Woodlake Race Report

Perhaps I’ve passed the point of no return on this one, but, better late than…… oh what’s the use.  Here’s my race report from the Woodlake Sprint (5/29/10)

Race Morning:

Why do all races seem to start before all the host of heaven have arisen is beyond me, but true to form, this race started at 2:00 am and I had a one hour drive facing me.  I rode with the always reliable servant-leader Kyle Motley and we arrived at race site just as the third competitor pulled in (heady company).  We racked our bikes in ideal spots, readied our transition areas and went for a quick warm-up ride out on the course.  Upon return, I noticed that my carefully staked out spot had been taken.  The Woodlake race is done completely by volunteers in the beautiful Woodlake subdivision in Vass, NC, and, as a result, doesn’t have the volunteer numbers to have assigned racks, so it’s first come, first served.  Apparently, the unknowing individual decided that my shoes, swim stuff, goggles, cap, towel, transition bag, and water bottle were not CLEARLY visible, so they racked their bike in my spot.  I simply removed the bike, placed mine on the rack and gently informed the rather agitated woman that I had staked out my spot since 6:00am.  Things ended well, or as well as they could, and I refocused on the task at hand.

The Swim: 600yds (more like 700yds)

PR swim time, at this event, was a Norwegian whaling vessel-like 13:00 and I went into the swim prepared to do even worse.  My swim training had tailed off in the weeks following the White Lake Half, and I’m entirely certain that even prayer would be in vain, so my expectations were low.  The water was a very nice temp, but was very murky.  I’m pretty sure I saw some lepers bathing and receiving healing on the far shore, but that could have been the early morning haze playing tricks on my eyes.  The pre-swim national anthem was sung by a well meaning lady whose rendition felt like being gouged in the eye with a coat hanger.  As the gun sounded, I was well positioned in the front right and vowing to myself that death was not an option.  At the first turn, I stole a glance around and was shocked to find myself right in the middle of the pack (men 30-under).  I felt pretty good and came out of the water well-placed in my age group and in a respectable 12:04.  Transition 1 was swift (0:56) and I was out onto the bike course.

The Bike: 17.2 miles (more like 18 miles)

I rode out of the subdivision feeling strong and hoping I could make up time on those in my age group that were ahead.  I figured a fast-paced athlete would have finished the swim in 9:00 and I was, thus, three minutes back.  It took approximately 5 minutes before I began to feel very winded.  The White Lake Half event was a mere 3 weeks (1 week of vacation inserted for optimum fattening/losing speed) and my lack of training was becoming more and more evident.  The first climb of the day was not that bad, as climbs go, but I felt as though the lepers who were healed had taken up residents in my lungs and were having a party!!  To make matters worse, there was an “athlete” on my heels that made no attempts to hide the fact that he was blatantly drafting/cheating.  I had to fight to keep my cool and was rewarded, upon reaching the top, when I peaked behind me and saw that I had dropped the cling-on.  I topped out at 40 mph on the descent down and made up a bit of time on those ahead.  By the turnaround, I was in the top 10 of the race, overall.  The only trouble with that previous sentence is found in the word “turnaround.”  If I descended at 40mph, it must have been a big hill (it was) and simple deductive reasoning leads us to our conclusion – that hill must now be climbed.  I reached the base of the hill still comfortably in 8th place, but knowing that it would take something special to make up more time.  Unfortunately, my “Stonewall Jackson Hill Storming” shoes were not the ones I put on, and I took the hill with all the force of Frodo Baggins towards the end of Lord of the Rings when he and Sam almost started making out and death was immanent. I made it back to transition 2 outside of the top 10 and feeling very winded.

The Run: 3 miles

Transition 2 was just as fast as T1 (0:50 or less) and I started on the run hoping that I had done my work on the bike.  I was 40 yards from transition when I was passed by my team mate Caleb Lewis (who was thankfully running as part of a relay).  I decided that I was NOT going to go down without a fight and ran as hard as my penne legs would carry me.  I thought, surely, I remembered the race having mile markers, but deduced after 9 minutes of hard running that if I STILL hadn’t passed mile 1, it was, perhaps, time to die quietly in the woods.  Thankfully, this was precisely the time when trail gave way to pavement and I completed the run course in an uneventful 20:44 for an overall time of 1:23 and change.

The Damage:

16th Place overall triathlon (men and women) and 1st place in my age group.  No PR, on the day, but first time atop the podium, at this race (2nd place best finish).  On the day, I couldn’t complain.

White Lake 70.3 Race Report

May 8, 2010 started at 4:30 am when the first of my three alarms sounded the arrival of race day.  I’d been working towards this moment since January and dreaming of a PR (personal record) of sub-5hrs 16 min and felt that, given the right conditions, I could push my record.

For starters, upon arrival, we were told that the water was a balmy 79 degrees and that our treasured wetsuits/flotation devices were not going to be allowed (or we could choose to wear them and forfeit awards/time/water/any aide – essentially, we would be treated like Mexicans in Arizona).  This threw my plan, a bit, as I am a couple of minutes faster with a wetsuit and there was no way to put on enough fat in an hour to compensate. My swim wave departed third, at 7:10 am, just after the sun had peaked over the tree line.  Even at this early hour, it was quite clear that it was going to be a hot day; the horn sounded and we were off.  I was pushed to the inside of the buoy line by the combination of the current and a large man who had clearly formulated a back up plan for the “no wetsuit” rule.  I reached the first turn in a respectable 0:13 and made the right turn.  The winds had begun to whip the water into a choppy mess and this began to take its tole as I started shipping water in preparation for the hot temps to come.  The conditions all added up to a miserable 46:46.

I entered transition 1 and decided that I was going to keep my attitude positive, control what I could control (my attitude and nutrition), and take what God and the course were going to give me – turns out that was heat and wind.  I headed onto the bike after a rather leisurely 2min 30 sec transition.

The bike began lightning fast.  We had a tailwind that was gusting up to 20mph and that contributed to my average of 22.9 mph at the 20 mile mark.  I caught a number of people in my age group (25-29) before the half-way point.  Once we turned onto NC210, the headwinds started and my tempo began to fade.  I had dropped to 21.6 by the halfway point and was struggling to maintain 19-20 as my overall pace continued to drop.  Once I reached NC53, I was right at 21.5 mph and kept that until I reached the out-and-back stretch and FINALLY had my tail-wind back.  I stretched it out and my overall average began to creep back towards the mid 21 mph frame.  Once back on 53, I maintained 21mph all the way back to the Future Farmers of America in White Lake.  I was quite happy to have achieved my goal of 21mph and my decision to keep my attitude in check was paying off as I felt good despite the howling winds.  It is no exaggeration to say that I saw White Lake part, at one point, and thousands of wilderness creatures crossed on dry land.  I accidentally ran over one such woodland critter, a small snake, at mile 45, but due to my exceptional speed, I emerged unscathed.  As I reached the dismount, I had chalked up a 2:41; equalling my 70.3 bike leg PR from the Patriot’s Half in September 09.

Once back in transition 2, I made a quick change and headed out on the run after only a paltry 1:29.  In my haste, I popped one of the lenses out of my Oakleys and, at the risk of beginning the run looking like the Terminator, handed my glasses to Matt Harmer (my chief support team member, today) who gave me his and I headed out onto the course.

In previous years, we snaked through a neighborhood (with shade), but in a move of pure genius, the event planners decided that an out and back with no shade would be the best course of action.  My first mile was slow (in the 9:00 range), but I was still feeling fresh and positive.  Close friend, David Allen, ran with me, for a bit, to provide support and reminded me to stay within myself and keep my nutrition steady.  I began to dial down the time, and had begun walking 0:15 and 0:30 on each mile as I approached an aide station.  By the time I reached the turn around, it was 2.4 million degrees and my pace had steadily begun to fade.  Miles 7-10 were where I nearly lost the entire race – one mile after the other as I tried Heed, bananas, gels, and endurolytes to try to get my legs back and shoot for that magical 5:16.  David Allen appeared beneath a tree in a Biblical sort of way and offered the advice that I need to make it in, “Drink flat Coke.”  Those three words saved my entire race.  Once the liquid gold began to course through my veins, I was back and finished the race right back at goal pace in an overall time of 5:26.

Once the race was done, I connected with my family, thanked my wonderful support crew, team mates, and friends and headed home.  It was only hours later that I learned I had taken 3rd in my age group and 39th overall.  It was a pleasing and satisfying day.  Next race – May 29th Woodlake NC.  Come lose to me

Boston 5K Race Report

Boston – the runner’s mecca.  Every marathon/endurance runner knows her/his time required to qualify for the prestigious Boston Marathon, mine is 3 hours and 10 minutes, and also knows that in order to race here, it requires something special.  My Dad qualified for the second consecutive year, so I accompanied him to Boston thinking of trying to get a charity slot or run as a bandit (runners who are not registered and just run the course behind the marathoners).  With the charity slots melting away and the prospect of my White Lake 70.3 looming large, I chose the less prestigious Boston Athletic Association 5K (2nd Annual – if that helps the mystique).

My pre-race awe was not helped by the Hynes Convention Center expo – the greatest sporting expo I have ever attended.  As I walked through the throngs of people devouring Boston Marathon gear (they were literally consuming it like senior citizens with discount drugs), I couldn’t help but think “You’re marathon PR is 3:44 – these people can destroy you at a marathon.” So to compensate, I wore my entire collection of Ironman Florida finisher gear, along with my tri-jersey, shorts, and even my race wheel bags tucked under each arm (I was impossible to navigate around in line, but I got plenty of recognition).  To be honest, I wasn’t that proud of the fact that I was just running 5K, while the rest of distance running’s cream of the crop got ready to race on ESPN.

Night before race day, we went to the Union Oyster House, on a friend’s recommendation, and found that the wait was akin to that of the distance between my daughter, Brooklyn’s, meals; 1hr 45 min.  So, we went to eat at the Salty Dog.  Despite it’s foreboding name, they served a more humane fare – seafood, seafood, and boston creme pie.  At my father’s urging, I got something “not so spicy” which turned out to take to my intestines in much the same manner as a bottle of Tabasco.  Once we had “carbo loaded” on some relatively carb-free seafood, we grabbed an ice cream cone (perfect in the 39 degree rain) and headed back to the hotel.  Here’s the best part – the St. Louis Cardinals were engaged in a game with the NYMets with one goal in mind – play a terrible game that would last 7+ hours.  So, I was obliged to watch until well after 10:30 pm.

Race morning greeted me with more seafood, only slightly more digested, and dealing with the opposite end, but I was feeling fast, as was the seafood.  We made our way, on the T, to the race site and I warmed up with 10-15 minute jog/pedestrian dodge. Once all the dignitaries I’ve never heard of were done parading their achievements, the race director’s daughter took the stage to slay “God Bless America.”  She did her duty and left one of our more cherished songs bleeding on Boylston St.  Thankfully, the police Sgt. who sang the Star Spangled Banner took a more humane approach and left ridiculous runs and key changes to Britney Spears and her computer/voice.

I got settled into the 6:00 per mile corral and waited for the gun.  Once it came, I intended to release my jitters/wiggles and get a good jump on the first portion of the race.  However, to my dismay, I found that most of the 9:00 mile group was reading upside down today and meandered into the 6:00 corral where they behaved in much the same manner as a group of happy senior citizens, with their prescription drugs, having a nice time site seeing.  As we rounded onto Park St., the mile 1 marker loomed at the top of a steep hill.  I charged it, but found that I was at 6:42 and nearly threw in the towel, right there.  All that work to duck,dodge, dip, and dodge and I was only at 6:42!?!?!?!  As Park St turned, however, it gave back all that it took, in the form of a gentle down-hill slope.  I tried to distance myself to the far side, forgetting to keep the left turn tangent in mind, and ran the second mile in 6:22.  I was now within touching distance of my goal of sub-20:00 if I could just hold on!!  The trouble was that I had peaked my heart rate during mile 2 – I looked at my split and saw 197, which I CANNOT maintain for 7 minutes.  I backed off a bit before rounding onto Boylston St. at 18 and change.  The sprint to the finish yielded a 20:09 which was my PR by two seconds and an overall finish of 175 out of 5000.  On the day, I was disappointed, but learned a valuable couple of lessons.  1. You can’t fake it when it comes to HR.  You have it or not – if you blow, you can’t keep going that fast. 2. A PR is a PR – as bummed as I was, this was the most difficult 5K course I’ve done, and I ran it faster than any I’ve previously run, so I have to be happy.

Happy running/living/blogging.  Hope you enjoy this and check back for more race reports/thoughts/blogs.

C