Sorry, the more I race, the longer my race reports.
As most of you know, to qualify for the Age Group Nationals, you have to come in 1st place or the top 10% for your age group in an Olympic or a Sprint distance. So, by definition, these are the most competitive triathletes, who are accustomed to winning. And this was a particularly tough crowd, because the World’s in 2015 will take place in Chicago — not Beijing or Sydney or some other expensive and arduous trip — so, more people are here in order to qualify for that race next year. So, it’s like a high school valedictorian going to Harvard — EVERYONE was a valedictorian, and suddenly you’re surrounded by other smart, talented people. Now, I’ve come in pretty far off the podium in most my races; I ain’t no superstar; but still, I was surprised to realize how small is the pond in which I’ve been a-swimmin’. I was thrilled to qualify, theoretically ready to be humbled, but kind of thinking i might surprise everybody and actually do well among my peers.
So, getting to Milwaukee the afternoon before the race (and i wish I’d come earlier, for the warmup swim from 11 to 1 pm), I was surrounded by the hubbub, the confident murmur, of people who were both very relaxed and very intense. Like, a bunch of leopards, but with fancy bikes, or lounging around a restaurant to carb-load on pasta instead of attacking a herd of antelope.
Woke up at 4:10 a.m., decided I really should get out of bed, I’d travelled so far and spent money for this race… Shared a cab from the Hilton and got there smack on time – 5:30, when the transition area opened. I had already racked my bike, as required, and so glad I used Race Day Transport to get my beastie there (cheaper than lugging it to and from the airplane and a fraction of the hassle).
People are friendly and the where-you-froms are impressive (Florida, California, Kentucky, Georgia, Seattle…). Measured the distance again to my bike rack, five rows from Swim In and Bike In …
So, the race. Crowded in with the previous wave (pink-swimcapped, 55+ women) waiting to get down the ramp to the dock so I could get IN the water to warm up, and it’s perfect water — 70 degrees, not too warm for the full sleeve wetsuit, the swim is sheltered by breakwaters from the rest of Lake Michigan, we’re hanging out on the dock and referencing age-group era tv shows. And then in the water and moving up to the middle/front of the group for the in-water start and BAM! it’s a moshpit. Which normally happens the first couple of minutes of a race, faster guys trying to get ahead, swimming over or around me, but then I’d normally crawl over or pass the slower guys, but there are very, very few slower guys here. It’s the Nationals. So the moshpit keeps moving, we’re going under a narrow bridge, bumping and getting kicked and grabbing the rubber leg of another wetsuit and drafting off someone’s froth and approaching the first big yellow triangle buoy. And I am trying not to blow all my strength on the swim, trying to be polite and not bother the feet of the guy ahead of me, trying to get into my core and my groove, but imagining that I am going to come in last among this pack of powerhouse capital S Swimmers! Sighted with my head too high, but burrowed down again to swim, get on course, calm down and work. Finished the swim and up the steep slippery ramp and it’s 27:36, a PR by about a minute. But a LOT slower, by some 6 or 7 minutes, than literally most of the guys I’m racing against. This is a different breed of animal – guys who are great at swimming AND biking AND running.
So, run the .2 miles barefoot on concrete in the wetsuit, my right heel NOT hurting (the miracle of adrenaline), stripping off the sleeves as I run, and then along the grass to the end of that 5th rack, and it’s a pretty good transition, but I need to learn to get on the bike barefoot with the bike shoes already cleated in, because that’s what most of the other guys have done. (Opted NOT to take off my GPS watch and put it on the bike because that is TIME! No one else is wasting TIME!) Bikes of guys on my rack are mostly still there (so I beat at least four guys in the swim) and I fumble a little at the beginning to get my cleats in but I am RIDING and I lock in. THIS is my race.
And I pass a few guys, and start keeping track of those in my age group, and I’m up to 14 by the midway point, before I net out to 8 or 9 by the guys who pass me. It’s a flat, fast course, with the only “hills” being two ramps up either side of highway bridge, and I’m in aero position zooming down a highway with only a couple of mildly broken areas (nothing like the rough roads where I train). And even though this is the Nationals, I can still try to catch the guys who left me behind in the swim and at one point two guys try passing me and I won’t let them. But I’m also riding within my range — ok, that guy passed me because he’s keeping up the same high cadence as I am but he’s in a heavier gear and I KNOW I haven’t the power to do that — and at the end of it I’ve finished 24 miles in 1:06, averaging 22.3 MPH, and that is a substantial PR. I mean, that’s FAST.
Transition felt pretty efficient, probably paused too much to make sure I had everything (oh, yeah, the race belt with my number…) but I’m rocking along at 7:20, and then this guy in a bright blue shirt who I’d been leapfrogging on the bike is on my tail, so I run faster, and he starts to pass me, so i run faster, and my second mile is 6:59, and I can’t keep that up, and he passes me and says, angrily, “Why don’t you pick a pace?!” Well, that pisses me off, but I realize he’s right and I need to settle into MY race, but by that time I’ve pushed too hard, and even though I pass the SOB. I’m slowing down to 7:30, then 7:44, and I can’t get the turnover, and I’m thinking that I’m not in pain, the heel is fine, the hip is fine, the back isn’t flaring, but I am So. Damn. Tired. And this is by definition the hardest thing I can do and only my fear of being passed by that guy who taunted me (and who actually apologized to me at the finish line!) stops me from walking. And a woman on the sideline, who must be a coach, quietly says “use your arms more” and she’s right, I’ve forgotten to use my elbows, and I remember my mantras, and I get that sensation of being picked up under the armpits by a gust of wind and the last mile is not so bad and I sprint the last .2 miles and pass another guy who had passed me moments before and I AM DONE! 46:07, averaging 7:24 minutes/mile, which is slower than my best run in an Olympic (7:10s) and I wish I’d had the power to do better, or at least the discipline to have gone slower and stayed a steady pace. But I’ve crossed the finished line and I am done.
So my results as far as standings were less than the average, and a far cry from the first 25 necessary to get on the USAT team (ok, that was unrealistic) or from the top third (also unrealistic) but I had hoped to get in the top half (which was realistic) and came in, instead, at 114/193 for the AG, and that’s the top 59%. 1263/3067 overall, top 41%. (Ironic symmetry, eh? Once again showing that the older guys do disproportionately well.)
But my personal results were stellar: 2:24:57, almost a 7-minute PR, and that’s when I realized I had a great race. I enjoyed most of it, I crushed the bike course, and actually got faster (in comparison with my age group) with each leg: 135th in the swim, 106th for the bike, 100th for the run.
So many – probably, a majority – of those folks who came from all over the country were DISAPPOINTED, and at first I was, as well, and that’s crazy! By definition, this is the cream of the crop, and our average is very, very high. We’re just not accustomed to coming in so far away from the podium. But that can’t be the reason for racing. Everyone is shadowed by their demons, everyone is worried about the next faster guy/gal. I have to swim/bike/run MY race (especially the swim!), battle MY demons, and enjoy the thrill of pushing harder than I ever did before. Room for improvement, sure, but I ran my best race, ever, inspired by the speed of the extraordinary athletes around me, and I was at The Nationals.
What’s next? Deal me in.
-Mark
Mark S. Kaufman
Kaufman & Kahn, LLP
747 Third Avenue, 32nd Floor
New York, NY 10017
(212) 293-5556