I almost scratched this race because I knew I shouldn’t run at race pace to ensure full recovery from Boston. I could claim to take it easy on the run portion, but let’s face it, I wouldn’t. Usually, I get out on the course and the competitor in me makes instant revisions to my “take it easy” plans. Boston itself is a case in point of this pattern.
Given my tendencies to ignore intelligent thinking while racing, I figured the smart thing to do would be to skip the race altogether.
After all, I couldn’t start a race knowing I wouldn’t finish it, could I? That would be quitting, wouldn’t it?
Luckily, John helped me to see the situation in a different way. Devilman, with its .8 mile swim, 40.3 mile bike, and 8.8 mile run, is our season opener; it’s the race we use to work out the kinks before the first big “A” race, which this year is Quassy. He reminded me that getting accustomed to swimming in open water, getting kicked and punched by a few hundred of your closest friends is an important part of triathlon success. More importantly, I haven’t had a real on-road test of my cycling fitness yet, and a 40 mile bike race sounded like the perfect time trial.
Those were two really good reasons to start a race, even if I wouldn’t finish. I am SO GLAD I did because 2 out of 3 wasn’t too bad at all.
Since I decided about 5 p.m. the night before the race to do the swim and the bike, I had to scramble to put my stuff together. Every time I prepare for a triathlon, I am reminded of what a gear-heavy sport it is. John and I use a website to help us keep track of all the stuff we need. It allows you to customize your checklist based on what you need. I highly recommend it: http://triathlon.racechecklist.com/.
Since the race was only an hour away and they had packet pick up on race morning, we didn’t have to worry about finding a place to stay overnight. I don’t prefer race morning packet pickup, as it is always a bit chaotic, but that’s how this race director (Pirahna Sports) does every race we’ve ever done with them. So, that’s one we have to live with.
Race morning we were up by 5 a.m. We had smartly packed the car with all of our gear the night before, so we simply had to get dressed and pick up John’s mom, Jeanne, who was coming with us to be head cheerleader and sherpa in charge. It is always wonderful to have such awesome race support–thanks, Jeanne!
As we drove to the race, I started to get into that race mood. Mercifully, I was not very nervous at all. I was excited, but not anxious. That’s a definite switch for me, as triathlons usually create massive loads of anxiety for me. I guess that’s one of the perks of a planned DNF – you don’t have to worry about how you’ll finish!
After picking up our race packets, and preparing our transition area, John and I went into the pond (yes, filthy, gross, disgusting pond) to warm up before the swim. I was in the last wave (as usual) and he was in the second to last wave, so we had plenty of time before the start. The water temperature felt cool at first, but once we got our faces and chests wet, our bodies acclimated to the 66-degree water rather easily.
The Swim.
We got in line to enter the water, which is a slow moving process because they force you to walk over a metal dock to hop into the water, like this:
The waves are only 5 minutes apart, which leaves barely enough time for everyone in the wave to cross this dock, get into the water, and line up. Last year, I was a bit unprepared for how hurried the start would be, and it panicked me. This year, I knew what it would be like, so I kept calm. Weirdly calm.
As I entered the water, I quickly swam over to the in-water start line. I swam to the buoy line, but toward the back of the pack of swimmers. I was going to get into the fray, but not at the front of it. Because we were the last wave, some of the swimmers from the earlier waves were already coming around and starting their second loop–right through the middle of us treading water, waiting for our official start. It was a bit of a sh$t show given how small this pond is. I’d say the waves were not adequately spaced.
The race director yelled, “Go!” through his bull horn, and we were off. I put my face in, starting pulling, and never stopped swimming for 20:29 minutes–an improvement of 7 minutes and 44 seconds off last year’s time. *Note:race results are based on my Garmin, since the official results don’t include DNF losers like me ;).
I got kicked in the face twice, one of those times knocking my goggles off. I slowed just enough to get them back on my face, and I kept going. I was jostled and hustled and swum into. But, I didn’t stop swimming. In the previous two years of triathlon, if I even felt the whisper of a touch, I’d have a slight little freak out. Not this time.
I have to be honest: IT WAS AWESOME! I reached the first buoy, and thought, I’m going to have an epic swim!
I sighted just enough to stay on the buoy line, I concentrated on rhythmic breathing, and I worked a moderate effort. Not easy, not hard. It was an effort I could sustain for a half ironman, and maybe even a full ironman.
This swim was a major surprise to me. Given all of the attention I’ve put into my biking and running, swimming has been mostly an afterthought. I’ve put in the distance in the pool, but swimming hasn’t been my focus. I’ve been doing cialis just what I have to do to ensure that I can make the 2.4 miles in a reasonable time. I really didn’t think I was picking up speed along the way.
I thought wrong!
And, that’s with absolutely zero taper. In fact, the day before the race, I swam 4200 yards and did 1800 of those yards with the paddles. I was hardly fresh.
Suffice to say, this will put a little more float in my flippers next time I hit the pool.
The Bike.
At the beginning of the week, I didn’t think I was racing, so I really hit the bike training hard.
- On Tuesday, I did a tempo ride on the road.
- On Wednesday, I did hills on the CompuTrainer, using the Quassy course.
- On Thursday, I did intervals–one of the hardest interval efforts I’ve done yet.
I had been in the throes of what I’ll call the anti-taper, so I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of a time trial.
I came out of the water and saw Jeanne immediately. I screamed, “Almost 8 minutes faster, baby!!” And then I ran off toward transition for a nice little jaunt on the velo, as John likes to say.
My T1 time is horrendous. After over 3 minutes (to put on bike shoes and a helmet? What the heck am I doing in there?), I was out of transition area and mounting my bike. Repeat to self: I MUST practice this. I MUST practice this. I MUST practice this.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and of course, the wind was blowing about 15 mph, which was not as wicked as it was last year for this race (25 mph sustained, with 40 mph gusts). With 97 feet of elevation gain (can you even measure that little?), the bike course is a flat out-and-back loop that you ride twice. I felt great right from the start, moving at a speedy clip, and spinning steady.
The best part, however, was that I was having fun. I got to say “on your left” 42 times. I counted. I know that makes me sound like a freak, but as I’ve written before, last season was filled with the sounds of other riders announcing their passing presence with, “On your left!” I was determined to keep those shouts to a minium, and give out a few of my own. I did follow up the “on your left” with some words of encouragement as well. For the most part, the other riders were friendly and supportive. (But, I do have a few notes on sportsmanship below…)
Last year when we did this race, I averaged 16.6 miles per hour. I hoped that at a minimum I would do better than this previous effort. At best, I hoped to average 17.5 mph. For most of my longer rides, I’ve been averaging in the low to mid-16s. So, in a race situation, with a medium-long ride, 17.5 seemed reasonable. Apparently, I was having an unreasonable day.
I averaged 18.3 mph. That’s right, people – a 1 followed by an 8!
An eight.
E-I-G-H-T.
I am now commencing to do the happy biking dance. La-la-la-li-la!
I increased my average on this course by 1.7 miles per hour. Moreover, I have not, in any of my on-road training, averaged 18 mph for a ride – no matter how long or short. And, I held this pace for 41 miles, with a 141 bpm heart rate, which is firmly within a zone I could maintain for a half ironman.
Apparently, riding the CompuTrainer to the verge of vomiting has its rewards. I’ve done a lot more indoor riding this year than in the past two years, which has allowed me to maintained focused workouts that are not interruped by stop signs and cross streets. While outdoor riding is important, I will continue with at least two race-specific indoor workouts throughout the rest of this season: hills and intervals. The efforts are paying dividends, and the CompuTrainer is living up to its promise of a 2-4 mph improvement. I’ve got almost 2 mph over last year’s performance, and I’ve only been using the unit since late February.
The best news? It’s only May 8th.
That leaves me with four weeks until Quassy, and a whopping 11 weeks until Lake Placid. Plenty of rides between now and then!
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A few notes on sportsmanship
While I had a fun ride, and enjoyed the day, there were a few things that irked me, most of them dealing with simple sportsmanlike conduct.
Quite a few riders that passed me did not announce their passing presence by saying something–anything. This is just dangerous, people. What does it take to say, “On your left”? No, you don’t have to be nice and say, “Good job,” or “Looking strong.” But safety mandates that you let the rider know you are about to pass them, so they are sure to hold their line until you are safely in front.
Another issue I had was with the large number of riders who were riding on the left, making a safe pass challenging. This situation was especially frustrating given the 4-5 foot shoulder that could be found along the majority of the race course. Um, move to the right, please? Even after saying, “On your left,” many riders stayed where they were, forcing me to ride in the center of the road. Not cool, people!
The last issue is drafting, as if this were a draft-legal race. (It wasn’t.) I saw a few groups people riding together–sometimes in a pack! This was NOT a case of taking a little longer than 15 seconds to make a pass. It was clear cut drafting. The worst part is I saw similar behavior at last year’s Devilman.
With the first two issues, I can believe that a simple lack of knowledge of the rules and etiquette might be the cause. And that is easily addressed. However, with the third, I think it was simply a case of cheating. Given that this was the second year in a row that I witnessed such blatant drafting, I think the race director needs to encourage a stronger USAT presence.
