. The plan was to maintain a nice even pace and start to kick and ramp things up for the last seven lengths. Numerically, the goal was to open with 1:05 for the first 100 and follow up with 1:07s to finish around 5:35. Jeremy agreed to count and would keep me on pace if he could help it.

The start was quick and I was up and feeling good right away. To my surprise, I was out in front, scaring me that I was going too fast and would eventually blow up. After the first 100, Jeremy signaled to me that I went out in a 1:04. That and the thought of going out in front of everyone still was in the back of my head, so I dialed it back. I held that for the next 250 and then kicked it in when I saw the 13 on the lap counter. I built up the effort the rest of the way in. At the flip at 375, my arms were into some serious lactic build up. Mentally, this is where I tend to relax in workouts, giving into the pain. I pushed off the wall, breaking through the mental walls that have grown in my head. One lap later, the starter's pistol shot off over the leader's (my) lane, shocking the crowd and reminding me that I have two lengths to go. One more 50 and I kicked hard, finally seeing the double orange. One final turn, and I pushed toward the last wall and a finish.

I got a nice round of applause from the crowd and was overwhelmed to see 5:19 on the wall. Except that wasn't my time. It was the 450 split of the lane next to me. I double checked the clock and saw my time of 5:36.22. I was still very pleased with that. It's a four-second PR of my "adult" career and nice confirmation of consistency and hard work. (For comparison's sake, a senior won the varsity race in 4:43.

Looking at the video (posted to YouTube soon) and taking splits, I dropped back too much on the 2nd and 3rd 100. But I finished strong and met my goal times. A nice way to finish a direction-less 2007. On to 2008.

Here's how my splits broke down:

And here's the video proof:

There was one goal left to cross off my list for 2007: a sub 20:00 5K run. I surpassed my 10K goal much earlier than expected in May and nearly went sub 2:30 for an Olympic distance triathlon in June. I faded in training after July's WIBA, Pewaukee sprint and final aquathons, only to salvage one final age group win bouncing back after my first DNF.

A sub-20 5K is a Big Deal. It is the hardest of my 2007 goals to meet. Following my last triathlon race, I started concentrating on running following Runner's World's Turkey Trot 5K PR training guide. Everything was going swell. I was running four to five times a week and noticing improvements as the sun rose later and later each morning. With about a month to go, my shins really started fighting back during and especially after workouts. Too much running? Too little rest? Shoes too old? It was probably a combination of all three. So I reacted to all three. I took a week off from running, took a full day off between workouts and bought new shoes. By the time I got all of that all sorted out, I had two weeks left before Thanksgiving. Not necessarily where I wanted to be training-wise. My week off ended up being the peak week of the training plan with the most hills, host descend repeats, and longest hard runs. I knew that would come back to haunt me.

Thanksgiving was to be a bit chilly. Two inches of snow fell the day before. The streets, too warm for the snow to stick to, were icy where the water didn't evaporate. I got to the race site early on purpose and used a coffee shop's bathroom because I was afraid of my booty sticking to the porta-potty's seat in the cold. I warmed up on the course for about a half-hour, trying to time it so that I wouldn't cool down too much before the race start. It wasn't the cold that would by painful, but the wind. The out and back course set up the wind to be in your face to the finish. It was a good reminder of the hills in the final mile; a short steep one, a long steady one, and a molehill that hurts just enough to interrupt the finishing kick.

They had the 5K runners group together away from the start to let the 10K runners go first. I was right there, three rows deep, turned around to see if I knew anyone, and there's X! We chatted about stupid stuff and danced around to keep warm. When it came time to move to the actual start line, I found myself too far back in the crowd with no room to move forward.

Right out of the gate, I got boxed in. I nearly had to throw some elbows to get out of the box. Once out, I settled into a nice groove, pushing the envelope of my comfortable speed limit. I passed the first mile mark slightly behind schedule, owing it to the poor start. Another half mile, and we turned around into the wind and hills. Mile 2 went by quicker than I expected. I purposely didn't look at my watch, so I had no idea that it was slow. The only thing I knew was that I was starting to suffer.

"Seven more minutes, only seven more minutes. I can do seven more minutes." Then I hit the first hill on the return home.

I made my way around the so-called roundabout and took the straightest path from tangent to tangent. With that hill crested, it was a quick dip and then up the second; a long steady climb. At the top, the trees cleared, and the wind picked up right in my face.

"This is is your wall. Break through. Break through your wall. Run!"

I was rubber from the waist down. Nothing reacted. And then, I remembered what Joe Bator said about running a 5K,

"When you think you are about to blow up start using your arms. They will be hanging by your side. Pump them. Pull with them."

"My arms! I have arms! That's right! I have arms! Use them!"

And so I did. I pumped and pumped. I pumped so much that the last hill was turned into a bump. I made the final turn and picked out people that passed me. Joe said to imagine that they're the last person to go under 20 min. Pass them. And I did. Then I there was another. And I passed them. Then, I saw the clock. The first digit told the whole story: it was a two. Guh. Not the 19-something I'd hoped for.

My watched stopped at 20:59. The chip time was 21:04. One stinking minute. I keep thinking about that final mile and what could've gone different. It wasn't in the final mile but rather in the month before with sore shins and old shoes. Bottom line, I'm okay with this. It's still a forty-five second PR from what I can tell. (And on the same course no less.) And I don't have shin splints or a stress fracture, so that leaves all winter to train and get ready for 2008.

Data: 75/1639 Overall | 5/68 M 30-34 | 68/779 Males

Route:

Mile Splits:

I signed up for this race immediately returning from my recent DNF as I was looking for positive closure on my 2007 tri season. The race closed shortly after I signed up and after some reconnaissance, my chances for a high finish seemed pretty good. I was psyched to have a good day.

After the cold weather and poor equipment last race, this had neither. It was really nice for this time of the year; warm temps, sunny skies with a bit of wind. The format has 18 swimmers per wave in a 6-lane pool for a 500-yard swim, followed by a 13.7 mile bike ride, finished off with a 5K cross country run.

SWIM
I was in wave 9 with the other 'fast' swimmers. I was the "C" swimmer in the fastest lane. The "A" swimmer was on a relay and expected to go 5:20, the "B" swimmer wanted to go around 5:45, the same as me. After the first 100, I could see that I split a 1:05, a touch on the fast side. By 150, I was on the "B" (AKA Jennifer) swimmers feet. I stayed with her for a 50, hoping to draft, but she wasn't keeping pace so we managed to arrange a pass without stopping. The "A" swimmer was way ahead, and ended up passing me at the 350. I got to draft of him before he was done, so that was nice. I ended up with a 6:04, which includes the time to hop out of the pool and run outside, so I probably split a 5:50 or so for the 500.

T1
A goal for next year is to get used to biking and running without socks. I lost about three spots fiddling with them in transition. Maybe some triathlon-specific shoes, too.

BIKE
The pre-race meeting warned of "new pavement" on the bike course. They cleared "as much gravel as they could," but it was still sketchy in some spots. "New pavement" to my civil engineering mind is smooth, bump-free, fresh asphalt. Apparently, "new pavement" can also mean chip-sealed gravel, where they pour tar on the roadway and cover it with pea-sized gravel and then compact it with rollers. The result is a fresh surface that extends the life of the roadway. However, it's not the smooth surface I was expecting.

Although I beat her by 25 seconds out of the water, Jennifer had a faster transition and lead the way out. Now she was my rabbit. At the start, she absolutely flew with the wind. But, once we turned and there were some hills, I made some gains and the gap shrunk. After the final turn down the long and windy homestretch, I started to reel her in. She held on and we entered transition at the same time.

The 30mph wind gusts on the course challenged not only me, but especially those on mountain and comfort bikes. The entire two miles back to transition was directly into the wind. Many newbies didn't have aero or even drop bars, and their body turned into big sails. I yelled "Keep cranking!" to those I passed, but I don't know if they could hear me. I finished the 13.7 mile course in about 39 minutes including T1, good for tenth best overall.

T2
Nearly left with helmet on. Jennifer again lead the way out ten feet in front of me.

RUN
This is a tough run course. Continuously undulating, it's really fun to run. Jennifer led me out to a 7:22 first mile. And then we hit the woods and she was gone. Lots of tight turns made it hard to see far ahead, and my pace slowed as a result. Running through the woods and over boardwalks, I tried to hit all the tangents to keep the course as short as possible. On the final hill, I had to take a short walk break. I hated to do it, but it really helped. Once at the top, I finished strong. It felt good to actually cross the finish line. I ran the hilly 5K CC course in 24:55, which includes T2. Good enough for 10th best overall.

SUMMARY
I finished the course in 1:10:25 for 7th overall and 1st in my age group. Though it wasn't a highly competitive race, it was good to earn the gold medal. My first in triathlon. And to top it off, I won a 1,000,000 candle power, hand held, rechargeable spotlight in the post-race raffle. I have not a clue what to use it for.

After perfect weather for Ironman Wisconsin, the rest of the week went downhill in a hurry. Monday was rainy and cool, eerily similar to September 10, 2006. Thursday was the lone bright spot with sunny skies and mid-70s for highs. Then the front blew through. Friday was cool. Friday night was even cooler. The forecast was 32 degrees. Frost warnings were out and plants were to be covered or hidden in the garage. With a race start at 8 AM, I expected temps to be in the low 40s. As a result, my focus was on my apparel for the race. I spent most of the Friday evening worrying about which top I should wear for the bike. Heavy and thick or thin and lightweight? Do I wear gloves? A hat under the helmet? An ice scraper to chip the ice off my bike? I decided that I should bring everything and make a lot of race-time decisions. I spent so much time on what to wear, I didn't leave enough time to properly inspect my bike.

The alarm went off at 5 AM. "It's race day!" I got up, got dressed and had a quick bite to eat. Loaded the heavy transition bag, bike and bike pump in the car and set off for Devil's Lake. The thermometer at the house said it was 42. All the banks on the way up to the race said 35. Fog filled every valley, growing thicker and thicker as I neared the Wisconsin River valley. My stomach did little leaps as I saw more cars with bikes as I neared the race site. On the far side of river, the fog was still heavy, but now the ground was covered in a thick frost. The last bank showed 34 as the current temp. "Heavy. Definitely wear the heavy top," I told myself.

I parked the car in a perfect spot, unloaded the bike, pumped the tires, not really noticing that the rear tube was at 40 psi when I started. I rolled into transition, found a spot on the elite racks. After multiple races of competing with the elites from the age group waves, I decided to join them and push myself a bit to stick with them. I checked in, received race bib number 2, and stopped briefly by the fire that had been lit. I made my way back to the elite racks, pulled out my thickest layers. I set out for a quick, light jog to pass the time. When I got back, we traded layering strategies in transition. Some were going with leggings, others just shorts. All were going with long sleeves up top. I got antsy, finalized my gear, pulled on my wetsuit and got out of there.

I put my feet in the lake to keep them warm. Rumor was it was 70 the day before, but with the amount of evaporation that was occurring right in front of my eyes, it was definitely in the upper 60s, but still thirty degrees warmer than the air. Then it was time to race.

SWIM
The horn blew and everyone ran into the water. Everyone started to swim right away. I didn't have room to dive, so I kept running until I found the right spot and took the plunge. Immediately I couldn't breathe. Even though it was thirty degrees warmer than the air, at the same time the water was thirty degrees colder than my body. It took several breaths and lots of calming thoughts to get myself under control and used to the water. By the time I did, I was in the think of things. All of us hit the first turn at the same time. The course is an rectangular course with two left turns. When you're on the north shore of a lake, turning left means turning to the east, directly into the rising sun. The sun, combined with the fog/steam rising off the lake provided no buoy to sight. So I just headed for the glare off the cars in the parking lot beyond the lake. By now there were two of us in front. He kept fading to the left, while I maintained my line to the cars. Finally, with ten feet to spare, the buoy eclipsed the sun and I turned underneath it and headed to shore. I swam until my fingers dragged through the sand, got up and ran to the shore. The cheering crowd felt really good.

T1
Several people were right behind me and we all madly began to thrown on layers. "Man this stuff is hard to put on wet!" I threw my jacket, socks, shoes and gloves on and tore off as fast as possible. Lots of long transitions from everyone.

BIKE
I was barely out of transition when I felt my back rim bottom out on the first bump. A quick look down and it's half deflated. I don't know if it was because I was frozen or dumb, but I kept going. "Get up the first hill and change it at the top," I reasoned. Well, the first hill is 1.5 miles long. Pedaling with half a tire on the back up a 1.5 mile long hill in 35 degree weather with a wet body is like pulling a stubborn mule through molasses. However, I did manage to pass a couple of people with my "spin to win" mantra. Finally, at the top, it was time to see how fast I could quickly change a tube. I was confident I could manage a quick change and still pull off a good race. I pulled off the rear wheel, deflated the tube the rest of the way, and went to pinch the tire to loosen it from the rim. Only it wouldn't pinch. It was stuck to the inside of the rim. My cold hands couldn't budge it. I'd get some spots, and think I was good to go only to not get anywhere. I reached for my tire irons to see if they'd help. I stuck them in, and pulled them around, only for them to get thrown out of the groove by the sticky tire. By now, five minutes had gone by, and my hamstrings are tightening up as I'm bending over my uncooperative rim, swearing at it between breaths. Finally, I get the tire unstuck all the way around on one side to get the old tube out. I blew up the new one to give it some shape and stuff it in. I double checked it wasn't pinched and then started pumping furiously. I lost track of time spent at this point, but it was well over 15 minutes. Later waves were passing, some nice enough to offer condolences. After pumping for enough time to fill the tube completely, it was only half full. That's when I heard it. A quiet "psssssssssss" coming from the tube. I first thought I didn't have a tight seal on the pump. I redid it and kept pumping. "Pssssssssss." F#(@*! I double checked the valve and started again. "Pssssssssss." I put my ear up close and it emanated from somewhere other than the valve. At this point, I was getting cold again and felt as deflated as my two broken tubes. I put the wheel back on the bike and began the walk of shame back to the transition area. My race was done. As I got back to the bottom of the hill, the leaders were already finishing their rides. As I made my way along the access road, they started their run. I was just at my stuff in transition when the winner finished. A few minutes later and it would've been my turn.

POST-RACE
As I handed my timing chip in, the woman said "All that cold and wet for nothing, huh?" I grunted agreement and shuffled off. For the whole ride home, I thought she was right. As I was bumming in the stands of the Badger Football game, it took my wife to set me straight. (Don't they all?) Indirectly, she made me realize that it's only a failure if you don't learn anything. Here's what I learned:

1. I had the correct clothing for the conditions.
2. I failed to inspect my equipment properly before the race. (biggest lesson of the bunch)
3. I rode on a tire that had been on the trainer. My hypothesis is that the tire got heated enough on the trainer to melt to the rim. The heat more than likely contributed to the failure of the tube.
4. Change your tire as soon as possible.
5. Stay calm and relax while changing a tire.
6. Learn how to use CO₂ cartridges.

So what else is there to do? For me, I signed up for one more race to redeem the ending of this season. I will get two new tires and look into a CO₂ system. Now I have some drive: that nagging feeling failure and embarrassment every time someone asks how my race went.

To put things in final perspective, my race failure compares to nothing of the pain that the family of one athlete is going through right now; A 55 year-old man lost his life at the race.

Not much pre-race activity, so we'll get right to the action.

SWIM
Previous races required dolphin dives out about 100 yards out before you could swim comfortably. With the record 15 inches of rain in August, the lake was really high. Now it was a short run and a dive to get swimming; much more my style. Another twist was the crowd at the front. Normally it's me and one other leading the pack. Tonight there were four total. I followed the feet of probably the most crooked swimmer ever. So much so I couldn't figure out if he was doing it purpose. After the half way point, I gave up following and took the lead. There were still four of us in front. Around the final turn, I lengthened my stroke and noticed the others falling behind. For the third time in four races, I was first out of the water. But this time, it was my slowest time yet at 11:26.

RUN
The other three who finished with me took off leaving me behind. I kept my pace purposely slow to see if I wouldn't die as bad as the last race. I felt good about three-quarters into the first mile, so I turned it up. I still got passed, but there were a lot more women among those flying by. At the turn, I saw two men among the women, and set a goal to hold them off as long as possible. I held them off until the lone hill on the course, about a half mile from the finish and felt good about that. I finished with a surprisingly slow split of 23:50. I felt faster than that.

EPILOGUE
I finished sixteenth overall and third in my age group for this race. According to my stats, that gives me enough series points to earn second place for my age group. It didn't help that I really fell out of shape through July and put on about ten pounds. But, there's a wall in front of me. I kind of scratched at it tonight, but there's a lot of work left to do to break through. I feel like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption. I just discovered that the wall is giving way, but there's a twenty more feet to dig through. Then there's the matter of climbing through the sewer to put it all together.

[Thanks to Karl for the great shots.]

Since the WIBA weekend four weeks ago (when I squeezed eleven and a half hours of training in three days,) I've exercised a total of nine hours and fifty minutes. Two hours and twenty minutes of that has been in races. That leaves seven and a half hours of actual training hours. Most of those have been running, but inconsistent and irregular. I am inundated at work, and unfortunately, training has taken a back seat. How much this hurts I would fully realize at the end of Aquathon #4.

Before the race, there was a lot of discussion on the use of wetsuits. The very humid conditions and mid-80s conditions made it a dicey call. But, since it's a laid back race, there was no hard and fast rule on what water temperature prevented you from wearing one. Many people decided to utilize the advantage and wear one. My main swim competitor didn't. I wore mine. I later regretted doing so.

SWIM
The swim was warm. I was out of the water first and quite surprised to have no one breathing down my neck. I quickly took off the wetsuit and stuffed my feet into my socks and then shoes. I left with my Forerunner in hand. It read 180+ heart rate. Hmmm....

RUN
I didn't get passed until going up the hill. So for approximately one minute, I was leading the run. Random people that just happened upon the event actually cheered for me. My first, but hopefully not last, time. The good times were short lived. My heart rate never dropped despite my best efforts to calm down and just run. As the miles wore on, I never recovered from the heat of the swim and wetsuit. I dropped all the way to fifteenth overall and was a full 1:30 slower on my run. I was sucking wind coming to the finish line. Fans (okay, my wife and her friend) said that I did not look happy. I saw stars and really had a hard time breathing at the end. I stood under the hose and sucked in as much liquid as possible.

I hope that I can run more before the next race, but it doesn't look good. A full week on vacation, with a very busy work schedule after that is going to make it tought. Add to that the loss of swim facilities. There's a good chance I will show up at the next race with no more training that I have right now. Bring on the pain.

I was originally going to miss Aquathon #2 because work-related travels. Then, it was rescheduled to July 8 due to weather. Sweet! I can go. But, in the end, I skipped it because of WIBA and the really hot day. I kinda regretted it because I missed out on an opportunity to pick up some series points, but on the other hand, I would've sucked. So the best spot for me was on my couch. So now Auqathon #3 rolls around, four days after my last race in Pewaukee. Work was really beating me up, so I had only run in the four days between the races. Some call it lazy. I called it a taper.

I set off to the course with my new race shoes (Asics DS Trainers) in tow. I'm scanning the transition zone and don't see the top swimmers there. (Score!) The wind was very calm, so the lake was friendly and the temperature perfect. I see John and offer some tips. He was excited and nervous for his first multisport race. (He raced really well and overcame some swimming demons. He admitted to me after that he's hooked and ready for his first tri.) I warm-up, recognize some other faces and say hello, and line up for the swim.

SWIM
And just like that we're off. No build-up, just a five second count and an audible, "GO!" I run as far as I could, follow-up with a couple dolphin dives and then start swimming. On my last dive, I didn't tuck my head and both goggles filled with water. Mostly blind, I could see just well enough to see the kayak leading us out. I hoped he was going to keep a straight line. As I thought, I was out first and leading the pack. I tried to keep my strokes long and breath to both sides. The water-filled goggles lead to some anxiety. But worse, they really screwed with my peripheral vision. I kept seeing arms next to me, like I was surrounded by swimmers. But really, it was the optics of the water refracting my arms into my field of view. At the first buoy, I emptied the goggles. So I went to from not being able to see because of water to not being able to see because of fog. "Oh well, just keep an eye on the kayak," I said to myself. Only after halfway back on the last leg of the course did my goggles clear. Either that or my contact slid back into it's proper spot. I finished and ran out of the water first, with a slightly slowish time of 11:10 for the 1000 meters. (I went 10:57 drafting in the first Aquathon.)

RUN
A relay ream passed me in transition, so I was second out on the run course. And it took nearly a half-mile for the fast runners to pass me. First it was just one, and then another. I held off the rest until just about half-way. On the way back only one woman passed me. Up the last hill, I didn't think anyone was too close. But on the homestretch, I could hear footfalls gaining, so I gave it all I could and finished five seconds in front of eighth place. Good thing, too, as he was in my age group. I split a 23:10 or something, and ended up four seconds slower overall from #1.

I still like my new shoes. They're light and fast. Now that I look the part, it's time to start acting like I belong. I need to take my run out. I can make it to the end, but I need to build on my swim lead to stay in front as long as possible.

In the end, I got first in my age group and seventh overall. With only two of three races completed in the series, I'm in six place in my age group. (Only the best 4 of the 5 races are counted.) If you take points only from two best races for everyone, then I'm in second place. I need to continue placing well and hopefully I'll come away with some hardware.

Pewaukee Triathlon
July 15, 2007

1/4 mi S / 16.4 mi B / 3.1 mi R

Executive Summary:
Swim, 5:19: had to sight every stroke on way out to not hit others
Bike, 41:29: wicked crowded course, yelled at nearly everyone to get right; possibly shorter than advertised.
Run, 22:48: felt great, kept it at slightly uncomfortable tempo run; should've stuck with guy from wave.
Total: 1:12:52, 4th in AG. Frustrated that swim was most disappointing part of day.

Detailed Story:
(This first part is basically a rant. If you don't want to read my complaints, you can skip to the swim section below.)

This race was organized by Midwest Sports Events, a part of their "five-star series." Throughout the day I thought, "five stars" -- yeah, right.

I rearranged my race schedule to host several folks for a large volume training on the Ironman Wisconsin course the previous weekend. This one fit nicely and according to the previous results, was fast and competitive. I signed up and had a buddy do the same to get into the same wave. The consequences of assigning waves according to the order in which you signed up didn't hit me then. I just thought it would be cool to directly compete with a friend. The impact of this wave assignment would literally hit my in the face later on.

I checked in on Saturday and found out I was in wave 24 of 31. At 50 people per wave, that puts the total athlete count at 1600+, 1200 of which would be on the course before me. Waves were scheduled to leave every two and a half minutes. Transition closed with the first wave departure at 6:30 AM. Transition didn't reopen until 9:45 AM.

At the site, the racks were assigned by wave. Nothing new here. However, the transition area was shoehorned in a parking lot between a very active rail line and several shops. This provided limited access. Thus, all the entry and exit points were on the same side of transition. The first wave were rewarded with racks there the entry points. So, if you were in a late wave like me, you had a lot more ground to cover. The racks them selves were also lacking quality. They were about six inches too short. In order to get my bike to stay up, I had to hook my brake levers over the bar. I don't like doing so. In a hurry you have a tendency to pull the bike back more than up. You can easily pull over an entire rack of bikes with enough force. Others with mountain bikes had even tougher luck. I saw one guy that didn't have the vertical brakes to hook on the bar. And his seat was too high to fit under the bar. So, he decided that his only option was to remove his rear wheel and hook the nose of his seat over the bar from behind. The wheel leaned up against the bike. I didn't see how the setup would work out.

The other implication of the site layout was lack of spectator access. There was no path along the shore along the main part of the race course. The official map said there was a path around the transition, behind the buildings and then around them to the sidewalk. Only there was no path. There were roots, leaves and rocks. And if you survived that, there was a wall you had to scramble up and down to get around the buildings. Not very spectator friendly at all.

PRE-RACE
I found my rack in the back of transition and set up. Then I went to get marked and my chip. The body marking volunteers must've lost their voices early on, because nobody could find them, and everyone lined up behind the ones they could see. The rest were on the far side of the chip pickup. Finally people got aggressive and sought out the markers. I got my marks and chip and made a mental note to pack a permanent marker in my transition bag for the next race. As I got marked, I noticed that the swim buoys were set up in a straight line. Hmmm...I guess that's what they mean by an out and back course. That should make it interesting.

I had time to get out for a short warm-up run. I saw and wished Michelle good luck. (She finished 3rd in her AG.) She looked fast and focused and mentioned that the kids race the day before was even more chaotic. Hard to believe, but I heard it from more than one person. I got out of transition by 6:30 and waited to meet my wife. She wouldn't make the assigned spot because of the poor spectator access. As I waited, I spoke with someone that e-mailed the race staff about a waiting list as the race was already closed by the time he found he was to going to be in town. Instead, they signed him right up without hesitation. Apparently the last wave was going to be more than the 50 limit. We watched the waves take off and noticed immediately that the life guards were really busy distributing life preservers and noodles. Some even got out of their kayaks to help people back into shore. I made my way around the spectator route to the start line. I hid my shoes in a bush and made my way to the start. I finally found my wife and showed her my shoes. Then she tells me that they're on wave 20 or something. Better get to the start line.

SWIM
To make up for the late start, they were releasing waves much closer than two and a half minutes. More like every minute. That didn't leave too much of a gap between the back of the wave to the start of the next. Keep in mind that athletes in waves were generally randomly assigned to their wave, so who knows what we were going to get. I toed the front of the line for my wave and licked my goggles clean. A string of kids stood right next to me. Swimmers themselves, I joked that I would have some one to draft. I looked back out a the lake and saw only bodies. And then we were off. I hit the water and dove only once. I took three strong strokes and then looked up. I was already at the back of the previous wave. I would not take a regular breath again. Every stroke was used to sight the next swimmer and made sure I didn't tackle them. There were people everywhere. I weaved my way out to the last buoy and just before Jaws splashed in front of me. Not really. It was a swimmer that made too much of a turn and actually crossed over line separating two directions. He even had two others following him. I grabbed him sent him back to the right side. I started again and made my way around the last buoy. Then I looked directly into the devil's furnace. The sun had just come over the buildings on shore. Shore? What shore? All I saw was sun. I couldn't keep the same course and avoid swimmers like I did on the way out, so I went to the left and used the guard boats as a guide. I still sighted more often than usual and passed many folks sidestroking, breaststroking and floating with life preservers back to shore. I finally grabbed sand and ran to the next county to retrieve my bike.

T1
I found my rack and was surprised to see the youngest of the swim pack there. I had a nice transition without a wetsuit to worry about. The others swimmer kids showed up and talked about who was drying off. Drying off? Talking? Who's got time to do that? Meanwhile, I grabbed my helmet and got my bike out quickly. I ran back to race site, did the flying two-legged leap on the bike, clipped in, and stormed out of the area, passing people like they were standing still.

BIKE
I had pre-rode the course the previous week, so I knew it was a course that I could hammer and take no prisoners. My original goal was to be average above 20mph, but with the weak wind, I wanted to see how fast I could go. Run be damned, this one is about the bike. Up the first rolling hill, I took the gel I didn't have time to before the race and got going. There were people everywhere. "ON YOUR LEFT, Keep to the right" would become my new mantra out of necessity. I called it the 'Tour de France effect' because everyone thought the course was closed. Several people were riding all the way out to the yellow line with no one on their right. I can't tell you how many people I passed, but I'm guessing it was more than half the field.

To continue the poor race organization, we passed through a four-way stop controlled intersection that had no police control. Many people were zipping through like they owned the course. I slowed to make sure there were no competing cars and continued. That's when I got passed for the first and only time. It was by a car. At the next turn, the car followed the race course down the hill. Around the turn I went to see the car held up by to guys riding the middle of the lane. I took advantage of the hill and started gaining speed. I realized the guys weren't going to move right and yield to the car, so I made my way to the right and passed them all. The no-hitter was in tact and would remain that way until the run.

Continuing the clockwise course, I made the big turn to head back towards transition and had some wind at my back. One last minor bump and I'm on the far side and suddenly dismounting and running back into the next county to my stuff.

T2
I racked the bike on the empty bar and changed into my new racing shoes and was gone. Had to be my fastest transition ever. My wife even said so. Sweet. I'm starting to get the hang of this stuff.

Run
I held the pace down for the first mile. There was one hill to worry about and then it was gently rolling from there on in. After I made it up, I bypassed the first water station and started get into a groove. One more turn and then the first person to pass me just happened to be from my wave. I had a brief thought to stay with him and maintain the shutout, but I hesitated and he was gone. Second lesson: Never hesitate in a sprint race. At mile two, I was feeling really good, and turned the jets on. It was mostly downhill, and I maintained a nice, uncomfortably fast pace. I even passed other runners and received encouragement. That never happens. I'm usually handing out the encouragement. I got some cheers at the finish line and really felt good on this one.

Post-race
All-in-all, a really good race for me. Having the swim be the worst part of the day is frustrating, but knowing that I can push the bike and still have a good run is encouraging. I did hear that it was a new run course and a touch on the long side. I think my split is the fastest I've run in a tri, so for it to be long is a bonus. (It did feel faster than a 22:48.) The sour note was that I got fourth in my age group. Third was in an 'elite' wave and received premium rack placement in transition. The minute he beat me by was about the same time that our transition times differed. Put me on his rack and in his wave with a clear course and we're neck and neck competing for hardware. The biggest lesson that I learned this race is that I am competitive. For this area, I can consider myself part of the elite class. I just have to ask for it.

Many others will write better reports than I, but I had a great time training with everyone. Thanks to all who came and made the weekend a pleasure.

Friday kicked off with a CycleOps PowerTap Clinic that kicked me in the pants. Who knew that we'd establish our power threshold and then test it for several intervals? Oops. Looks like my ego got the best of me. I sweated through my shirt in the first ten minutes creating issues of reading my display. The clinic was fun, and Angie was a great instructor. Then it was off to Lake Monona for a quick dip. The weather was warm and I was still hot from the clinic, so I opted to go without a wetsuit. (Special thanks to Jennifer for loaning me a pair of goggles!) I stuck with Mike and we swam about a mile total in what was for me a leisurely pace. It was fun to be out in the lake again.

After the swim some went out for a run. I didn't. I went home and gathered everything for the dinner: Hammer Nutrition supplied five boxes worth of nutrition. Multiple tubs of Heed, Endurolytes, Perpetuem, and Recoverite for support throughout the weekend, along with 50 gels, coin purses (for the Endurolytes), bags and catalogs to hand out to everyone.

I headed to Tutto Pasta Cucina Italiana (on King St.) for the Welcome! dinner. We filled our initial reservation of 20 really quickly. People just kept on showing up. We eventually topped out around 60. I enjoyed talking with Bob, Erin, and Eric and his Bloomington crew. The staff were more than accommodating and did a great job taking care of everyone. I heard no complaints. I got to bed around 11 that night, slightly nervous about the big Saturday.

Saturday dawned HOT. Forecasts of 90° with humidity and high winds. Eerily similar to condtions when I did the Ironman in 2005. (Note: 2005 is now referred to as "the hot year." The 2006 version, when temps were in the 60s and rainy is referred to as "the cold year.") I felt like it was race morning, but it wasn't. Very odd.

I got to the lake and there were two large groups that went swimming for about an hour. We competed for space with the Madison Ski Team. We explained our presence and agreed to accommodate each other. Though there was some close calls, everyone made it to shore safe.

Most of the group, approximately 70 riders took off from the Monona Terrace set either for a 72 mile single loop course, or the whole 112 mile two-loop course.

I was set to lead the third group on the two-lap only route of the course, starting in Verona. Scott from BMC bikes drove the team car to Madison to help with the bike portion of the day. I passed over all the Hammer Nutrition to him and lead him out to Verona. Once out at Fireman's Park, I met up with Raina, Sarah and Bob. Peter was eager to meet up with a group so he tagged along with us. The five of us set out into heat, wind and hills of the driftless southwest of Wisconsin.

We all held a good pace, enjoying the scenery. I haven't been out on the course in a long time and I forgot how striking the views are. We did our best to stay hydrated, stopping at all the Kwik Trips to refuel. The gas station/convenience stores were abuzz with regular customers and us cyclists out on the course. Gallons of water were shared amongst the groups, and Gatorade was flying out of the fridges. By rule the checkout attendants ask all customers if they've purchased fuel. Many riders simply stared blankly in return, with their sunglasses tucked upside down in their bike helmets, sweat dripping from their eyebrows, as they hand damp bills to pay the goods. I chuckled and offered "You're lookin' at it."

At the end of the first loop, we met up with Scott and his squirt gun. The heat got to Sarah. Her arm was on the mend from an earlier bike crash and she wisely didn't want to push it. Bob decided to join her on a run. Raina took off for her next loop and I waited to see others as they stopped. Peter arrived from getting his spokes checked at the shop and we went out for a second loop.

Now in the early afternoon hours, the sun cooked down and the wind blew, but I felt good. Today I tried the Enduralytes for the first time and found myself extra perky at the start of the second loop. Sure, part of the ride was with the wind, but I didn't feel sluggish during the parts that weren't. I even had to pee between pit stops. A good sign on a dehydrating day. Although it might have been a mistake, we skipped the second rest stop in Cross Plains. However, the good people at the top of Timber Road hill put a simple sign saying "WATER" with an arrow pointing into their front yard. There, a hose was resting simply on a stake. In my mind, it looked like an oasis that you see in movies where the guy is struggling through the desert heat only to be tricked into seeing palm trees and lush greenery. Only this was real! Quite possible the most refreshing, coldest water my lips have ever touched. I whispered thanks to the owners and promised to send a thank you card.

Peter and I worked our way back to Verona, cooled down and saw some more WIBA folks finish. I waited for IronWil and finally made contact when she was in Cross Plains. While still fresh and most likely able to continue, time was of the essence and I went to pick her up. After some lively conversation, I dropped her off and made it to my house at 6:38. I was showered, dressed and back in my car on the way to the Great Dane at 6:46. Fastest transition I've ever done.

The Great Dane accommodated an extra ten people and dinner went smoothly. You could hear great conversations between new friends and stories shared between old ones. By the time all the schwag was handed out, it was 10:30 before I got home. I fell into bed with two fans blowing cold, conditioned air on my body.

Sunday started just as hot. People limbered in slowly to the run start. I gave a brief review of the transition process and about 30 of us headed out to run the course. Simply Stu lead us around on his bike while I provided commentary and factoids about the buildings as we ran through campus. We reached the 6-mile point on State Street and rested. I intended on stopping there, but I decided to continue to complete the mega training weekend. There were five of us that finished the entire course (with some adjustments to stop for water). It was a nice two-hour run. I was soaked with sweat, but still beaming from the strength that remained in my legs.

I showered and changed to head out to Endurance House for the foot strike analysis and bike clinic. Jamie had opened up the store for just us on Sunday morning and was awesome at helping lots of people sort through shoes fit issues. He said my feet don't pronate as much as I thought. I might be able to try out some race shoes, rather than run in the tanks that I normally wear. I promised Jamie I'd be back to discuss some it further. Scott gave a quick run down on bike packing and cleaning tips and then everyone started to make their way home.

Thanks for a successful weekend. Everyone was energized, friendly and accommodating to our on-the-fly adjustments. Thanks to IronWil for her planning and ideas, Simply Stu for his energy and support, Scott and BMC for support in Fireman's Park in the hot sun, Hammer Nutrition for the products, Tricia and Snickers MarathoN (my new favorite), Mike Ricci and D3 Multisport, Bob, Sarah, and Raina for making my bike ride more enjoyable, TaconiteBoy, Jeff, Dave and Amy for listening to my babbling on the run, and everyone else that attended.

I've already started mulling over ideas for next year. If you've got some suggestions or recommendations, please send us a note: wibainfo (SHIFT+2) gmail (DOT) com

I love waking up in the morning and knowing it's race day. I even wake my wife up excitedly whispering, "It's Race Day!" She usually rolls over, hits the snooze and wishes she hadn't agreed to wake up at o-dark thirty to cheer me on.

Sunday it was the Wisconsin Triterium Triathlon, Wisconsin's entry into the Best of the US for the Olympic distance, and the Badger State Games triathlon competition for the sprint distance. That makes for lots of fast triathletes competing in both distances. I did this the sprint course at this race two years ago as my first triathlon ever. I finished third in my age group then, so I figured it was a good venue to do my first olympic distance triathlon. I got a touch nervous heading into the weekend. I was unsure about nutrition and pacing. The inexperience and the in-between distance made it hard for me to gauge just how hard to go.

PRE-RACE
For breakfast, I ate a English muffin and Rick's 40/30/30 bar on the way out the door. On the way there I sipped a bottle of Gatorade, and I ate one gel about 20 minutes before my wave. Throughout the transition set-up, I saw lots of friendly faces, including those that I taught and coached how to swim. (I'm getting old.) I also recognized lots of faces of competitors. All the talking meant that I didn't get the warm-up I really wanted, but the 75-degree humid morning wasn't necessarily keeping me cold, either.

SWIM
I started in the front right next to the same guy I drafted behind in the Aquathon. Like locomotives, three of us sprinted the straight away to the first turn. We got there together and set up our own three person train. I was the caboose. We stuck together for the rest of the lap. Then, for my first time ever, I had to get out of the water and run around a tree. It was like I didn't feel my legs at all while running, only to have them ache when I started swimming again. Totally weird.

Back into the water the leader was off the front so I continued to draft the entire second lap. Surprisingly, I got more beat up in this race than in any other. I think it was because I was the caboose in a train of two. The full contingent of the olympic racers were now in the water and it got a little crowded. (Think of the mad rush for the early bird deals the day after Thanksgiving.) As swimmers got passed by our engine, they got startled, stopped, took a breaststroke kick, and then promptly took their frustration out on me. I tried very hard not to kick as they slid down the back of my legs. Thankfully, no one grabbed on. When I had time to think about it, I tried to concentrate on my stroke. Unfortunately, that put me right into the feet of the engine, so I concentrated on following his bubbles instead.

I don't know what happened at the start of the third lap, but as soon as our train hit the water, the engine slowed. way. down. I figured it was my turn to pull, so I gladly set forth and started to weave my way through other swimmers, thinking the engine and I traded positions. But then I notice that this one guy on my right isn't dropping off like the others are. A quick check, and sure enough! It's the engine! So I pull back into my caboose position and finish the last lap right behind my trusty engine. It was a little slower than I hoped, but I did roughly half the work I would've done had I swam solo. All the more better on such a hot and humid day.

Split: 20:29 (1:15/100y) 3rd OA/AG

T1
In transition, I put on my Forerunner for the first time in a race. I wanted to keep tabs on my heart-rate and record data for review later. It didn't really take any extra time and, aside from a few glitches, well worth it in the end.

BIKE
Prior to the race, I was able to recon the bike course twice: once in the incorrect direction, and then again the right way around. The heavy hitter was the back-to-back-to-back hills on the loop section. They weren't close enough together like the hills on the out/back section to utilize the downhill speed to carry over to the top of the next. And the first empties directly into a 90-degree left hand turn, so there was no riding that one out. In fact, I found it quite helpful not to shift from the climbing gears because of the loss of speed through the turn and the small bump 100 feet later.

I get out to the two-loop section and take my first gel. Not long after, I start burping. Not a good feeling. Someone on TRI-DRS said that if you're burping, you haven't digested it yet. If you fart, then you digested it. I was worried; burping usually means bad things.

The wave structure put only the 45+ females and 50+ males out on the course fifteen minutes ahead of my wave. I'm sure I passed a few racers from that wave on the swim, so that left very few out on the loop section of the course. The out/back is shared with the sprint course and thus spent mostly dodging first timers. With out anyone to pace off of, I kind of put my head down and go. I didn't know it at the time, but it was too hard. My heart rate was well above 160 and stayed there for the entire ride. I never ever have my HR above 160 on any ride. I caught wind of this on the second loop, but it was too little to late. Damage had been done.

Despite all this, I was having fun. I wished everyone that I passed good luck. I was very impressed to see everyone of all ages competing. It gives me hope and drive to continue to train and compete. I passed one volunteer signaling left turn with her hand out stretched. To me, it looked like she wanted a high five. I held my hand out to connect, but she pulled it down before I got there. I "awwwed" my disappointment loudly and she shouted apologies after me. We made sure to connect on the second lap. I even offered to change places with some fans going up another hill. They politely declined. And then, at the top of Observatory hill, just as I got there on the second lap, a guy starts playing the bag pipes. I almost turned around to do the hill again just to hear him play. Almost.

After the third hill of the second loop, it was time to build up speed and head back to transition. I took a slug of water to calm the carb-rich burp factory in my gut and mistimed placing the bottle between pedal strokes. My foot hit the bottle just as it was going back into the cage. Just then I hear a rattling/clicking and figure I bent my cage so that it was catching something. I look down and see it swaying back and forth. ZOINKS! It's loose! Images horrific crashes of equipment and bodily harm passed through my head. What to do? I can't stop, I'm doing really well. Can I keep going? I watched it for a couple of miles, and it seemed to hold. OK; we'll keep going. Then I thought that the extra weight of the bottle and water swinging to and fro didn't help, so I put the bottle into my shirt pocket. It made the rattling louder, but now I could see that both bolts were still there and it should hold until I get back to transition.

Bike: 1:18:32 (19.0 mph), 28th OA

T2
I was pleasantly surprised to see that there were very few bikes in transition. I think I was in 5th place in my wave at this point. I hit the split on the Forerunner to end my bike and start the transition. It immediately freaks and counts like 20 laps on the run and measures some 20,000 miles of distance covered. I must've traveled through a wormhole or something. So much for keeping pace on my run. I nearly shut it off, but noticed it kept the correct overall time.

RUN
As soon as I started the run, the leader passed me on his second lap. And that's when I noticed him going up the hill. No, I thought, "that can't be right. That's the hill for the sprint course, we skip the hill." "No!" I said, "We SKIP THE FRICKIN' HILL. Don't we?" And then he ran, rather sprinted compared to my pace, right up the hill. I unfortunately cannot give you specifics on it, but know that it is the worst realization that you have to run up a hill you thought you didn't. Not only that, but you have to do it once every lap for three laps. I knew I hadn't run enough hills and staring at me in the face was proof. I wanted to call out "MOM!" in my best Paris Hilton impersonation, and I think my legs did just that as I reluctantly turned towards the hill.

And then, there she was. My mom. Almost to the point of embarrassment, she is the best fan on the course any boy could have. She was at the base of the second, smaller, more gentle hill and started yelling and waving as soon as I was in sight. She didn't quit until out of ear shot. It never gets old.

I walked through the water station at the top of the second hill every lap. I was able to put one water down my throat and the second down my back. Like the bike, each lap the course got more and more crowded. There were lots passing me, but it was difficult to ascertain who was ahead of me. I stopped trying to keep track and run my own course. Throughout the run, my Forerunner would beep and record some sort of lap based on some distance. I don't know what it was since it was about 6:40 per lap. Looking back at my pace, I was at around an 8:20/mi or 5:15/km. The 6:40 splits must've been between wormholes.

I definitely took the last lap a little slower than I should have. I finished in pain, but with a little too much juice. My split supports it, too.

Run: 51:37 92nd OA.

Total: 2:33:34, 28/214 OA, 5/28 AG (M 30-34)

And here's me at the finish line. Be sure to click on my nose to get a close up.

I signed up for the entire season's worth of Aquathons (a 1K swim followed by a 5K run), making the commitment to race before softball and other distractions. The first race was suddenly upon me and I was scared. I was scared because it was going to hurt. It hurts because I can't run. I can't run because I grew up swimming. I shouldn't say I can't run, but rather I don't know how to run. I don't know when to go fast or for how long. I never get it right and it always hurts.

I showed up and noticed how many really fast-looking people were there. I did the last one in 2006, which happened to fall the week after Ironman Wisconsin and kept people away. Now I was even more scared. I saw (Simply) Stu (Awesome!) and talked with Clay. He helped me pick out the other fast swimmers as potential drafting targets. According to the scouting report, Mark Harms was the man to follow. I had done some of my own home work and picked out my personal draft target. I started right next to him at the start and made sure to stay next to him into the water. Sure enough, he took it out nice and strong and I was able to hang on to his bubbles and draft nicely. On the top stretch of the triangular swim course, Mark Harms drives past on our left. I try and jump on his feet, but he must've saw me move over. He quickly accelerated away and I moved back to my man's feet. I stayed there until the last stretched and accelerated by him. A jerk move, but I knew he was a wicked fast runner and I couldn't compete. I ran out of the water in second place overall, just two seconds ahead of third.

Transition went well. I thought my socks would slow me down, but it seems the wet feet on the other two were just as time consuming to stuff into our shoes. I left just after the guy I drafted. Mark Harms leaves about ten seconds before us.

The run starts straight out along the road. Long enough to get some speed and the heart rate up. At the first turn you immediately start up a small hill. My heart rate skyrockets and I start to lose control of my breath. I take it easy going down the hill and get passed. I settle into a nice rhythm for the next mile and half. A few more real runners pass me, putting me about 7th place. At the turn around, Stu is not that far behind. I yell for him to come get me and he promises that he will. I also caught a glance from a woman that I knew made me out to be a marked man. She passed me going up the last hill, right after a really, really fast runner passed us both. (He split a 17:45.) Down the hill I took nice small strides and made the final turn towards the finish. You'd think that because it's the last turn, that the finish line isn't far away. But it is. It's painfully far away. Thankfully, the hill took a bit more out of the woman than me. She wasn't too far ahead. I slowly built up speed, drawing her in, careful not too build up too much. I wanted to clip her at the line and not have the reverse occur. I had just enough finishing kick to earn back my spot and finish 8th overall and 4th in my age group (M3039). Stu finished one minute back. Sweet.

If I had worn a watch, I imagine that I ended up negative splitting my run. At least I hope I did. I'll see about wearing a watch for the next one and take some splits. As much as it did hurt, I had fun. I'm looking forward to getting out for most of the races. This is going to scary fun!

Since I learned that my brother planned to run the entire marathon course, I kind of forgot that I had my own race. All I wanted to do was to finish my race as fast as possible so that I could go cheer him on. And it started out that way.

First, we interrupt this report to complain about the race. While waiting for the start, the race director told us to follow the pace car and we wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Too bad it didn't work out that way. At the first turn, the car turned left, and we turned right. See ya, wouldn't want to be ya. Lucky for the leaders, us followers knew the course and brought them back. Then, at the bottom of the hill, the 6K runners were supposed to split and head to the finish line. But no course official was there and the cop blocking the intersection didn't have a clue. Again, we tried to get most of the 6K runners on the right course. The one that finished right behind me, pissed that he ran the whole 10K course, must've missed the split. Other than those mishaps, it was a nice race. Back to the action.

I set my watch to set up a 10K race with 7:15 min/mi splits. That's a final time of 45:03, approximately 3:30 better than my previous PR and right at one of my season goals. I wasn't expecting to go that fast, I just wanted to see what I could do. Down the hill and through the course split, my watch beeped at the first mile: 6:30-something. HOLY FRICKIN' MOLEY! (or something along those lines) I slowed way down. (See the chart below.) My first thought was about how much I just destroyed my race. My next thought was that I now had approximately a 9 second cushion per mile. So now I only have to average under 7:24 min/mi to get that sub-45 goal. This just might be doable. I settle back and just keep my stride for the next few miles.

About mile 5 or so, a woman passed me. Unlike me, she paced the race correctly and looked to have a strong finish. She was perfect for me to follow. I stuck with her for the sixth mile. My key jangled in my pocket and my breathing was hard, loud and heavy. It had to be really annoying. Annoying enough that she kept looking back. After the fourth time, I apologized, "Sorry. I'm still here." At least she laughed.

Once I hit mile 6, I dropped the hammer and finished hard. With the help of my pace setting friend, I knew I had the sub-45, but could I get a sub-44? FOR SURE! With the official time of 43:55, I exceeded a season-long goal by over a minute and a PR of nearly five minutes! In the finish line area, I sought out my pace friend. She had a big smile as I approached and I thanked her for pacing me. I got some food and then took off after my brother at mile 14 of his marathon. And he ended up finishing in 4:07 or so. Big congrats to him!

Post Race
I officially earned fourth place in my age group. But since the overall winner was in my age group, he got removed and I got bumped up to third, eligible for an award. Unfortunately, I didn't realize it until Tuesday morning. (No word yet if I still can get the award.) Update: They're sending my placque! More hardware! Sweet!

The Lake Monona 20K runs around Lake Monona for a total distance of 20 kilometers, or about 12.4 miles. (Duh.) Lake Monona is the second of three lakes in size and order on the Yahara River chain. It is the southern lake along with the larger Lake Mendota that form the infamous Madison isthmus, of which I live on.

I arrived at the race start and met up with my buddy/co-worker Tim. We got our packets, and then headed back to our cars to drop off our warm-up layers and hit the porta-pottie one last time. It was cool, windy and the forecasted rain was going to hold off for the rest of the day. The trick now was to figure which clothing to use to stay warm. I elected for a light long sleeve shirt with shorts, no gloves. Watching everyone warm up, I estimated that at least a third of the crowd were triathletes based on their attire, wearing of race belts/timing chip holders. I overheard several people that attendance was way up from previous years, but based on the results, that's not obvious.

After a brief delay, we started out and I immediately lost Tim. "See you at the finish line" is all I heard. I initially planned on averaging 8 min/mi for a final time around 1:40, thinking that I was going to fade after that pace for over 90 minutes.

Immediately after the start I had to pee. I thought it would fade. It didn't. I reached the first water stop on perfect pace, hoping to see anything resembling a pit stop. Alas, there were none to be found. I quickly scanned my brain for locations along the course that might provide relief, but none were close enough to consider. I guess I'll just hold it and hope that it goes away. (It didn't.)

I hit the halfway mark exactly where I intended to be. I high-fived my wife and asked if she'd gotten my elephant ear (aka a bear claw) f rom the farmer's market yet. (She was going back to get it.) Even though the wind was directly in our face right off the lake, I was feeling extremely good. So, I revised the strategy: I will continue to split 8 min/mile for the next 5K, then drop the hammer for the last 5K and see what time I could pop.

I finally was running the way I should. My Forerunner 305 helped immensely, mainly to prevent me from chasing others ahead of me. While I know I could stay with them in the short term, I haven't developed and running 'feel' yet and don't know how much to hold back so I need help. A quick glance to my wrist did the trick.

Miles 8 and 9 leading into the 15K mark were getting faster, so I let it go at that point and went all out. I popped my second Gu at the final aid station. I was a bit worried I might urp it back up, but it stayed down and really, really helped. I need to use these more often.

It was a tremendous feeling passing all those people that I let go. The urge to pee was still there and growing. I struggled between the need to hold it in versus the effort to keep running hard. With about 2 miles to go, the route passed a construction site with a fluorescent orange porta-pottie. It was ten feet away. It begged me to use it. My bladder begged me to use it. My mind said, "Finish hard or pee? Your choice." I chose to finish hard and held it in.

To help get passed the pain of premature peeing, I marked two guys ahead of me and attempted to pull them in.

"Finish. Just get to the finish."

I passed them. On the next hill they, in turn, re-passed me. I was fading.

"Finish. Just get to the finish."

I set my next target on an obvious choice: a guy wearing 80s-era spandex with a cotton shirt tucked deeply inside. The shirt was tucked so deep into his shorts, the sweat was wicking well below his ass and dripping. It looked like he was wearing a leaky diaper.

"Go get him."

I passed him in the last down hill before the finish. Damn it felt good picking of the weakest of the herd. One last pass of a female in the finish chute, and I'm done. I stopped my watch and didn't look at it. I grabbed two waters and went directly to the bathroom. Once there, I suddenly don't have to go. Figures. I have to go every five minutes for the last hour and a half and then when given the opportunity, it stops.

I stretched, wondered around a bit and ate bits of bagels waiting for Tim. I don't like the fact that chocolate chip bagels look so much like cinnamon raisin ones. I hate the taste of a chocolate chip bagel, especially when I expect sweet cinnamon and juicy raisins.

I finally got around to looking at my watch. I was excited to see 1:36:25. Good enough for 109th overall and 30th of males aged 30-39.

Tim arrived earlier than planned. His goal was to run a 10 min/mi pace. Once he saw he was at 1:03 at the halfway point, he went for the negative split and sub two-hour goal. He crossed in 1:59:58, the last under 2 hours.

Analysis
Below are two printouts of my effort:

The first one above shows my pace (blue) and heartrate (red) versus distance. Note how my heartrate and pace are relatively even for the first 8 miles of the race. Right after that I dropped the hammer and raced to the finish line.

This one shows my pace in five-kilometer sections. Note how much faster my last 5K was than the first three. Overall, I'd like to see my next race even out the last two fourths so that they are equal but even and faster than the first two fourths (half.) This is called negative splitting. It's really swell if you can do this on an effort basis, but even better if you can do it on a time basis, as well.

I missed out on signing up for this tri last year, so I was excited to get my registration in. Only then did I realize it was the day after Crazylegs. This could hurt.

The course starts in a pool, out to the road for the bike and then out to a off-road run course. I was assigned wave ten, two and a half hours after the start of the first wave. There were a max of 20 people per wave (three people for lanes 2-6 and four in lanes 1 & 6). I got there a little early to check out how the course laid out and how the pool to T1 transition worked. It was a good thing I did. They were a half-hour early through wave seven. I went to warm up and finalize my transition area. I came back and it seemed like things were taking longer. Wave 8 had only just started. So I got in the diving well to continue warming up. Wouldn't you know it, but my blister protecting band-aids immediately fell off. I guess it was better sooner than later. Once done, wave 8 was still swimming and we were nearing our actual start time. Unfortunately, that let me think that I had to wear my top for the race. I didn't plan on swimming with it, fearing that the pockets would fill with water and drag. So I thought I would be really smart, and leave it at the end of the lane to grab on my way to the bike. Really, I thought I was smart.

Swim
Finally our wave was ready. As we waited, I could tell the elite swimmer all go grouped together. Seems like tough competition. And then, all of a sudden we were in the water, checked in and sharing paces. I was third of three. Number one, a high school kid, was expecting a 5:25 split for his 500 yard swim. Number two estimated 6:00. I was expecting the same pace, so we all agreed to tap toes to pass. And then we were off. All of that waiting and finally, I was swimming. Within the first 100, I caught the number two swimmer. It took another 150 to catch number one. He started off like a rocket and quickly died. I can never remember my count, so a couple of tarzan strokes at the 450 confirmed one final lap. I love how much faster the yards go by in a race than in practice. One final turn and the drive to the final wall and I'm out, grabbed my top and took off running to my bike.

Swim split: 5:54, 1st OA/AG (includes run out to timing zone)

Bike
As I ran out to my bike, I realized the error of my ways. This is me trying to put on my top: one arm in, then the other, doesn't go down. Try again. Did one go through the neck? Or did one go through the arm and the first go through the neck? Nope I had it right, put it back on, quick, wait, now it's stuck, ouch, stretch, reach up, pull it down, okay, now put on your shoes and finish your transition. Oh, hello everyone, why don't you join me and pass me in T1. Great. So maybe it wasn't that smart. Everyone else just threw their bike shoes on, topless or not, and took off while I fumbled around. Lesson learned.

It was a beautiful day with plenty of friends reacquainting themselves. Wind, meet bikes. Bikes, meet wind. No matter how courteous each other are, they just never get along. One minute, the wind pushes you along, effortlessly pedaling nearly 30 miles an hour. Around the next bend and the wind is all up in your face, going nose to nose like Sweet Lou Pinella arguing a close call at home place. It's a love-hate relationship. After the turn, with the wind at my back, I pedaled as fast as I could muster. It was eerie because I felt no wind in my face. Sustained winds had to be near 30 miles per hour. Thankfully it was a short course (13.7 miles). However, the long straightaway back to T2 that begged to be downhill with the wind at your back was nothing but a nightmare. Instead it was slightly up hill and perfectly south into a southeast wind. Not only did you have to fight the wind in your face, but an occasional side gust from the neighboring naked corn fields taught a lesson in bike handling. The field ahead of me zigged and zagged with every gust. I climbed the final two bumps and I was back in T2, ready to run.

Bike split: 40:05, 19th/4th OA/AG (includes T1)

Run
Recent rains made the original course impassible. I didn't know if this was good or bad. Based on what I saw of the new course, I assumed it was bad. It was either up or down hill and rarely straight; a true cross country course. Out of T2, I quickly passed another up the first hill and then was passed by my bike rack neighbor. I only lost sight of him around the fifty plus turns in the course. As hard as it was, it was fun. No wind, in the woods, along a boardwalk, through mud and across a field. I also tried to cheer on others along the course. Several were walking, and hopefully appreciated my encouragement. I got passed on the finishing straight, which sucked, but I had nothing left to give chase. The course was long, too. That and the inclusion of T2 lead to higher times.

Run split: 26:01, 44th/6th OA/AG (includes T2)

Post-race
Because of the wave start and subsequent 10-second intervals in the pool, I was completely unaware of how I finished. The first time my name came up, I was third in my age group and fifteenth overall. I waited and waited and finally the awards started. And wouldn't you know it? The third place held up. My first piece of triathlon hardware. It's small, cheap, and relatively insignificant. There's no engraving, no marks, and nothing but a printed label that's not even attached to memorialize the day. Yet, I was more happy driving home with it in my pocket than I ever was when getting swimming medals as a kid. I even wanted to show it to the kids in the McDonald's drive-thru. I guess you get out what you put in. And all my hard work is starting to pay dividends.

Total time: 1:11:59, 18th/3rd OA/AG

2007 opened with a full plate. I signed up for the Earlybird triathlon not realizing that it was the day after the Crazylegs Classic. Crazylegs is one of those local races that you have to do, because there are 9,000 others that do it with you. How do you say no to 9,000 people?

I ran to the start to warm up. On my way, a runner with an obviously orange warm up jacket merged to the path just in front of me. I ran closer and noticed it was from 2007. Referencing the Nor'easter that hit Boston over Patriot's day, I asked if he'd dried out from the race. He had. We continued chatting and I learned that he'd been in town for the week on business. His recovery from the marathon was progressing nicely, so he extended his stay an extra day for the race. He, too, couldn't say no to 9,000 people.

I started in wave D, just fourth from the front. My plan was to run a 7-minute first mile and hold it steady from there for a sub-36 finish. The first mile came and went, 6:42. Darn. Too fast. This is going to hurt. About that time, I noticed that same girl was near me. Dressed all in blue, she was darting between people to find open space. I latched on to keep her same pace and hope she'd pull me to the finish. In my head, she was "my girl blue." Blue slowed the next couple of miles and I stayed with her. She bobbed to open spaces and I kept my eye on her. Soon after the third mile I was straining to see Blue in the through the open spots. I blinked and then she was gone. Ugh. Not having Blue to latch on to allowed thoughts of rest for the next day's triathlon creep into my mind. And for the few minutes my I fought them, I knew my sub-36 was gone.

This season is as much about running as it is about mind games. I can visualize finishes, but I have trouble visualizing the fight that it takes to through the pain to get the finish I desire. I really could've learn something about myself, but the triathlon the next day kept me from pushing miles 3 & 4. I kicked in a bit for mile 5, and was surprised to see that I finished in a personal best 36:10. Being so close to 36 minutes was bitter sweet. On one hand, I got a personal best, but I missed my goal by the (lack of) hair on my head. I finished 662nd overall and 85th in my age group.

So all this running might be paying off. I ran Bucky' Race for Rehab 5K instead of a running time trial as part of my recovery week. It was the same course as the Valentine's Day 5K, providing the opportunity to compare and see if I could improve on my 22:00 performance on the bitterly cold day in February.

One of my season goals is to run a sub 20:00. In the race registration bag, Runner's World provided a chart that showed the necessary pace to finish a particular time for several race distances. To go sub 20:00 in a 5K, you need to be faster than a 6:30 pace. Gulp. My first thought was to rethink my goal. Nerves aside, it was a beautiful sunny day. Just cool enough, but not so much to be chilled.

I started near the front to avoid the slower starters. However, this induced me to run the first mile a touch fast. I split the first mile in 6:23. Whoa. Too fast. (But it felt so good.) I backed off and settled into an aggressive pace to make sure I would push myself.

Throughout mile 2, I stuck with most of the group and even picked off a couple of guys fading. Granted, they were nearly twice my age, but a pass is a pass. I crossed the 2nd mile mark at 13:00, for a 6:37 split, leaving seven minutes to go 1.1 miles. I would need to run at a 6:22 pace to get there in time. I knew that it wasn't happening today. (That's why a sub-20 is a season long goal.)

At about mile 2.5, there's a hair-pin turn at the top of a small incline. It totally sucks. The combination of the curve and hill zap any momentum that you have for the home stretch. I hit the hell already thinking I'm dead. I feel like I'm in molasses but I press on to the finish, which is also up a small hill.

I turned the final corner and saw the 20:xx on the clock. I didn't expect to see that, so I was excited and stopped my watch at 20:37. A PR by over a minute from last November's 21:49. Now to repeat the run after a swim and a bike.

I contemplated training for Chicago's full marathon but then it sold before I could even start contemplating it. And wouldn't you know, there's a half marathon (not related) two weeks prior. To make it more fun, I got my sister to do it with me. That way I wouldn't feel bad about waking up at 5:30 am when I stayed at her place.

Through August and September, I struggled to adhere to Hal Higdon's intermediate half-marathon training plan. Too much life in the way, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But I made it with a couple of longish runs and noticed that after a few speed workouts and races, my pace was quicker with the same level of effort (heart rate). It seemed like something was working.

I toed the line with goal of finishing sub 1:50 with a stretch goal of sub-1:45. I planned to negative split, running 8:05 miles for the first half, and sub 8:00s for the second half. My finish time all depended on how far under 8 minutes I'd be on the last 6.5 miles.

I lined up within view of the 1:45 pace setter and planned to let him fade into the distance and then bring him back into view through my negative split strateegery. What I didn't plan on was the presumed inexperience of the pace setter. When the first mile clocked in at 8:30, the 1:45 sign disappeared into the distance in a hurry. I can imagine his thoughts were something like, "Uh-oh, we've got to pick it up here." And then he sprints to make up for it. And I went after it stupidly. The second mile was sub-8:00. Back and forth, we played the accordion, not really setting an even pace. By the 3.5 mile mark, I let him go and turned inward to run my race. Right at that point, my bladder turned outward and let me know that we weren't going to finish this race without stopping. (And if you know my bladder, you know that it doesn't joke around.) I made a quick stop, about 25 seconds worth, and continued on my way.

I saw my parents and cousin just after mile 4. You've got to love my Mom's enthusiasm. She puts it all out there, holding nothing back. I continued on, clocking some even 8:05 miles and crossed the halfway point in 52:08 on the chip, for a 7:58 pace. Maybe a touch too fast? We'll see. Along the way, I took water whenever I could, and slammed a Gu just before mile 5. Unfortunately the placement of the aide stations seemed random. And the Gatorade mix (provided at only two stations) was way too strong. My tummy started to talk back, so I held off on the liquids for a little bit. Miles 8 & 9 proved to be the toughest mentally. My body wanted to fall back on my comfortable training pace. I had to make active mental effort to continue to push my legs, knowing that they wouldn't fall off. I also would've taken my other Gu, but the lack of consistent water stations didn't allow me to.

At mile 10, I heard the family before I saw them, providing a much needed boost to the ego. I spent the next two miles trying to keep my pace under 7:50 to keep the negative split alive. It was during this time there were others actually pacing off of me. Me? As a pace setter? Never! The last mile and half I spent with Marty. We didn't talk, but had spent most of the day within sight of each other. He appeared to be a Galloway runner, walking after every mile to douse himself with water from a personal water bottle. He'd catch up, spend some time with me, move ahead for a while, then drop off for his walk and then repeat the process. He took an extra break at mile 12.6, and then raced ahead to cross the line ahead of me. (I beat his chip time, though!)

The finishing mile plays with your head. It's windy, and you think you'll see the finish line around the next gentle curve. It was never there. To further mess with your head, the organizers put a speaker way before the actual line, so what you thought was the finish announcer was really wasn't. Finally, after the last bend, the line was in sight. And, I'm sure there's plenty this guy in every race: the psycho guy yelling at himself, totally in the red, charging to the finish line. He zoomed by, scaring everyone with his torrent to the line. I struggled to muster up a finish sprint myself, and crossed the line with a 1:44:55 on my watch. Nice to see, but deep down I knew it wouldn't stick. I stretched my legs waiting for my sister and cousin to finish. I counted on my legs being sore, but I didn't count on my shoulder cramping up big time. I must've really scrunched up pumping out the last few miles. I dunno what happened, but it really hurt.

Aside from the plethora of water and Gatorade Endurance at the finish line, the food really was lacking. It was well organized, but the one banana, apple and teeny bag of pretzels was severely lacking. No cookies, bagels or any treats normally accustomed to finish line areas. This disappointment combined with the misplacement of aide stations are just enough for me to write to the race directors and share my thoughts.

My final chip time is 1:45:19, 24 seconds off my watch time. My watch, a Forerunner 305 is set to pause when I stop moving. So, when I ducked into the bathroom, it paused while I peed. (Normally I'm a speedster, this time it seemed to drag on and on and on.) So, it turns out the 24 seconds it took me to pee cost me my stretch goal. No matter. This is PR by over ten minutes. I'm really pleased with the improvements I've made in my running and I know there's a lot more potential within.

Final numbers:
Overall: 1:45:19 for an 8:02 pace
Finished 1105 of 8981 and 142 / 639 in my age group: (M30-34).
Splits: 0:52:08 / 0:53:11

[FYI: An aquathon is a swim followed directly by a run.]

This was the last of the series, but my first. A new thing for this summer, I hoped to do more, but these always seemed to fall on weeks directly prior to races, or I was out of town. Like all races this year, I was undertrained. The only thing I had going for me was my run fitness, up a bit because of my Chicago Half-Marathon training. My swimming; not so much. The race was laid back. Just walk up and set your stuff down. I got body-marked (number 6!) and went on a short warm up jog, and then got my wetsuit on and eaves-dropped on some conversations. There were quite a few people there that had just finished Ironman Wisconsin and hadn't run since. Some might call them crazy, I call these people die-hards.

Swim
The water was a bit chilly but calm. I paddled around a bit and called myself warmed up. Then things were delayed waiting for a few folks. A couple of quick announcements and the gun went off. I take off running to the water to the right of the counter-clockwise triangle course with the lead group. That was all I could hope for. But I veer constantly. I don't seem to be able to hold a straight line without a big black row of tiles under me. I swim like I'm drunk. I finally settle in and try to find a groove. I'm next two a guy I recognize from the Nat and we're stroke for stroke behind two leaders, one of which is on a relay "for fun." But I can't seem to find a groove. My stroke never lengths and I can't seem to stop sprinting. I guess I'm doing this one all out. I continue on my wayward path veering this way and that and finish strong, fourth out of the water.

Run
I struggled to get my socks on over my wet, sandy feet, then grabbed my shirt and headed out on the run. By the first turn, I lost my swimming partner. Unfamiliar with the course, I thought I missed a turn but it turned out I was okay. My run started out really short and choppy, but lengthened as I got warmed up. I got passed a few times, but held of a couple of people, too. That actually felt good. I did get passed by the first female, but that was right at the end and she won the entire series, so I wasn't too upset about it. I hoped my time would've reflected the hard effort, but the intervals the night before left nothing in the tanks.

Overall, a nice time with some really nice people. I hope to compete more in next year's series.

Swim (1000m): 11:05 (4th OA)
Run: (5K): 23:30 7:23 pace (21st OA)
Total: 35:23, (8th OA, 7th AG)

The Devil's Challenge is part of the Wisconsin Triathlon Series. It's held in Devil's Lake State Park, Wisconsin's most popular state park. Scenic and historic, it's a great setting for a triathlon. The weather forecast called for mid 70s and thundershowers. The radar supported the forecast as we left for the race site at 5:30AM. And the rain we drove through confirmed that maybe these weather forecasters might deserve their paycheck after the previous week's Ironman Wiscosnin forecast debacle. However, the rain stopped before we got the park and held off for the race. The sun even pushed its way through to make it quite a nice day.

Pre Race
Getting to the park and setting up my transition was a snap. I met up with some friends and even saw another that was just back in town. After a nice warm up run and some potty breaks, it was time to make our way to the water. Devil's Lake is rectangular, and we were swimming on the north shore. That allowed the strong morning wind to blow across the entire lake and make it nice and choppy, what every triathlon swim needs.

Swim
In these local races, I'm usually within the top 5 swim overall, so I positioned myself at the front and waited for the horn. I take off sprinting, and dive in and start swimming when I can. Now, touching other swimmers in a race isn't a new thing but, I actually bumped into another race as he ran next to me. The lake never really gets too deep. In fact, you can walk the entire course, which many people in the novice waves did.

I made it though the waves, missing strokes every so often as some got swallowed up. I made the final turn to the shore and immediately met the bottom. I couldn't stroke anymore and I found it hard to run in with the wetsuit on, so I did some dolphin dives until it was shallow enough to run in. I finished 1:30 faster than the rest of my wave and had the fastest time overall by two seconds.

Bike
The bike course was hilly. As predicted, the first two miles could ruin your entire race. You immediately climb a long slow steady hill, quite the hindrance in sprint race. I spun as best I could ("Spin to win, baby!"), thinking it may not have been such a good idea not to have ridden my bike for the entire month of August. Much like the Ironman course, there is no level grade; you're either climbing or descending. Lots of the roads were still wet from the morning rain and if you went too fast and ran over a leaf, you were asking for trouble. It was most frustrating just before the entrance back to the park. There's a steep, short climb before the main gate, and then you descend near hair-pin curves to the finish. I made it through safe and sound, and ran across the soggy ground to T2.

Run
In and out (I always feel like I miss something) and on to the run. I took it slow and easy to start out; short strides to keep the turnover high. As my legs loosened up, I could feel myself moving faster and gaining some steam. I actually passed some people, which never happens to me on the run. As we made our way to the heart of the run in the campground, I could smell fresh fire being built for breakfast, an odd smell during a race. Most campers were in a daze, wondering who the hell all these people running through their sites were. Nobody really cheered, not even when I tried to goad them into it. Oh well, I was still having fun. I made the last turn and got passed by two guys, one from the 25-29 age group and one from mine. Wait a minute, that's my age group, and can't let him beat me! So I took off after him, just nipped him at the line to take 69th overall and 7th in the age group. Once again, the elites were mixed in the age groupers, so I was shut out of the podium.

As we cooled down, we remarked on how you get the full gamut of racing abilities, body types, equipment, and attitudes -- all of it good. I've got to keep doing this - it's too much fun.

Results
Overall: 69th out of 747
Age Group: 7th out of 65
Males: 65th out of 465

Swim (~0.25mi-seemed shorter): 5:21
T1: 1:56
Bike (15 mi): 52:13
T2: 0:58
Run (3 mi): 23:00
Final time: 1:23:26

Prologue
2006 started with promise. Fresh off a successful inaugural season of triathlon with an Ironman finish, I was ready to continue training and competing in more races. My main race of this season was to be the Spirit of Racine Triathlon (SORT), a half-ironman that last year ate up the field with 99° heat and a 110+° heat index. I wanted retribution.

Alas, the season thus far hasn't been as regimented as it was last year. I never sat down and set out a training plan. There was to be a marathon finish in May. But my IT band was having nothing of that. Then, we bought a house and I was busy with that, work and other social activities; playing softball and volleyball. My training suffered, long rides and swims were rare, if existent. Running took a back seat to rest my ITB. Then it was June and almost time for the SORT. I was way behind and questioning my abilities to finish the race.

Pre-Race
We were eating breakfast and I was missing the decisive Tour de France individual time trial. My wife was somewhat amazed that I actually got goose bumps thinking about what Floyd was about to do. I hurried her through her eggs just so that we could get back to an internet connection to follow the live updates on velonews.com. That's when we walked by the bar and saw OLN. (Our hotel next door didn't have OLN.) We walk in and sat down next to a very nice gentleman that explained where Floyd was and how he was looking. (10 minutes to go, 1:30 ahead at predicted paces.) We discussed things some more and quietly left after the stage was over without acknowledging our viewing mates. It wasn't until the awards ceremony that we realized who we were speaking with. It was none other than Dave Cracknell, Lisa Bentley's husband. Lisa was there too, but she was too engrossed in the tour to talk.

As for the pasta feed advertised by the race; well...not so much. It was a part of Racine's "Salmon-a-rama". Seriously; Salmon-a-rama. Nothing but Racine's finest were out for various festival goodies. Some rides, a fishing pond for the kids, overly fried food and beer. Lots of beer. Everything except a "pasta feed." No one knew about it. Not the lady selling the tickets to get the beer. Not the kids selling tickets to get beer. (Where are all the triathletes? Everyone here look like they could eat a triathlete.) Not the people selling everything but beer. Not even the beer people knew what the pasta feed was. Finally, inside the showroom displaying all the boats, engines and trailers was one gentleman that finally knew where the pasta was; down that hall around that corner and tucked away. We checked it out. Umm, yeah, maybe not. Only one table was full. If pasta could ever smell putrid, this was the place. We didn't want to be the blame for Jason, Sheila and Carl