about 50 yards away, there was a pack of coyotes moving silently from
right to left. Great run!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Morning Trail Run
about 50 yards away, there was a pack of coyotes moving silently from
right to left. Great run!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Mountain Man Half Iron
I feel like it's been a ho-hum year for race results, I really needed a good one and I was hoping things would come around at this year's Mountain Man Half Iron distance triathlon.
As Sarah and I drove to the race venue on Sunday morning, we were happy that the heavy rain of the day before had stopped and it looked like clear sky's. But, we drove through several heavy fog banks on the way. As dawn broke, we could see Lake Mary was quite covered in fog. For some time, one couldn't see any of the buoys marking the swim course. As start time approached, some of the fog cleared, and from the bank I could see all three of the buoys (yes, three buoys for a 1.2 mile swim).
The swim start was mostly uneventful and first buoy was pretty close, almost straight across the narrow lake, and the whole pack seemed to swim straight for it. However, as we turned to head towards the far buoy, on the far side of the lake lengthwise, we could see nothing but fog. We swam on for what seemed like too long, but I was comfortably following the four lead swimmers and along side a kid in a kayak. I gotta say it again, I love that Zoot Zenith wetsuit! It's just a joy to swim in.
All of us at the front stopped several times and looked hard for the the far buoy, but all we could see was fog. Eventually though, I stopped looked far to the right and I saw a green buoy. I yelled to the kid in the Kayak, "hey, is that our buoy?!" he asked what color our turn buoy was, I told him green and he said,"yeah, that's it". The four in front of me headed on, but I made a hard right angle for the turn buoy. Half-way across the gap, I began to feel a little guilty, but I wasn't sure I could have alerted the others anyway. I made it to the turn first, but I was soon passed and left behind by a fast swimmer. I managed to maintain second place and exited the water in that position.
When I left T1 I heard someone yell "fist biker coming out!" Confusing. The lead swimmer must have been at least a minute in front of me out of the water. Where did he go? I jumped on to the bike and pedaled out, quickly settling into my goal wattage on my PowerTap. I was nervous though, my legs didn't feel good and I knew some strong cyclists weren't far behind. I wondered how long it would be before they caught me. At about six miles into the ride, I had my answer. A trio including Bryan Dunn and Brian Folts came past with a third in tow. They didn't linger but slowly crept out of site. Within a few miles I couldn't see them anymore. I refused to ditch my plan and kept my power steady. Near the first turn-around, I could see the lead three coming back, they'd opened a few minute gap and it was early. I wondered how large that gap would be by the end of the bike. My legs felt bad and I was already a ways back. I fought off discouragement and kept faith in my plan, focusing on having a good run.
I ended-up riding most of the day solo, save the overlap on the course with the Olympic distance racers. It's hard to maintain race effort solo. With a few miles left to go on the bike, I saw what looked like Brian Folts up ahead. I was surprised. I didn't think the group would fade much and I didn't expect to catch any of them on the ride. But, it was indeed Brian and with two miles to go, I passed him.
Riding into T2 I figured myself in third or fourth and, after a sloppy transition, I made my way out on to the course intent on taking the first couple of miles conservatively and building into it.
It's an odd run course. The fist two miles are relatively flat but mile three is all up hill, climbing nearly 1000', then, about a half mile out-and-back section at the top of the hill, back down the hill, and finally about a nine mile total out-and-back to the finish. I held a good pace heading up the hill but kept my heart rate fairly low. Just as I neared the top, I saw the race leader, Dan Springborn, about to head down. I checked my watch. About a minute later, I saw Bryan Dunn chasing, I checked my watch again. By the time I hit the turn-around, 3:30 had passed to the leader. So, I was somewhere around 7 minutes back. I barely entertained the thought that I might have a chance in hell of catching them. They must have smoked that bike course.
I flew down the hill at a five-something pace. When I got to the bottom, I thought I might see the runners up ahead, but nothing. I headed for the far run turn. I kept my cadence high, counting steps. My mouth was dry and I took lots of water at the aid stations. As I neared the turn, I was surprised that I had not seen the leaders coming back yet. With about half a mile to the turn, I saw Dan and checked my watch again. As before, about a minute later, I saw Bryan. When I hit the turn, I calculated the deficit at 4 minutes with just over 5 miles to go. "I can't catch them, no way" I thought. Then immediately after "Just keep going, keep working, see what happens." The argument in my head went back and forth for a mile. Bryan didn't seem to be getting any closer. With time running out, I pushed it up a bit and still felt good. With a little over two miles to go, I caught Bryan. I was hesitant to pass. I didn't want a shoulder-to-shoulder battle on my hands for the remainder of the race. I decided to go anyway, but pushed it up a bit more in hopes of deterring a chase. I was surprised to find that I was OK with this higher pace.
I could see Dan up ahead, but at least half a mile away. "What am I doing?" I thought. A small little wide-eyed voice in my head said, "You're not going to try to catch him too, are you? It's madness" I listened, but ignored it and I clawed my way closer. I was pushing the limits of my sustainable effort but with about a mile to go, I'd closed the gap to about 50 yards. Dan turned and looked back for the first time and he saw me. He surged. I could see the gap widen. "Damn", I thought. "He's got another gear, and I'm maxed-out." But, soon after, the gap began to close again. "What? No way. Still, he's so far away and there's so little time left." The gap widened some again, but not for long and with 200 yards to go, the gap was just feet. With about 100 yards to the finish, I passed and did my best interpretation of a sprint to the line without looking back.
I was sure Dan was chasing. Full of adrenaline and disbelief, I crossed the line in first. The race director was there to congratulate me and after a few moments I turned to see that Dan still hadn't crossed the line. I waited to congratulate him, but after crossing the finish, he just sort of wobbled and stumbled a bit, tapped-out.
In the end, the margin was only 32 seconds. Where was that gained and lost? Who knows. I was and am happy for the win, but felt bad for Dan. It must have been heartbreaking to lose it at the end like that.
Thanks to Sarah for her support and encouragement. Also, thanks to my Coach, Brian Grasky. And, thanks to all of my friends for the congratulations and kind words, it's very appreciated.
As Sarah and I drove to the race venue on Sunday morning, we were happy that the heavy rain of the day before had stopped and it looked like clear sky's. But, we drove through several heavy fog banks on the way. As dawn broke, we could see Lake Mary was quite covered in fog. For some time, one couldn't see any of the buoys marking the swim course. As start time approached, some of the fog cleared, and from the bank I could see all three of the buoys (yes, three buoys for a 1.2 mile swim).
The swim start was mostly uneventful and first buoy was pretty close, almost straight across the narrow lake, and the whole pack seemed to swim straight for it. However, as we turned to head towards the far buoy, on the far side of the lake lengthwise, we could see nothing but fog. We swam on for what seemed like too long, but I was comfortably following the four lead swimmers and along side a kid in a kayak. I gotta say it again, I love that Zoot Zenith wetsuit! It's just a joy to swim in.
All of us at the front stopped several times and looked hard for the the far buoy, but all we could see was fog. Eventually though, I stopped looked far to the right and I saw a green buoy. I yelled to the kid in the Kayak, "hey, is that our buoy?!" he asked what color our turn buoy was, I told him green and he said,"yeah, that's it". The four in front of me headed on, but I made a hard right angle for the turn buoy. Half-way across the gap, I began to feel a little guilty, but I wasn't sure I could have alerted the others anyway. I made it to the turn first, but I was soon passed and left behind by a fast swimmer. I managed to maintain second place and exited the water in that position.
When I left T1 I heard someone yell "fist biker coming out!" Confusing. The lead swimmer must have been at least a minute in front of me out of the water. Where did he go? I jumped on to the bike and pedaled out, quickly settling into my goal wattage on my PowerTap. I was nervous though, my legs didn't feel good and I knew some strong cyclists weren't far behind. I wondered how long it would be before they caught me. At about six miles into the ride, I had my answer. A trio including Bryan Dunn and Brian Folts came past with a third in tow. They didn't linger but slowly crept out of site. Within a few miles I couldn't see them anymore. I refused to ditch my plan and kept my power steady. Near the first turn-around, I could see the lead three coming back, they'd opened a few minute gap and it was early. I wondered how large that gap would be by the end of the bike. My legs felt bad and I was already a ways back. I fought off discouragement and kept faith in my plan, focusing on having a good run.
I ended-up riding most of the day solo, save the overlap on the course with the Olympic distance racers. It's hard to maintain race effort solo. With a few miles left to go on the bike, I saw what looked like Brian Folts up ahead. I was surprised. I didn't think the group would fade much and I didn't expect to catch any of them on the ride. But, it was indeed Brian and with two miles to go, I passed him.
Riding into T2 I figured myself in third or fourth and, after a sloppy transition, I made my way out on to the course intent on taking the first couple of miles conservatively and building into it.
It's an odd run course. The fist two miles are relatively flat but mile three is all up hill, climbing nearly 1000', then, about a half mile out-and-back section at the top of the hill, back down the hill, and finally about a nine mile total out-and-back to the finish. I held a good pace heading up the hill but kept my heart rate fairly low. Just as I neared the top, I saw the race leader, Dan Springborn, about to head down. I checked my watch. About a minute later, I saw Bryan Dunn chasing, I checked my watch again. By the time I hit the turn-around, 3:30 had passed to the leader. So, I was somewhere around 7 minutes back. I barely entertained the thought that I might have a chance in hell of catching them. They must have smoked that bike course.
I flew down the hill at a five-something pace. When I got to the bottom, I thought I might see the runners up ahead, but nothing. I headed for the far run turn. I kept my cadence high, counting steps. My mouth was dry and I took lots of water at the aid stations. As I neared the turn, I was surprised that I had not seen the leaders coming back yet. With about half a mile to the turn, I saw Dan and checked my watch again. As before, about a minute later, I saw Bryan. When I hit the turn, I calculated the deficit at 4 minutes with just over 5 miles to go. "I can't catch them, no way" I thought. Then immediately after "Just keep going, keep working, see what happens." The argument in my head went back and forth for a mile. Bryan didn't seem to be getting any closer. With time running out, I pushed it up a bit and still felt good. With a little over two miles to go, I caught Bryan. I was hesitant to pass. I didn't want a shoulder-to-shoulder battle on my hands for the remainder of the race. I decided to go anyway, but pushed it up a bit more in hopes of deterring a chase. I was surprised to find that I was OK with this higher pace.
I could see Dan up ahead, but at least half a mile away. "What am I doing?" I thought. A small little wide-eyed voice in my head said, "You're not going to try to catch him too, are you? It's madness" I listened, but ignored it and I clawed my way closer. I was pushing the limits of my sustainable effort but with about a mile to go, I'd closed the gap to about 50 yards. Dan turned and looked back for the first time and he saw me. He surged. I could see the gap widen. "Damn", I thought. "He's got another gear, and I'm maxed-out." But, soon after, the gap began to close again. "What? No way. Still, he's so far away and there's so little time left." The gap widened some again, but not for long and with 200 yards to go, the gap was just feet. With about 100 yards to the finish, I passed and did my best interpretation of a sprint to the line without looking back.
I was sure Dan was chasing. Full of adrenaline and disbelief, I crossed the line in first. The race director was there to congratulate me and after a few moments I turned to see that Dan still hadn't crossed the line. I waited to congratulate him, but after crossing the finish, he just sort of wobbled and stumbled a bit, tapped-out.
In the end, the margin was only 32 seconds. Where was that gained and lost? Who knows. I was and am happy for the win, but felt bad for Dan. It must have been heartbreaking to lose it at the end like that.
Thanks to Sarah for her support and encouragement. Also, thanks to my Coach, Brian Grasky. And, thanks to all of my friends for the congratulations and kind words, it's very appreciated.
Bouder Peak Triathlon
OK, I'll be honest, what I really want to do is get to my Mountain Man race report. But, I can't really pretend that the Boulder Peak Triathlon didn't happen. So, lets talk about it.
I did feel good going into this race. And, it's not like I did badly, but just not great. Below expectations let's say. Perhaps the biggest factor was my travel arrangements. It's generally accepted that if you don't live at altitude and your going to race someplace with a significantly higher altitude, the best thing to do is to arrive within 24 hours of the race. The later the better, all things considered. Well, I live at about 1300'. Boulder is around 6000'. My place of lodging, nearly 9000'. And I slept at nearly 9000' for two nights before the race. Not ideal. I think I really paid for it.
The Boulder Peak is a great race. And it's held in one of Triathlon's Meccas. So, the competition was definitely there. I was excited about it. I swam well, the bike was far more painful than I remember, but I feel like I held my own. The run? Stunk. I was redlined and just could not hold the pace I should be able to for that distance. Disappointing. I ended-up 6th in my agegroup and 22nd overall.
I did feel good going into this race. And, it's not like I did badly, but just not great. Below expectations let's say. Perhaps the biggest factor was my travel arrangements. It's generally accepted that if you don't live at altitude and your going to race someplace with a significantly higher altitude, the best thing to do is to arrive within 24 hours of the race. The later the better, all things considered. Well, I live at about 1300'. Boulder is around 6000'. My place of lodging, nearly 9000'. And I slept at nearly 9000' for two nights before the race. Not ideal. I think I really paid for it.
The Boulder Peak is a great race. And it's held in one of Triathlon's Meccas. So, the competition was definitely there. I was excited about it. I swam well, the bike was far more painful than I remember, but I feel like I held my own. The run? Stunk. I was redlined and just could not hold the pace I should be able to for that distance. Disappointing. I ended-up 6th in my agegroup and 22nd overall.
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