Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Triathlon

As I struggled alongside the man to get into my groove while avoiding the rhythmic slap of this hands against the water (and sometimes my face) I methodically attempted to separate our rubber covered bodies flailing in the foamy surf.

My triathlon season wound down with competitions the past two weekends in a row. Both of these triathlons were what is known as the International Distance (1.5Km swim, 40Km Bike, 10Km Run) also known as Olympic Distance (because it is the format used in the Olympics. You might not be aware of that – despite the name’s clue – because it didn’t make NBC’s primetime coverage. Apparently, triathlon is not as captivating as, say, Men’s Synchronized Diving or the “Artistic” Trampoline. The only artistic thing I can think of involving a trampoline would not be broadcast on television during family viewing hours.)

Typically it is not advisable to do two “A-races” in a row, but it was an appropriate way to cap off a season of under-training and over-doing.

I say “A-race” as this refers to an event in which the athlete plans peak performance, following a proper training plan culminating in a taper period.

In my case, A-race meant that I just pushed as hard as I could for the entire time. Not scientific, but darn fun.

The first tri was in Three Rivers, Michigan, the course in and surrounding a quaint lake near that town.

We actually started on somebody’s backyard and the transition area was in a small cul-de-sac’s road; the number of participants small enough to allow this.

I figured for such a small local race, I’d be competing against hicks in overalls and fat-tired mountain bikes. My dreams of a place on the podium soon faded as I saw the sweet tri bikes compete with solid core rear wheels and tricked out with components costing about as much as my entire road bike with clip on aero bars. (I placed 12 out of 13 people in my age group. A fantastic ass-kicking, but with the level of competition, I was satisfied. Hey, at least I wasn’t last!)

The water was clear and cool, the swim course being a large oval out and back. To be so alone in the water was actually a challenge as sighting became difficult and I took a more circuitous route than necessary. At one point, a wave from the Sprint Distance race cut into my course, as they were turning the corner on their shorter out-and-back. I looked up to see a large group of light blue swim caps bobbing in the water, churning in front of me, trying to make the sharp turn and swim back to the shoreline. It was disconcerting, I had been alone for so long, and now I look up to see this group. Did I take a wrong turn or something? My moment of uncertainty was soon replaced with the glee of gliding through this group like a shark through chum (politely, I assure you).

This was a stark contrast to the swim the following weekend at Chicago Accenture (billed as the “world’s largest”). It was horizontal hand-to-hand combat for the entire mile.

The Three Rivers bike was best described in one word: SICK! It was the most technical, hilly ride I’ve ever done. I suppose the “Ski Resort” sign on the course should have been a tip off. I was standing up in the lowest gear barely crawling up one moment and zooming down the other side the next. Down the largest hill, I actually hit 47mpg, the fastest I had ever gone on the bike. It was exhilarating for the most part, but I did clench by buttocks so tightly it was like I was trying to grip the seat for safety.

I felt a tingling sensation (not in my buttocks) and looked up at one point during this decline just in time to see My Love climbing up the same hill on this out-and-back course (she had started in a later wave). I felt even more exhilarated than from the speed.

Chicago’s bike was basically flat with a double loop on the famous Lake Shore Drive. The scenery was fantastic while the road surface was frightening! There were so many people with flat tires, I even saw one guy right in front of me run over a patch of sand (which was a futile attempt by the city to fill a bike eating pothole) and blow his rear tire. I heard the loud pop! complete with hissing white vapor spewing out from the back. Chilling.

The 10K’s on both courses were beautiful, and I was able to run without stopping, even for the water stations (my first time doing so in such a distance). In Chicago, I got to see My Love after the 4 mile turn-around. I was so pleased to see her and receive a boost of much needed energy to get me through the last 2 miles.

She, on the other hand, could not hide her bewilderment and displeasure at the sight of me.

I didn’t take it personally, though, I understood. She was supposed to be “on the other side” of this passing, having started two waves ahead of me.

Near as we could tell, during the race post mortem, I must have passed her unseen in the transition area after the swim. An odd feature of the Chicago triathlon is the quarter mile barefoot run after the swim out to the transition area. All this is done on rough concrete and asphalt. I think they should at least cover the area with pumice stone or the like so we could attempt a nice defoliation during this trot, but, then again, I am most likely in the metrosexual minority on this point.

Anyway, once you get into transition, where all the bikes and running gear are stored, you are faced with an area roughly the size of the entire town of Three Rivers, Michigan.

Normally, My Love is a faster swimmer than I, but her wave was mixed with both women and men, and she had a harder time with the mortal water combat than I, just due to sheer size. The guys don’t give way to the women in this part of the sport, and it is difficult to assess gender anyway with the wetsuits on and all. That was probably the difference in the race. Note: she wants to me to make certain I report that she had a faster run than I did, not only on this race, but also in Three Rivers. Ah, fast women.

As with Three Rivers, I got to cheer her on to the finish and we were both thrilled with the race conditions and our performances.

A fitting end, two races in two weeks, one the world’s largest, one tiny but extremely competitive. Both raced with My Love, and both ending with a smile (and a sweaty kiss =).