IMCT 70.3(ish)- The Swim

Okay, just in case you are unfamiliar with the blog or have minimal skills of deduction, this is a triathlon focused site. Once upon a time, I did an awful lot of race reviews. It's time I dust off that old ambition and get to writing things I know about... Which are really recaps of things I've already completed. For those of you who have access to my data feed, don't worry, there's some stories to tell. So, without further adieu (because really, who actually wants more adieu anyway?), I bring you my race report from Ironman Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy. Be forewarned, these can get a little wordy, so buckle in.

Pre-Race
Early this year, I found myself in the hunt for an early season half iron race. In years past, I would hit a semi-local race called the Pain in the Alleganies. It was the most difficult and most fun half I've ever done. Sadly, only about 7 other people agreed with me and the race was canceled. Luckily, there was IM Syracuse 70.3. I did that a few times. Then they canceled that race. (Note: I am suspicious that I might be the half-iron kiss of death./ End Note) I hit the interwebs looking for a June race that would pique my interest.

There were basically 2 that I could find in my time frame. They were Ironman Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy (hillier and harder) and IM 70.3 Eagleman, formerly and currently known as Eagleman (fast and flat). I reached out to the Outlaw (link to his bloggy thingy), friend, athlete, triathlete, client, and all-around excellent guy. He was looking to do a race right around that time, too. He made the mistake of letting me choose. I had to resort to the data to help in the decision. See, I have this unwritten race time to travel ratio rule. The rule is simple, I don't want to travel more hours for a race than the number of hours I'll be racing. So, that means about 1.5 hour travel for a sprint distance (Note 2: I round up to the nearest half hour for those of you getting ready to balk at my times. /End Note 2). I'll go up to 2.5 hours for an oly, 5.5 hours for a HIM, and roughly 79 hours for a full iron. Ironman Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy is 5.5 hours away (right on the edge of the rule) while IM Maryland, formerly and currently known as Eagleman is 7+ hours. Ironman Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy wins. (Note 3: The Outlaw really wanted to do the other race but was too pansy to speak up about it. /End Note 3)

IMCT Connecticut 70.3(ish), formerly and currently known as Quassy, is located in the middle of a nowhere state. Seriously, other than a minor college or two, I can't think of any reason why someone would visit the state. The race listed as being located in a town called Middlebury. I can't think of a more appropriate name for a town in this setting.

Check-in to the race was on the Saturday before race day. Due to the copious numbers of people registered for the race, they divided the check-in based on race numbers. Smaller numbers got to register early. Bigger numbers got to register late. The Outlaw is an All World Athlete (AWA), meaning that he got a small number. The Banter is an All World Nobody, meaning that he got a large number. (Note 4: Ironically, they assigned me #1974, which is my birth year, so I ain't complaining about an awesome coincidence!/ End Note 4) In theory, we were supposed to check-in several hours apart. I had intention of schmoozing a volunteer or 2 to let me check-in early. As it turns out, I didn't need my schmoozing skills (which are outstanding, by the way). The volunteers couldn't have cared less as to your race number, AWA, or AWN status. I checked in with the cool people.

They left us instructions as to how to rack your bike. I think I nailed it!

While there, we took a walk around the park to check out the venue. We saw a sign that summed up the triathlete's creed towards training.

I only wish I were joking. I met no fewer than 3 blokes on race morning who informed me that this would be their first swim of the year. Not first open water swim, but first actual swim. The swim course looked rather pleasant. It's a 1-loop triangle shaped path with the buoys on your right.

The Swim
One of the major concerns about this race is the lack of parking anywhere near the venue. Yes, it's in an amusement park called Quassy. I had these delusions of grandeur. And then I saw the park. It's slightly larger than your local summer carnival, if carnival grounds came with a couple of water slides. With a 6:30 am race start, we had to drive to a distant lot and get on the school bus/ shuttle to get us to the park. The Outlaw, traditionally, is one of the first people to arrive to any given race. The Banter, traditionally, arrives as they are kicking people out of transition. We split the distance and arrived on site about 5:45 am. That gave us about 15 minutes to set stuff up, or about 10 more minutes than I need, or about 90 minutes less than the Outlaw needs.

A quick glance around showed that the day wasn't as bright as it could be. There was a distinct haze in the form of a nice fog obscuring the view of an otherwise picturesque scene. At about 6:15, I was standing in line at the port-o-potty trying to perfectly time my last elimination of the day when it was clear that the race wasn't going to start on time. For 1, there were still athletes arriving from the shuttle bus system. For 2, there was no one yelling fervently as these athletes to 'hurry up' or 'you can't go in' or 'gtfo'. For 3, the excitement in the air was at an all-time lull, which is contrary from what you'd expect for a line that might be a few minutes longer than time left before the start.

After finishing my business, I moseyed on down to the lake front. I was circa 6:40. Buzz was that the race was now slated to start at 7:00. At 6:50, they made the announcement that the swim was to be shortened from a 1.2 mile swim to a 750 yard swim or about 0.4(ish) miles. A collective sigh went out amongst several athletes. Roughly 12 people, including the Outlaw and myself, started cursing our luck. We should have read that swim sign suggestion far earlier in the season. (Note 5: I was honestly supportive of the change. Due to the safety concerns of the swim and the collective triathlete's propensity to not be as prepared for that leg of the race, the lifeguards needed to be able to spot struggling athletes. Visibility was maybe 30 yards from the shore and got less as you made your way out into the lake. A shortened swim is far greater than a canceled swim. /end Note 5)

While awaiting our now re-postponed swim start, I met a guy named Frank. He would have been racing if it weren't for his recovering from a surgery (I think). Frank was taking pics of friend of his. I busted out the schmoozing skills I didn't use yesterdayand got him to snap a pic of me. Then I got him to text it to me. He is a much better photographer than I, and tossed in a bonus shot of the depth of the field, including the fog, for your viewing pleasure. I look forward to racing Frank in the near future, should life allow it.

Doing my best to not stare at the hotties on my left and right sides

Photo courtesy of Frank 

The swim was slated to be a rolling start. This was my first attempt at this style of racing. I had this vision that a rolling start would be similar to how they start runners at major marathons. You line up according to self-seeded abilities. The gun sounds and the athletes funnel into the water, already pre-sorted on shore. What I got was different. We were supposed to be called into the water in groups of 2-6 at a time separated by 3-8 seconds. This is more what a time trial start is like. Sadly, the first 50 athletes or so, including the Outlaw, ignored protocol and just went for it. There was a second, smaller group that waited their tiny amount of time. That's when the swim organizers stepped up their blockade game and got the athletes under control, which just so happened to be about 10 feet in front of me. They went to the 2-4 athletes every 3-8 seconds or so. I honestly couldn't figure out how they decided who and how long in between. They were using the force, or something similar. (Note 6: Word on the street is that they abandoned the rolling start protocol even before they made it halfway through the field, when it was clear that they wouldn't get everyone in the water in a timely manner. The race began and ended with a mass swim start, with a rolling start in between. /End Note 6)

As I entered the water, the swim and spotting was perfect. As I made the turn around the first buoy, it was clear that spotting the pathway was more challenging than the view on the shore would have led me to believe. This gives credence to the shortened swim decision. I found myself spotting the kayaks as much as the buoys. The way back into shore was especially difficult to navigate, since there were clearly athletes that had seeded themselves poorly, causing congesting and the need to go around several athletes. Plus, the fog had thickened.

The Garmin had the swim distance at 880 yards for a total time of 11:58. The official results said that my swim time was 11:58. Score 1 for the Banter and his ability to hit the lap button at the appropriate time. Minus 1 point for his inability to swim straight (although I doubt I did an extra 130 yards). Note the Finisher's Pic below and the level of fog.

I'm the guy with his cap already off

That 11:58 was good for 5th in my age group, 63rd amongst men, and 77th overall. Not to shabby.

Tune in later for more exciting action as the Banter takes to the middle of nowhere's version of a bike ride. There's lots more to tell.