Fresh pavement

Get ready for a buttery-smooth ride. Fresh pavement on the Beeline
from Gilbert Rd to Shea Blvd.

Rotten Injury

Well, my Ironman Arizona prep has hit a speed bump. More like a traffic jam. I've inured my foot. Got a little of what they call peroneal tendonitis. I haven't run "long" in nearly a month now. My training was rockin' too. Hitting on all cylinders. And now this. This annoying little bit of proverbial gravel in my training shoe. The toughest part, I've caught it early. It never stopped me from running, but I knew eventually it would. I've had to choose to stop; a very tough thing for me to do. And even though I've mustered the strenghth of will to hold back, I'm still not healed!! Frustration is too mild a description. My IM goals are fading over the horizon and if I don't get back at it soon, I think I'll lose sight of them for this go-'round.

I've got a superstar physical therapist I'm working with and giving all of my money :) and I know he'll get me back, but when? How soon? And in what capacity? How many :00's per mile will I have lost off my 42k pace? The questions go on and on. Did I know soooner? Did I run in those shoes too long? Did I listen to my gut when it said "hey, maybe this is too much" and "hey, stupid! This IS too much!"? Enough! Just shut up!

Head up. Stay positive. Move on.

This is where you win races...

I saw this new ad from Cycleops recently in Bicycling Magazine. I love it:

It really struck a chord with me because this is exactly what I tell myself when I'm sluggin' it out on the trainer and I just don't fee like pushing. It usually does the trick. OK, my winning is different from others, I don't have an overall win (yet), but, it is in training when the performance is born. You can't just decide to go faster on race day, you can only go as fast as you've prepared to go. When you boil it down, the race is only a test to see whom has prepared the best and executed on the day. The winner has already won but will only be revealed to all at the finish line. Sometimes I think of it like a photograph (forget about digital photos for a second), during training, you take the picuture, it's set, the composition can't be changed, and on race day, you develop the film and see how the picture turned-out.

Buffalo Springs Lake Triathlon 70.3

Buffalo Springs Lake Triathlon is one of the few 70.3 races in which one can acquire a qualifying spot to the Hawaii Ironman World Championship in Kona. There is really only one slot per age-group available, but my age-group commonly ends-up with two. I won't explain how that happens here, suffice it to say I had to come in first or second, or someone whom finished higher than me had to decline to accept their spot. Not likely.

This race marked my first "official" attempt at doing just that, qualifying for Kona. It was my only real intention for doing this race. The venue is well, eh, and the 13 hr drive to Lubbock, Texas is nothing I'd like to do on a regular basis. Let me back-up.

I decided to do this race a bit late. It often does not sell out as most of the full Ironman distance races do and so I had the opportunity for a late entry. Still, I knew when I signed-up that the timing was bad. The race would be less than two weeks after a 10-day trip to Europe during which I would not be able to train optimally. When you're trying for a Kona slot, and you need to be perfect, less than optimal is bad. Still, I thought I'd take swing at it.

Prior to my Europe trip, I raced Deuceman (see previous post) and had a half recovery, half-maintain fitness week before I left. I had a great time in Europe and did some running, less cycling (stationary bike), even less swimming. I tried to kick things back into gear when I got home, but jet-lag and too much Guinness took their toll and I went into race week feeling less than fit.

When you're racing for a PR weather can be a determining factor. When you're racing to best others in your division, it just really doesn't matter. You're all in the same boat. But, here's the run-down anyway. I'd expected it to be blistering hot and humid on race day and I'd taken advantage of the Arizona climate and done lots of training in the hottest part of the day to try to acclimate. However, race day temps were seasonably low and the wind was high. The water temp was "wetsuit legal" but that's about all. The very-warm water had many scratching their heads; wetsuit or speedsuit...? I don't, OK didn't have, a speedsuit, but after a short swim the day before in a wetsuit, I bought a speedsuit at the expo. I was SURE they'd say no wetsuits. The water was just too warm. The call on race morning proved me wrong, nearly everyone donned their wetsuits and I followed suit, no pun intended. It would just be too much of a disadvantage for me and the water was rough. I thought it the best choice.

I navigated the swim better than I have recently, but the water was very murky, and in the low light you couldn't see past your wrist never mind feet in front of you. So, drafting was difficult at best. I came out of the water, looked at my watch, and thought I was out of contention already, at least two minutes off the pace.

The bike felt bad. My legs just felt sluggish and the wind was gusting enough for me to lean into it during some segments. Around mile 25 the rain kicked in and became steadily stronger, toward the end becoming quite heavy. I rolled into T2, checked my split and was fairly certain I was out of contention. I was good six minutes off the required bike pace. There was probably no way I was going to run fast enough to make up the time. I'm not being defeatist here, I'm just stating the facts. Still, you never know what's going to happen, so you press on.

I got to my rack and all of my stuff was SOAKED. My shoes could not have been wetter if I'd swum in them. I squish-squashed out of T2 and I had to stop early, something just felt wrong, like I left a gel pack in my right shoe. I pulled to the side, took off my shoe, and...nothing. Just soggy, soggy shoes and no socks. I held back some in the first half of the run, as planned, but toward the end, I was huffing and frothing, thinking of every motivational thing I could to push the pace, but it just wasn't there. I passed Heather Golnick with about 1k to go and actually asked if she'd read the calf of the guy in front of me. She was as astonished as she should have been. What the hell was I thinking. The answer came: "no". I could barley crack 6:30's according to my Garmin and I knew I needed to run 6:20 miles or better. My legs had been cramping since mile six and I knew I'd been on the ragged edge. I didn't have the legs. Too much time off.

I finished in 4:34 with blood-stained shoes. Wet + no socks = no skin. Not a bad time given the hilly course and windy conditions. But, like I said, everyone was in the same boat and four other guys in my AG had smacked it. The second Kona slot rolled-down to third. I, being in 5th, missed it by about six minutes. No "I woulda, coulda, shouldas" though. I went as fast as I was capable that day, but not as fast as I'm capable of. I know that. I did get a qualifying spot to the 70.3 World Championships in Cleawater, Florida on November 23rd. To quote Carl from Caddyshack, "So, I got that goin' for me."

Deuceman Half-Iron

The weather forecast for the Saturday races was supposed to be rainy and cold, but that’s not how it turned-out. Clear skies, sunny and just a little wind were what we got. Perfect. The water temp was on the chilly side at 61 degrees. Luckily I just got a Zoot neoprene cap and I kept me quite warm.

Just before the swim start, it seemed as though everyone wanted to be at the front. It was really crowded. There were only two waves in the Deuceman Half-iron; men and women. So, it was really rough, just as bad as an Ironman start. I pushed hard in the beginning with thoughts of getting dropped in the swim two weeks ago at the Tempe international running through my head. Big mistake. The combination of the coldish water and high altitude sent me into a hyperventilating tail-spin. I’ve never experienced that before, well maybe not since my first ever open-water swim. I had to stop swimming several times and watch the race swim away from me. When I thought about that, I added panic to the equation and it was just a mess.

I managed to get things mostly under control by the half-way point, but it was really too late. I came out of the water in a disappointing 31+ minutes. I swam faster here two years ago. I let lots of hard work in the pool go to waste. I tried to stay positive and make the best of what was left. I moved through transition pretty quickly and hit the road.

A couple of miles in, Dan Beaver (2009 Kona qualifier) rode past me; we traded spots on and off as hills and pacing dictated. It seemed pretty clear that neither of us were going anywhere. Not working together, but just riding our individual race plans neither willing to abandon the plan and burn matches to break away or to drop off the pace. By mile ten we were joined by a third rider. Each of us occasionally putting in a slight surge to try to break from the other two, but each unable or unwilling to sustain it long enough to break the elastic. By mile 20 we were joined by a fourth, Brian Henry, a strong cyclist. By mile 30 I’d resigned to the fact that this group would likely be together all the way into T2. On one hand I was OK with this as I new I was riding with some strong cyclists, on the other, I didn’t want to roll into T2 with Beaver. That’s too much pressure on the run.

With about five miles left in the bike, I pushed my watts up a little bit and put a small gap on the other three, enough that I was able to pedal easy the last mile and get my legs ready to run. But as I ran into T2 I quickly glanced over my shoulder and saw the other three were right there. Crap! I made a fast (day best) 1:08 transition and hit the run fumbling with my visor, number belt, Hammer Gel flask, and Garmin. In all that mess I stopped my watch and didn’t realize it until about .7 miles in.

The early part of the run felt bad and I thought it was going to be a long day and even that I might end-up walking. At about 1.5 miles in, a twenty-something ran by me, strong. It surprised me. I thought maybe he was in the Olympic distance race or maybe in a relay. He was slowly pulling away from me and I was concerned. At the three mile turn-around point, I could see that he was wearing a Duceman number. Bad news. The good news was that I saw only one other Deuceman number heading the other way. I’d checked my watch when he went past me and again when I hit the cone. I was two minutes out of the lead with ten miles to go. I was worried about the guy in second but I didn’t want to push the pace yet. I had to keep reminding myself to be patient. “Long way to go Brad, he could be going too hard, gotta stick to YOUR race, wait it out, stay in contact, see what happens.”

The twenty-something was still putting time into me, but I could tell we were slowly catching the guy in the lead. By mile six I was gaining on second and we had taken a minute out of the lead. At about nine miles in, the twenty–something imploded. I went past him at the mile nine aid station and I could hear him struggling behind me. Within a minute I went past the 47 year-old stud (John Poisson), whom I was sure was the lead.

Four miles to go. Was I going to hard? My heart rate said I was good to go. My mile splits were all between 6:20-7:00 per mile, just as I planned. I pressed on. After the turn-around at mile 10, I checked my watch and pushed the pace some more. I was still putting time into the two behind me and I was pretty sure the rest were too far back to do anything about it. With two miles to go I pushed harder. “Take no chances”, I thought. Within 100 yards of the finish, I could hear the announcer. “Oh, I must not have been paying attention”, he said. “That was our fist Deuceman finisher!” What?!? I didn’t understand. Where was that guy? Answer: too far ahead for you to know there was someone else up there. I thought I’d missed the win by thirty seconds and my thoughts shot back to my abysmal swim. Crap.

I later learned that the announcer REALLY wasn’t paying attention. The winner Glenn Mengering, had been done about 2:30 before he made that announcement. So, I was more like three minutes back. Still, had I had the swim I should have, it may have been very close. Oh well, I’ll take second overall!

Click here for results

Tempe International Triathlon

As I said before, this was my season opener. I had not raced since October of last year, so it was intended to be a knock-the-rust-off race. A chance to stretch the legs a little with some race-pace speed and get ready for Deucman 70.3 at the Deuces Wild Triathlon Festival in two weeks.

Early last week my legs felt about as fatigued as they ever have been and I doubted I’d be very well recovered for the race. “Ah well, it’s a ‘C’ race” I thought, “don’t worry about it”. I couldn't help it though. I knew I would judge my chances at my next two races based on my performance. Not a good thing, but, I knew it was the truth.

The forecasted high temperature for race day was 106 degrees. Yeah, that’s warm. It’s been warm here in Phoenix, with above normal temps for two weeks or so. I’d been watching the Tempe Town Lake water temperature online. In the morning it had been 76-77; right on the edge of the 78 degree legal limit, and then it would climb into the 80’s by mid day. The race director said they’d make the call about wetsuits on race day. I held some hope that it would be wetsuit legal, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t. As such, I safety-pinned the pocket on my race jersey closed to help reduce drag in the water.

Race morning came and sure enough, no wetsuits. This is a bit of a disadvantage for me, as swimming is not my strength. I’m not awful, but I’m not going to win it in the swim. As I looked around, I noticed that most of my competition either decided to swim with no top or they had on their speed suits. I was debating right up until I got in the water if I should ditch the jersey or not. You see, they have a rule, or a law, in Tempe, that men have to wear tops during races. So, if I swam without one, I would have had to put it on in transition. Having experienced the whole ordeal of trying to put a jersey on a wet body before, I decided against it.

Then gun went off… Wait, no it didn’t, a guy with a bull horn said, “3-2-1, swim!” I could see the lead pack of 10 or so pull away. I thought a few might come back to me, but they never did. And it seems that I must have been the fastest of those left behind as no one passed me the entire swim. Well, not that I could tell. I was left to go it alone the whole time. Not good. No wetsuit, no speed suit, no draft.

I hit the exit and checked my watch. I expected to see 21:xx-23:xx but what I saw was 28:xx. Oh crap… My heart sank. I looked again. I just couldn’t understand how that was possible. I thought for sure I’d blown the race. My girlfriend Sarah yelled to me that there were nine ahead of me in my age-group. Ugh. Well, time to get to work.

I blew through transition in just over a minute. Early in the bike I had a lot of cramping in my glutes. It was strange; I’ve never had that before. I figured it would pass and it did. The bike was mostly uneventful, although I was never very comfortable with my pacing. My new Kuota Kueen-K was awesome and silky smooth with the race wheels on!

There were a few out-and-backs on the course and I was keeping an eye on a few guys. I put a little time into them here and there, but lost it back to a few. Bike time: 1:01:28

I was greeted in transition by mostly empty bike racks. Sarah told me that, as best she could tell, there were six ahead of me in my age group. I made it in-and-out of T2 in :43 and started the run. I felt really good and I picked-off a few guys early. It was getting warm, but the race director had aid stations just about every half mile. It was really great! Just near the end of the first loop of the run, I could see my one of my AG competitors running across the Mill Avenue Bridge, still far in front. I tried to stay calm and I held my pace. As I began the second loop, Sarah told me there were still three in front of me. I caught one of them a half mile later. At four miles I was crossing the Rural Bridge and I could see another competitor about a quarter mile ahead. I picked-up the pace and slowly began to reel them in.

By mile five I’d caught them. I intended to shadow for a while, I felt like it was too early to make a move. I didn’t want a mile-long foot race on my hands. But, they had a friend riding along next to them, an extra set of eyes, and before I knew it, my cover was blown. I had to go. I put in a surge and I heard his friend encouraging him to go with me. I dug in. No way. I wasn’t going to back down, and I wasn’t going to let up, and I wasn’t going to look back. Not yet. Three quarters of a mile later, there was (another) u-turn on the course. As I looked back across the bridge, I realized the chase was over. No where to be seen. Still, didn’t let up until the finish. Run time: 36:26

Around the finish line, there was plenty of discussion about the swim and consensus is that it was about 300-400 yards long. That still means I didn’t have a great swim, I gave up 4-5 minutes to the leaders, but at least it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

Preliminary results had me at 2nd AG and 6th OA. But at awards, I learned that I’d won my AG.

Click here for results and scroll down for age-group standings.

What a great way to open the season. I can’t wait for Deuces!

I have (the) power!

Just a quick update here. A couple of pictures of my new Cycleops PowerTap training wheel (Mavic Open Pro) and Zipp 808 built-up with another PowerTap hub. I just got the Zipp back from the shop and I'm really excited. Thanks to Cycleops, I'll be training and racing with a power meter from now on. OK, so I didn't get the SL+, but hey, I'm on a budget.

Training wheel here:

And here is the Zipp:

I'm really loving all the data I'm able to get from the PowerTap. Aside from power data, there is hear trate, speed, cadence, calories burned, average speed, average heart rate, average cadence, average power, and on and on. It's amazing. Downloading the PowerTap head to the computer is a breeze too. The graphical analysis is really interesting and provides lots of new insight to me as to how I ride, my limitations, and how energy expenditure affects me both immediately and as a ride progresses. Check out PowerTap here: http://www.cycle-ops.com/