Begging Forgiveness

Forgive me reader for I have sinned. It's been almost 2 weeks since my last bike ride.

The last official time I have been on the bike was for the Syracuse 70.3 bike leg. When I racked the ride that day, I had no idea that it would take me so long to get back on the saddle. What's worse is that the next few days aren't looking good either. Allow me to explain.

The first couple of days post-race were easy; I was in a recovery stage anyway. I had planned on a day or two to give the legs a chance to feel better. Granted, research shows that active recovery is more efficient that passive. However, (warning: excuses are ready and abundant) I never actually workout on Day 1. Day 2, I worked (as in my job) then coached after school. We had a match (which we lost). Day 3 saw practice after school. Day 4 was met with a match (which we won) and our school's version of Open House (which, as a high school teacher, is about as big of a waste of time as blogging). Day 5 started a tournament (which we won). It was an overnight deal and I didn't get any sleep until the end of Day 6 when I could have been compared to a walking zombie (biking not advised). Day 7 was a Wife day, since I hadn't really seen her since Day 4.

Here's the thing about coaching a fall sport (now that fall has officially started)... The sun has been limiting available biking time. The weather has been beautiful. I get home from practice around 6:00 pm. Since the sun goes down just before 7, I don't have much time to get on the bike. And, since the weather is nice, I absolutely refuse to get on the trainer. I'd rather not bike than spin in my basement. That attitude will have to change in the near future. But then again, the weather won't be nice in the near future.

As I look ahead, I may be able to get out on Day 14. That would be a Saturday. However, the forecast is for rain, a high of 49º, and moderately high winds. Crappy biking weather. Plus, I am a pansy in cool temperatures on the bike. Who knows? I might actually suck it up and get spinning.

I am racked with guilt about not biking. I see my bike sitting there in the garage, unmoving. It looks at me with big puppy-dog eyes begging for a little Banter time. It still has the race stickers from IMSyr. My wetsuit from the same race is still draped over in an eternal drying rack of carbon fiber. Sometimes I stop and contemplate a ride in an effort to humor it. Most of the time I blow right by without offering any sort of hope.

Pathetic

Here's a depressing thought about biking... I know that the next time I will race my bike in competition will be in/ around 7 months from now. My next A-race is at the end of July, 2012 or about 10 months from now. No wonder that my motivation to propel myself on 2 wheels isn't very high. I have lots of time to sit on the saddle.

In the mean time, I miss biking. I enjoy the monotony of turning my feet in tiny circles at a rate of around 90 rpms. I appreciate the feeling of the wind slicing through my helmet covered hair. I like the feeling of freedom as I am sequestered onto the crappy shoulder of the road while cars pass by within inches of my elbow, honking their horns along the way. I want to feel the adrenaline rush of pushing up a hill in a gear that is significantly larger than my ability. I will have those feelings again. Hopefully soon.

Race Review- Syracuse 70.3 Run

There's something I forgot to tell you in my last post... As I was finishing the 56 mile bike ride around the southeastern suburbia of Syracuse... As I was crossing my legs while attempting to run through transition... As I was finally starting to regain feeling in my temperature numb toes... The first place dude crossed the line. Granted, he started a good 35 minutes ahead of me, but it kinda sucked that I still had 13.1 miles left to run and he was now a 70.3 half-Ironman Champion. Congrats to Bart.

As I started to run, my thoughts drifted back on a couple of racing details. First, I have not made it past mile 8 without significant discomfort. Second, one of the main reasons that I bomb on the run is because of a pacing problem. Third, I had no idea what this course entails. Fourth, I am completely inexperienced at this distance. Translation: I was ready for this.

My HIM goal was to achieve my IM desired pace of 8:30. I wanted to practice this pace and be assured that I could do it. Since the short season, I have been trying to get faster and faster (with marginal success). However, racing long distance is a completely different beast than the nice 5k offered up at the sprint distance races.

The course was sort of lasso shaped. You ran from transition down the handle of the lasso. At the start of the hoop, you turned left and did 2 laps. After your second lap you ran back down the handle of the lasso to the finish line. At one point, you had to stop and wrestle a cow. Don't worry, it wasn't a full grown cow. It was more of an adolescent calf. Regardless, it wasted valuable running time and was much more challenging after the swim and bike. (Granted- I may have delusional around this time.)

I wanted to ensure a good run, which meant focusing on pace and holding back a bit early in the run. Given that I had a goal pace of 8:30 per mile, I had recently been reading up on how to pace these things. The idea is to start out at about 30 seconds faster than your goal pace. In these events, you are most likely to slow down regardless of how you feel. Naturally my first mile out the block was a 7:24. Not very smart. If you are an avid reader, you'd know that this is the story of my life. In my defense, the first mile or so was a bit of a decline.

It was right around the end of the lasso/ mile 1 where I caught Monica. I didn't know it at the time but she would define the rest of my run. I started off our triathlon run-leg relationship with a nice, "I have to believe that you are doing quite well in this race." My words spoken to Monica. I postulated that since I was having a pretty good race, any on the ladies that were in a similar position were front of the female pack. Again, I'm not that smart.

We (Monica and I) ran together for a short distance. Remember that I was not very familiar with the course. Monica took it upon herself to educate me. She told me of the 2 big hills on the course: one at mile 2 and one at mile 3. We had to do these hills twice in the lasso loops. I thanked her for the information and we ran together for quite some time. She asked me if I gunning to beat her. (I was.) I simply responded, "Maybe, but really I am motivated by you." (I was.)

After the first hill, Monica and I ran step to step. When we made it to the second big hill, Monica stopped to walk. I walked during IMLP and hated it. I wanted to run. I trudged up this hill without stopping. See ya later Mon.

Of course, Monica was a competitor. It didn't take her long to catch up. Not only did she catch up, she took the lead. I believe that I was better on the hills. I was going up faster than her. I have a downhill running strength. It seemed that Monica was better on the flats. She was clearly the better runner between miles 7-8 when my pace had slowed to 8:21 and 8:00 respectively. Good paces yes. But not Monica good.

But, my skills seem to be better at the inclines. Further, I seemed to be inspired by the push and pull of gravity. By the time we finished the first incline, I had caught her and were running together again. By the time we hit the 2nd hill, she was walking up the hill and I was still stubborn. Mile 9 dropped to a 7:51. Mile 10 was a 7:29. Mile 11 was 7:31. I was confident that, since the last 2 splits were my fastest since the first mile, Monica was long gone behind me. Wow am I an idiot.

Right around mile 11.5, she passed me. She shouted out words of encouragement as went by. It worked. I was encouraged. I didn't let her get too far ahead and soon we were running side by side like old chums. I was feeling great, which (I am assuming) is the fault of the male ego gene. I had determined that I had to win my personal battle against this amazingly fast and congenial female. At mile 12.5 I had a commanding 30 second lead, which (I am assuming) was because Monica was running out of steam. By mile 13, I was pretty sure that I would finish this 13.1 mile run without walking. I picked up the pace.

When all was said and done, I had a 1:42.41 half marathon. This equates to a 7:50 mile pace; much better than I had hoped/ predicted. My overall time in the race was a 5:08.29. This was good for 18th place in my age group. I was 106th place with the pros and 75th without. I had a race that I could be proud of.

On a neutral note, I had indeed beaten Monica. I only know this because I finished ahead of her and waited gallantly at the finish for her to finish. She deserved my gratitude and I gave it to her. I didn't pay attention to my time versus hers. I really don't pay attention to such things. People who do so are generally egotistically, male chauvinistic pigs. They have no respect for the fairer gender, especially when they base their self-worth off of beating girls. So, I have no idea that I had beaten all of the non-professional ladies in this race minus one. Not a single clue. Knowing such things would make me less of a person. Plus, Monica was a significantly larger winner than me. She was 3rd place female. Not age group. Overall (if you discount the pros, which I do). She qualified for the 2012 World Championship 70.3 in Vegas. She has already qualified for Kona (a feat that has been relegated to my dreams). As I hypothesized at the beginning of the run/ post, Monica was indeed doing well in this race. She is a great triathlete and I had the pleasure of running with her for much of the race.

I have been redeemed. My swim was slower than expected. My bike was spot on. My run was about 4 minutes slower than my open half marathon at the beginning of the season. When I got done with the race and analyzed my performance, exactly 3 words came to mind. "I kicked ass!"

Will I do this race again next year? Unsure. There is a rumor that Syracuse 70.3 will be moved up in the season. They are contemplating June or July. Since I have committed to Ironman Lake Placid 2012, this might be an ideal tune-up race or a too-close-to-the-big-day-to-race situation. If they decide to keep it in mid-September, the odds of me repeating will greatly increase.

Race Review- Syracuse 70.3 Bike

I need to apologize to both all of you who were waiting anxiously for the bike post. Unlike during the summer, I have this thing called a job which seems to take up blogging time. I know, I need to set my priorities. I will try to be better in the future.

Not only has this job thing taken me away from my writing, it has put a huge damper in my training. I seem to find myself down about 50 hours per week in which I cannot train. Gross. Thus far in the month of September I have only been on my bicycle a total of 6 times. Two of the six were in races. One was a 6 mile warm-up just to check the gearing on my bike before the Syracuse 70.3. So, here we are more than 3 weeks into the month of September and I have trained exactly 3 times. I certainly cannot use 'too fatigued' as an excuse for bad performance this time.

I was hoping to get in a race goal pace of 20 mph. I started the multi-sport season off with that goal so there's really no reason I shouldn't end on that goal. The only problem is that I have never accomplished 20+ mph in a race greater than 25 miles. And, to continue the list of 'you are an idiot goal setter' is that I have struggled historically on the hills. Syracuse was surprisingly hilly. Take a look at the hill profile.

The Garmin reports over 2200 feet of climbing in a 56 mile course. In comparison, Lake Placid has about 2700 feet of climbing over the same distance (which you do twice to complete that race). In IMLP, my overall bike pace was just over 18 mph. Not bad but not anywhere near 20.

As you can see, the race started out with a little bit of rolling terrain. Then you went up. And up. And after it flattened out a little bit, you went up some more. This trend continued for about 12 miles. It was around that time when I noticed I was a good 7 minutes behind my goal pace. My legs were tired from hilling. With the temperature having climbed into the low 50s (up from the mid 40s if you recall from my swim post), my feet were rather numb.

One of the reasons I think that my IMLP race did not go as well as planned was a nutrition and hydration problem. I wanted to fix that. I was making sure to take in adequate fluids, roughly 20 ounces per hour. I wanted to ensure that I had enough calories while not overdoing it. I had a 350 calorie bottle of sports drink, 4 fig newtons (about 200 kc), and 3 gels (about 300 calories). My nutrition plan was to use half of the sports drink early in the race on the hilly portion during the first hour. After the course flattens out, I was going to switch to the fig newtons at a rate of 2 figs per 30 minutes. In the last third of the race, I was going to finish off the sports drink. The gels were a back up plan in case I wanted more calories or struggled in eating the cookies. I executed the plan perfectly, did not need the gels, and did not have any GI problems.

That's not to say that there weren't any issues on the bike. One of my problems in this sport is the lack of ability to plan for the race conditions. For example, if the temperature were to get hotter, obviously I'm gonna need more fluid. Using that sage philosophy, the converse should also be true. In cooler temperatures, I should dial down my fluid intake. I know that now. On race day? Not so much (literally and figuratively). The bladder started talking to me about mile 20. By mile 35, I was definitely racing under pressure. By mile 45, I started to contemplate my urinary options. The only viable choices went as follows:

1. Suck it up. Transition is only 11 miles, or roughly 30 minutes, out
2. Pull over at a convenient location, take care of business, and get on with the race
3. Pee while riding

The problem with option 1 was the Pressure: Time ratio. With every passing minute, the pressure increased exponentially. I was pretty sure that 30 minutes was going to exceed the expansion limits of my bladder. Option 2, in my opinion, was the worst option. It is a clear violation of USAT rules and I don't like to stop during a race for non-emergency type reasons (although, this one was getting dangerously close to emergency). Option 3 is not as much of a problem for me as it is for many people. Given the copious amount of sweat my body generates during a race, sweat that is by definition laced with urea, an extra 2 cups of smelly liquid is not much of an issue. I am generous enough to my fellow competitors to 'wash' off the excess with a fair amount of clean water, leaving my leg actually cleaner than I started. Plus, it was cold outside and I was pretty sure that the warm liquid would be refreshing in an awkward sort of way.

In the end, I picked option 1. As I said before, option 2 was completely out. You wanna know what held me back from option 3? My socks. That's right, I was wearing socks. Triathlon is a summer sport and my feet appreciate the sockless feeling while biking. However, HIM Syracuse was not sporting summer-like temps and my feet do not appreciate cool temps while biking. I wore socks. One caveat of this additional layer of foot coverings is their absorptive properties. When given a couple of cups of noxious liquid, they are apt to hold roughly 75% by volume (despite the wicking claim of the product's fabric). Most of that juice is bound to end up in one of the 2 sides making me unequally squishly. That thought alone elected option 1 as the better choice.

As the race progressed, I made exactly one more important observation: I was a better climber than Rory. He was in my age group. On the flats (not that Syracuse is wrought with many flats), Rory would pass my by. However, once the terrain slanted upwards, I'd fly right on by. We'd flipped flopped nearly 15 times on this venture. I ended up beating him to transition. It didn't matter. He beat me to the finish line by 4 minutes. When you look at our comparative run times, he only ran 2 minutes faster than me. What happened to the other 2 minutes? Option 1, that's what happened.

I made it back to transition holding in the piddle. I racked my bike and put on my running shoes, over clean socks mind you. Then, I went backwards in transition... to the porta-potty, the one one the left. Option 1 had consequences. Warning- Anatomically correct, yet uncormfortable details forecoming: After spending all that time in aero-position, my urethra, in the area connecting the bladder and the exit shaft had compressed itself to 1/10th of its normal size. Pressure and flow were compromised. For an evacuation that I would have expected to take no less that 45 seconds, I was delayed. I was wonderfully delayed. See you later Rory.


Here's the thing: I took exactly 2 pictures at the race- both of them of the potty. This was possibly the greatest traveling human waste receptacle that I have ever used. I am a pseudo expert on this topic, since these things are commonplace in the race world and I have frequented many. Pre-race gastrointestinal rituals require, at times, multiple deposits and these are the systems of choice by most race directors. Most of the PPs are small, disgusting stinkholes in which spending more than 17 seconds would seem an eternity. At HIM Syracuse, they contracted the best. Score one for the WTC! Upon entering, you are greeted with the pleasant scent of potpourri, as opposed to that other stuff. There was a portrait depicting a swimmer, biker, and a runner (click to enlarge). There were craft paper flowers to accent the background scent. If you look closely, you'll see an orange glow near the end bottom of the bowl. They actually had a cushy welcome mat upon entering. There was even a cup holder to store your beverage, should you be stupid enough to bring one in. They thought of everything.

So, I am 2/3rds away from my second A-race of the season and I stopped to admire the facilities. Granted, it took longer than expected. Up until this point, I had been having a great race. My bike time was a 2:46:40 which equates to roughly 19.99 mph. Close enough for me.  This gave me an 18th place in my age group. I was clearly not dehydrated. My stomach felt fine. And my time goals were within a respected standard deviation away from perfect. Lurking ahead is a 13.1 mile run. In IMLP, I ran out of juice at mile 8. I have historically not had a spectacular great experience at distance running. In every attempt, I have had a less than spectacular performance. Could I break the streak? Stay tuned...

Race Review- Syracuse 70.3 Swim

This was my second A-race of the 2011 season. The first A didn't go so well and I needed a redemption race (mostly for personal self-esteem). Ironman Syracuse 70.3 seemed like a good fit into my schedule. It's at a good time of year. It's a good distance. I felt ready.

Pre-Race
The last time I have done a half-Iron distance race was back in 2005. And by last time, it was also my first time. I did the Musselman, nearly collapsed in the 90º+ heat, walked a bunch, and said, "Yup, I'll do an Ironman." I signed up for IM Lake Placid and haven't done the half-distance since. This certainly isn't the most intelligent way to get IronDistance ready but I'm not claiming to be an intelligent guy.

When I do IMLP, I start planning almost a full year in advance. I need to develop a training plan. I need lodging. I start thinking about last year's plan and make changes in hopes for improvement. I signed up for Syracuse about 4 weeks ahead of schedule. I had no plan (I can't remember much from 2005 let alone my race experience). I made a room reservation on the Thursday before the gun. This A-race has a completely different feel.

One reason that there are very few triathlons in the Western NY area after Labor Day can be blamed on the temperate climate. As the sun makes its way towards sticking its hot pointy noise at the equator, it inadvertently steals heat from the north. There is some residual heat which doesn't normally make an appearance until afternoon. The morning, however, is a different story. The sunrise temperature was a blustery 44º F. A little colder and I'd have to drive home and cover my tomato plants. Instead, I was preparing to shed my clothes and go for a swim. Again, I'm not claiming to be an intelligent guy.

To prove my idiocy further, I have been having a string of pea-brained moments before my races. In the last race, I had forgotten to bring my cap, goggles, and timing chip. This time, I had left half of my race day nutrition in the car. This isn't so bad until you realize that the car was about a third of a mile away from my bike. Fortunately, I was slated to start in the 9th wave, roughly 45 minutes after transition had closed. I had time.

Having already made the trek once this morning, I got to walk back to pick up 3 packets of gel and one bottle of water. Weighted down with an additional 300 calories and 20 ounces of fluid, I got to repeat the rocky path for the third time this morning completing the mile walking warm-up in sub-arctic temperatures. A nice volunteer turned her back as I negotiated my way towards my bike to deposit my plunder and my race day was ready to start.

The Swim
The swim course was featured a 2 point turn. To complete the 1.2 mile voyage, we first had to travel about 600 yards to the first buoy. We were heading north and the sun was on the right, my breathing side. Stroke, breath, squint. Repeat. With a nice fog misting off the lake's surface, the light never reached its full blinding potential. I had 2 main challenges in this portion of the race. First, I was searching for feet to pace/ draft. After about a hundred yards, it was obvious that I had picked someone adequate but not outstanding. Since I am neither intelligent nor patient, I jumped feet and sped up in search for a more worthy draft. Second, even though we were five minutes behind the 8th wave, it didn't take me and the other lead swimmers too long to catch the lag swimmers. I can't normally swim straight in a pool with guiding lines. Now, I added slalom style swimming to avoid triathletes as I stroked past.

At the first buoy, we made a 90º right hand turn to head directly into the sun. The mist served to only help the sun hide the course markers. I struggled to find my way for the roughly 400 yards from one turn buoy to the next. Based on the body language of the other swimmers, I wasn't the only one. The lifeguards on duty were doing a fantastic job of keeping us safe but they were horrible tour guides. They mostly kept to themselves.

After arriving at the next and final turn buoy, I made another 90º turn. This proved to be a mistake. The turn should have been closer to 120º to angle back to the swim finish. I found this out about 100 yards later. With 900 yards (just over a half mile left), I slowly made my way back to the line. Now, the path was littered with swimmers from at least 3 waves in front of mine, as evidenced by their swim cap colors. One thing I did not see was anyone with my color. I was either leading my wave or stuck in no-man's-land.

It turned out to be the latter. I was around 28 minutes in the first lap at Lake Placid. Given that the race is shorter in distance and I am in better swimming shape than I was 8 weeks ago, I was anticipating at least a sub-30 minute swim. Alas, it wasn't in the cards. I hopped onto the shore and noticed 2 things. First, the temperature hadn't increased much in the past half hour. Cold settled on to my wet body like lint on velcro.

Second, I glanced up at the race clock. It was ticking steadily and showing 1:06 with some change. Having started 35 minutes later than the lead wave, I calculated my swim time at 31 minutes. I ran to the strippers who peeled off my wetsuit with significantly more efficiency I could muster solo. Mostly naked, I made the 0.18 mile run through the arctic tundra known as the parking lot from the beach to the transition area (which did not increase my warmth factor).  Officially, my time was 31:18, good enough for 6th in my age group.

Except for a little bit slower than expected time, I had no major issues with the swim. I would advise the race organizers to go counterclockwise in the swim, thus negating the sun factor for a majority of the race. The water was calm. Despite the wave swim, the amount of physical bumping and grinding was at a minimum. This was a pretty good venue for a triathlon swim.

Stay tuned for the next post: Syracuse 70.3- Bike Review.