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.
