Race Report Blog

Author: mktriguy

  • Toughman Half (70.3), Croton on Hudson, New York – 9/8/13

    Good news is, I got 8 1/2 hours sleep Friday night.  I needed it, because the night before the race, after dutifully leaving our town’s annual music festival to load up on pasta and going to bed by 9 (listening, alas, to fabulous music that travelled from the festival to my bedroom a mile away), I awoke at 12:19 a.m., saying goodnight to my 17-year old (who just got home, of course) and never got back to sleep.  Armed with 3 hours sleep, I decided my body knew what to do, but I would have to be careful with depending on a fuzzy brain.

    Got to transition as it opened at 5 a.m.  Had racked my bike the day before, took off baggies over the handle bars, etc., and pondered with the pliers I had brought to deal with that gunk on the bottom of the frame almost rubbing against the front derailleur.  Turns out, it’s not gunk, it’s a metal plate attached to, but twisted away from, the frame.  Went to bike repair tent, where the guy slowly changed a couple of tires (doesn’t he know transition closes soon?), started removing the cranks, and banged at the crank shaft with a wooden handle (unable to find a rubber mallet) before I rescued my Beastie from potential dents.  (Hastings Velo bike shop, here I come!)

    So.  Not the relaxed commencement I had planned.  Still, remained remarkably unruffled.  (And the bike performed problem free).

    Chose to swim in the longsleeve wetsuit ‘cuz it’s faster even if my transition is slower (practicing its removal the night before, a terrible way to prepare for bed, but nice to discuss the problem with my 13-year old).   Got in a very short warmup in the water, but enough to feel relieved.  Bravely went to the middle/front of the corral, next to my friendly nemesis Scott Schiffer (age group competitor), and ran into the water.

    Started with minimal panic — a new pattern for me. Ran for a buoy or two, as I knew from watching the first wave of Tough Teen racers that the water was too shallow to swim.  The running ramped up my heart rate, but swam until I got a groove.  Drafted a little off the guys ahead of me, but either they were too slow and I touched their feet (sorry!) or they were the big fish that got away.  Alternating sides every 3rd breath went out the window – I’m breathing every stroke, and sighting a lot to see the Big Yellow Buoy ahead of me.  Rounded the buoy with only minimal exhaustion, zoomed to shore (thankful for the report, at least, that we had a helpful current), finished in 24:25.  (Full disclosure:  someone told me that his Garmin indicated it was a short swim — only 0.9 miles, not 1.2.  Well, that’s an advantage we all shared.)

    Ran pretty well to my bike; had to sit down to get off the damn wetsuit, but decent transition (2:43), and most of the other bikes in my bike rack (age grouped) were still there – a good sign.

    For the bike: Goal was to stay in heart rate Zone 2, no higher, or Coach Debi said I’d lose substantial time on the run.  Ate half a Powerbar (chew, chew, pant, chew), part of the Coach’s rigorous nutrition plan, as promised.  But a sleep-deprived mental screw up: I had left the non-caffeine gel with my running gear, or dropped it, so I would have to stretch them out over the ride.  (I now calculate that between the 4 gels on the bike, 5-6 shot blocks and a gel or two on the run, I took in 240 mg of caffeine. That’s almost 5 double espressos. Yes, Debi, gels have 35 mg, and shot blocks have 50 mg for every 3 blocks.   And I normally drink decaf….)   No cadence detector on the Garmin (hadn’t checked after the bike repair guy molested my Beastie), and the heart rate wasn’t working (as I had experimented before lending a spare strap to Jenn).  No worries, I had another HRM on my watch (like my Dad with his identical twin, I seem to have a spare of everything), so I’m checking my wrist every few moments for 3 hours. And I have an idea of what 90+ rpm feels like by this time.

    Around 20 minutes into the ride realized that the Garmin hadn’t been re-set from my last workout, two days ago, and I don’t remember how far I rode. (That sleep deprivation…)  Felt OK, passing some people, getting passed by younger guys, staying within Z2, keeping my RPMs high.  But getting tired.  So when I called out at the southern turnaround “what mile is this?!” and one guy said, “I dunno, 25% of the course, maybe 13 miles” (he was wrong, it was really 18 to 20 – dammit, volunteers should KNOW where they are!), I freaked out. Well, calmly. But I hadn’t realized how FAR 56 miles was going to be.  I mean, when I’m at the end of the 25 miles for an Olympic, fine, that was fun, but how was I going to survive another 36+ miles of this?

    Those long rolling hills started feeling longer and longer. At the cement section of the highway (closed to traffic), scored for winter traction and expansion, I really felt the side wind against my “aero” wheels.   Won a match of leap frog with a 59-year old, but a Pyrrhic victory…  I’d like to say I was focussing on the low heart rate, but I don’t think I could have spun my legs any faster.  I know that’s true, because when Ron the Mouth (who rides with the Hastings gang on Sundays – and is in my age group) passed me yelling “I made up the lost time!” I sure tried to pass him.  (Although I remembered that he was not going to run, so why should I care?)  What did spur me on was passing some guy, who yelled “Where the f— did you come from, Mark?”  to which I responded “Where the f— do you think you’re going, Scott?”  So I got back on the game.  Almost crashed at the very end of the course — narrow, jogging lane pathway into the park, sharp turns suddenly shaded, I actually had to pop out of my cleats after I avoided running into a wall, but managed to avoid twisting my ankle as I had done on a training ride.  Bottom line:  biked in 3:02. I had been shooting for 3:00. Fine with me.

    T2 was smooth, and changed into my New Racing Flats.  Coach Debi said they had sliced off time on cousin Rob Falk’s races, so I had practiced.  Saw the wonderful Rachel on the way out from transition (“Hey, Baby!”) and off we go onto the run.

    Here, the goal was to stay in a heart rate zone 10 clicks above my average on the bike for 4 miles, then to pass as many people as i could.  The concrete bridge out of Croton Point Park seemed pretty damn long, and really, every mile marker seemed farther away than the one before. The course took us through Cortlandt Manor, with beautiful forested roads (occasionally interrupted by large gravel sections, which were hard with the flats – felt every darn stone!).  Saw racer nos. 1 and a few minutes later no. 2 come zooming past me in the other direction.  OMG, the winner finished in 4:01.  After mentally pausing to admire such speed (and youth!), I dug into soft wooded paths and a switch-back up up up hill section going to the Croton Dam (damn!); it was just like ascending to the Parc Royal in Montreal, and I survived that casual jog; this was just another one, right?

    And after reaching beautiful, waterfalling reservoir and starting down down down, I hit the moment that I learned something about myself, as Drew Ahkao predicted in our epic pep talk:  I started thinking,”ooh, maybe I’ll make the podium, I don’t see anyone in my age group” or “Oh, it will be so great to see Rachel at the finish line”  or “I bet they have Capt. Lawrence beer after the race”.  And then I thought, “Shmuck!  That’s the end!  You’re not there, you’re here!  So:  Check out the crack in the road. That’s a long crack.  Must be tough winters here…  Check out that manhole cover.  There’s a whole sewer system down there. Miraculous…”  And I stayed PRESENT.  And I ran in the present.  And I ran a little faster “right now.”

    I kept worrying that Scott would catch up to me (he had been right behind me at the end of bike) but I work better at chasing than being chased.  So I cranked it up and started counting the folks I passed, and the folks that passed me.  By the end of the race, I think I was net 11 (including 3 guys who passed me but were doing a relay), after losing to one tough woman who inspired me to speed up but just wouldn’t quit.  Quite the thrill to pass Hastings hero Tom Andrews (“nice pace, Mark!”) and even Jenn Sheppard –their overall times were faster, of course, but only by a couple of minutes!  The last few miles were longer and longer (in fact, I never saw a sign for Mile 11, I think), and I had a little left in the tank to run hard the last half mile.

    Toughman Half, 2013- finish line
    Toughman Half, 2013- finish line

    Got to the finish line and broke my goal of 5:30, finishing in 5:26:25, including a 1:55  half marathon.   5th out of 40 in my age group, 133 out of 460 overall.  Not bad for my first 70.3, and only 15 months ago after my first sprint triathlon.  Early morning biking partner Ben Clifford pointed out: “if you plotted your races on a graph…”  Yeah, I hate to admit it, there’s a trajectory here.

    I’ll be back for more.

  • NYC Triathlon, 7/14/13

    I was really pleased with my results at the NYC Triathlon yesterday, despite the 90 degree heat, 88% humidity and recovering from spraining my ankle 6 weeks earlier.  I even managed to have fun (for most of it).

    NYC Triathlon, biking past the GW Bridge
    NYC Triathlon, biking past the GW Bridge

     

    The swim was much better than expected.  While waiting on shore started a new method:  standing in place and doing a “cha cha” to feel the hip rotation.  Our wave started at around 7:45 a.m. – and the current, I was told, only gets better as the morning progresses. Jumped off the 4-foot high barge with 12-15 guys at a time – much less jockeying for position and scrambling over rubberized bodies than the mass starts at most races.  I managed to start slow and calm – a huge victory.  Swam a mile in only 18 minutes – but that was with current in the Hudson.  (They say that a bag of Dorritos did the swim in 22 minutes.) Best part was realizing I was the only white swimcap, and passing silver swim caps, then greens, then pinks… !

    Crazy transition – running 1/3 mile over pavement, barefoot, wetsuit dangling from waist down, to midway in park area.  Was very ginger to protect that ankle, but still managed to run it.  I was the second bike out of the rack, and none of the guys I had met pre-race were there yet.

    Frankly, I knew my run would suck, so I just poured everything I had into the bike.  Never before did I appreciate that the West Side Drive has rolling hills.  And pavement ties that make aero bars a cautious exercise.  And the bike was much faster than I’ve ever done before – 25 miles in 1:12, a full 19 minutes faster than my best race (among my prior two Olympic-length races); moving up from an average of 19 mph to 20.5 mph.  It’s probably because I’ve been training and now using aero bars clipped onto my roadbike.  (Used them in last race, in May, but a cleat got stuck in the pedal at mile 18…)

    But also, borrowed an aero helmet (thanks again, Bill Logan!), which at least forced me to stay tucked in or it would slow me down.  Lastly, on the ride I realized that I could pour that second bottle of rocket fuel (I mean, sports drink) through the hole in the fabric covered top of the sippy cup (oh, THAT’S what it’s for!), and continue to keep the focus on the pavement ahead.

    Transition 2 could have been better – stopped too long to drink more, which I should have done towards the end of the ride.

    Surprisingly, the run didn’t hurt my ankle at all, but it was still painfully long because of heat, humidity and the fact that, after recovering from the ankle, I’ve only been running for one or two weeks.  I was aiming not to start with my heart rate through the roof (the main thing Coach Debi told me to do) and I really was trying to pitter patter up the hill out of Riverside Park, but the first mile average was 160 bpm (sorry, Debi…), and the last mile average was 180 – peaking at 189.  (Um, am I lucky to be standing here?)  Still, I was shooting for 9:30 or maybe 9 minute miles, and averaged 8:20 for the split and 8:40 by the end – 53 minutes and change.  The last mile, I remembered the drill where I pretend there’s a string coming from my core/belly button, and it’s pulling me forward.  That was like a secret weapon to pull out of my arsenal.

     

    Overall: 2:31:44.  15th out of 159 in my age group (“Old Men”), so by ONE place, I made my ridiculous, fantasy goal of being in the top 10%.  Also, 442/3411 overall, which is top 13%, and I am pretty damn happy about all that.  I just wish the run had ended at mile 2…  Even assuming the with-current swim doesn’t count at all (though I was probably “faster” than in prior races), the much faster bike and the slower run came out to a 2 minute PR for Olympic distance (that is, over my prior two, in September ’12 and May ‘13).

     

    Doggamn, I did the NYC Tri.  And I gave myself over to being “patient” (or at least, acting patient) with recovery from the sprain. (Thank you, Cousin Rob, for preaching the take it slow approach.) Why, two or three weeks ago I was running/walking 1’/3’!  And last week, running/walking  3’ / 0:30.  I hadn’t done more than 3 consecutive miles in the week before the race.  But I did enough to avoid further injury.  That’s something to enjoy.

     

    Most of all, thanks to my stunning wife for putting up with me and for being at the Finish Line, I had a real person to look forward to reaching at the end of a grueling race.  Plus, she signed up me for a Swedish Institute massage.  That, 3 coconut waters (Zico was a sponsor) and two bottles of sports drink made recovery the best ever.  I didn’t even nap after the race.

     

    Next, my first Toughman Half (70.3) in early September.  Hope I can get enough running in before then – and Croton on Hudson is very hilly…

     

  • NYC Half Marathon – 3/17/2013

    For my first Half Marathon, I was shooting for 7:45 min miles (which would result in a 1:42 race), based on my November 10k of 1:42 (6:52 minute miles). Had been freaked out that I had been assigned to the 3rd of 23 corrals for the start.  (“What expected time did I TELL them?”)  Full of worries re: dressing warm enough, parking in NYC, proper fuel.   (Coach Debi prefers chewy Shot Bloks, I’ve been training with slurpy gels.  “What should I doooo?”)

    Weather predictions ranged from mid-40s (week before race) to freezing (night before race).  Week before, bought extra layers at Salvation Army, and 5 minutes before the race threw them in a bin for Goodwill.  (Now, that’s efficient recycling.)  Turns out, perfectly dressed for the weather:  all wicking tri shorts, tights, tee and long-sleeved shirts, running hat, and gloves (which at mile 6 I stuffed into the pouch in my brand! new! race belt!  and took out again when the wind picked up at mile 9).

    Kept HR mostly to Z2 in first mile. Drank and chewed a few sips at each water station (“chewed” because water was frozen on the top of each cup!  Did I mention it was 30 degrees when we started?)  Hammer brand caffeine gels at miles 4 and 8; no way was I eating again at mile 12, despite Debi’s advice.

    Periodically checked GPS watch to confirm whether I was running sub-8 minute miles.  Damn thing fluctuated as it found the satellites, but I assumed it was accurate if I was running slow and didn’t care if it showed stunningly better pace.  Plus, whenever I had to pick up the pace, I checked whether I was having fun.  THAT was what made the race a great opportunity.

    Probably like most other people:  I carry a lot of (psychological) baggage all the time.  And I realized that to run a Half Marathon, I can’t carry baggage.  So I kept taking notes:  It’s beautiful, I’m running the middle of Times Square, and the West Side Drive, people are cheering, bands are playing (badly but with gusto and in the COLD), I’m lucky to be alive and to be able to do this and to be here.  So, THAT’s the success story.

    Plus, I had a damn good finishing time, worthy of bragging rights and better than I expected:  1:39:24, an average of 7:36 minute miles and 2 1/2 minutes FASTER than my goal.  That’s icing on the cake.  So, no. 1,782 out of 15,000, and top 1/3 for my age group.  Each 5k almost exactly the same 23:25 (other than 0:20 slower at 20k).  Racing for one year, 50 years old and another PR .

    And, for Coach Debi’s portfolio:  once again proving that training at Z1 (low heart rate) DOES work.  Vindication for those long, slow runs!

  • Westchester Jarden Olympic Triathlon – 9/23/12

    My First Olympic

    Without going into all the background to my doing my first two sprint triathlons this summer ( see “How I Lost My Virginity” – or maybe not, if that was never, uh, disseminated for public reading), suffice to say that I placed 7/28 in AG in the first, 7/41 in my second, and inspired by the gods on high (that is, those mythic Ironmen) I wanted to do similarly in this, my first Olympic distance. The challenge was neither to be struck down for hubris (consistent with the Olympic/Greek gods theme) nor lose sight of doing this for, and competing against, myself.  I’m not really sure why I was doing this, but I wanted to do it the best I could.

    Left Peter’s 50th birthday party at 8:30 the night before, without a drop of those fine single malts, to get up at 3:30 a.m. and eat what coach Debi had recommended (as following her directions since March had proven good results to date), most of which I had tried once during training:  apple sauce with protein powder, a banana and sports drink; plus, a mostly decaf espresso.

    No matter how well I prepare the night before – tri bag packed, 3-week old road bike (oh, baby!) in the car,espresso machine primed – it always takes me an hour to get out the door.  But no problem, I’ve worked that sad reality into the equation, and I’m at Rye Playland for the Jarden Westchester Tri as they open transition.  Body marked with the magic 1336 (in an inspired moment, I determined that 1336 = 6 to the 4th, + 40.  Ah, if I were only 40, that might mean something…), laid out my stuff.  A few bites of my soybean butter and honey sandwich some 2 1/2 hours before race time,  pump fists with buddies Drew and Dave, and chat with neighbors, most pretty seasoned, some nubes like me.

    Big difference with this race: i measured the distance from swim to my bike in transition (a whopping 110 or 120 paces!) and swam a bit before starting time. (Next time: bring everything needed for the race start before warming up for swim, including the disposable water bottle and caffeine gel.  Going back and dropping off my glasses was a drag).  So for the first time, I wasn’t freaked out by the feel of the water and the exertion of swimming.  In fact, it was a gorgeous morning: Long Island Sound was absolutely flat, the water was 72 or 73 degrees, the sun was coming up (ok, directly into our eyes as we squinted for the buoys) and I actually felt ready for this craziness.  Granted, I was literally shivering while I waited (despite the sleeveless wetsuit) but even that was a realistic way to deal with the jitters.

    Wave 12 of 13 was a long time to wait- 8:00 a.m. before we started.. After much worrying abut the infamous mosh pit of this swim, I settled on starting in the second of three rows, close to center.  I reasoned that I was too slow for the first row, but too fast for the back, and as Drew had suggested, it would be better to be crawled over than to do the crawling. Worked out great – scarcely a tussle.  Started off, and it felt like … I was swimming.

    While I struggled with thinking that I might be going the wrong way, or that I was a LOT slower than the surrounding guys, I eventually started passing people in other colored swim caps. (that is, younger athletes from prior waves.) So, blinded by the sun, we took the first buoy (just 400 metrers), then the second (another 200), rounded the third (100 or so) to head straight in towards the towers (just 800 meters).  Really dug into reaching out, scooping into the water ahead of me, pulling smooth , rolling my hips, breathing was relaxed, and it was the first time I felt strong rather than panicked in a race.  Sighting was pretty efficient, except: Curiously, the towers looked different from the water, with an interesting structure beneath them… Turns out, that was the breakwater, and if not for a sardonic kayaker, I had almost swum beyond the entrance to the bay where the finish line awaited!  So, i must have swum an extra 100-200 yds.  As it was, the buoys had to be moved just before the race began, and the course was 1.1 miles.  Finish: 31:38, 24/85 AG, 251/1010 OA.. My fastest mile (Or mile plus A little extra), finally getting some speed from the wetsuit.

    Long run to transition, but managed to slip into those bike shoes no socks and no problem (practice and sticking to game plan worked out).  Without a bento box (next time!) one of my energy gels slipped out of the gaffer’s tape holding them to my bike as I left transition (oh, no!  Penalty? No one saw or cared), but I had two more and I scarcely remembered to finish the second one by the end of the ride.. T1: 2:46, including that long run up from the beach.

    The ride had lots of sharp turns going through the village of Rye, and the police held back traffic wonderfully (“thank you, officer” I panted – one of whom responded, “go! Ride!”) those turns through town were fine on flats and going into uphills, but hairy when we came back as we’re all trying to use the downhill momentum.  One medium, too long climbs, but not very steep (certainly not compared to my side of the County)- the last, on Airport Road, full of broken concrete.

    Called out “on your left” a lot, was only passed by guys with aero bars (next time, clip on bars?), including two guys in my age group (50-54) who I passed, they passed me, etc. At one point I realized that the guy in dark grey and blue was drafting off the guy in red.  The temptation to cheat with them was strong, and then the temptation to yell at them (“gee, I’m new here, are you allowed to draft in triathlonns?”) or at least get their bib numbers.  But alas, shortly after I passed them, I foolishly shifted both gears at once and my chain fell off and got stuck by the crank shaft.  the good news is that I had meticulously cleaned my bike the day before (it feels so respectful of the machine, y’know?) so i was comfortable putting it back on, and it cost me less than a minute or so.  At least, I keep telling myself that because the guy who ultimately placed ahead of me in my age group beat me by 1:04.  HRM strap was slipping, so I adjusted, and it unsnapped; I tucked in my shirt to avoid losing it.  Some scary single lane downhills because riders weren’t getting out of the passing lane, and taking turns too wide, and sometimes we had oncoming trafic in the opposite lane.  I later learned someone actually was hospitalized, and another guy with a torn up shirt from accidents.  Hated to slow down (I really sprinted after that lost chain incident), and too small a finish line/entrance to transition, but managed not to get hurt.  Bottom line: 25 miles, 1:18:30, 19/85 AG, 216/1010 OA

    T2 went well, cashing in on my practicing getting socks and running shoes on.  (If not for my running cap, I might have forgotten to take off my helmet again, like T2 in my first sprint!)

    The run was painful.  Just as it started, my fabulous wife yelled out for me (wow!) and when I turned back on the short loop into the nature presrve, she called out again: “great job! you’re almost done!”. To which I said, “no, but thank you…”  By mile 1.5, I was really ready to stop, thank you. My HRM said I was running at 155 bpm, much higuer than I had trained but seemed acceptable.  but then it leaped to 162 and I thought that I couldn’t sustain that for 4 more miles.  (Debi, we have to talk…) So i slowed down and brought it down to 155, 157, and slugged along, watching that tall guy in my age group with the “Mossman” tri shirt (from a half-Ironman race?) run with me, pass me, and bit by bit get two blocks, then three blocks away… Damn, there goes my bunny. (what will I chase now?).

    Lots of spectators, little kids psasing out cups of water and lookng for high fives; I felt like Scrooge (bah, humbug!) finding them distracting, and only managed to take 2 or 3 sips the whole race. And forget the shot blocks to eat in my back pocket! Ultimately I made it, and managed to have a good kick left for the last, well, 50-100 yds on the grass. Bottom line: 49:40, 8:01 minute miles, 19/85 AG, 221/1010 OA

    Lessons learned:  despite the discomfort of the 10k – and if it was comfortable, I wouldn’t have been working hard enough- I had fun.  Warming up in the water (even if only to freeze while I waited) was more important psychologically than anything else. This was the culmination of my first season of competing in anything.  I want to do more, and I have the potential for more and faster races in the future.

  • How I Lost My Virginity on My First Tri – The Sleepy Hollow Sprint – 6/24/12

    (Warning. This is a long story.)

    Ok, so it was only a sprint — that is, .5 mile swim, 10 mile ride, 3 mile run — but the very brevity of it made it an achievable goal.  It felt pretty small compared to an Ironman, as if it would hardly count, but it was something I knew could do.  Badass cousin Rob Falk inspired me when I cheered him on for his first Ironman in Panama City, Florida lo these 5 or 6 years ago, and that was when I decided to learn to swim. My goal had simply been to be capable of that 2.4 mile initial leg – not fast, just survive, and to glide in the open water without panting then drowning.  But after a few years of doing that, and finding that a lot of the workouts he sent me (as he graduated to Badass Coach Rob) was speed-oriented, it was getting to be time to put it towards a goal.

    I was lucky enough to start working long distance — that is, via the internet, not extreme workouts —  with the amazing coach Debi Bernardes — coach of Coach Rob.  She would be the first to tell you I was more than a little resistant to building up my heart rate base, crawling along in Zone 1 for what, three months? More? “Let me off the leash!”  But in the last few weeks I was getting results. Not sure if I was getting faster, but I was getting faster within Zone 1.  And the 10k I ran two weeks ago was 48:17, 4 minutes faster than the only other 10k I ran 7 or 8 years ago. (Though this 10K certainly lacked any of the self-restraint of training in Zone 1…)

    So, the Sleepy Hollow Sprint takes place a mere 20 minutes due north of where I live, and I managed to schedule my wake up at 4:30 a.m. perfectly. Unfortunately, I did not manage my sleep very well, and even though I went to bed at 9, I was wide awake from 2 to 4.  So, the cell phone was charged, the heart rate monitor/GPS/stop watch was charged, but I was not.  But having spent all of Saturday organizing the tri bag, prepping the morning (decaf) espresso, getting the bike gears and chain as clean as the day I first received it, and napping, I left precisely at 5:30 (ok, 5:31), got there a few minutes before 6, and was among the very first to arrive.  As my wife Rachel would tell you, I have never been early for anything in my life.

    So glad I did it that way — not just Debi’s advice, but the advice of Ray, one of the race organizers who actually led us through a “dry run” of the swim leg of the course two weeks earlier.  (Talk about an organized race!)  Fourth in line to register and get markings (not like one guy who had to find space among his tattoos), set up my gear like in the videos Rob sent me, “flossed” my hamstrings with a lacrosse ball  like Max Bernardes demonstrated, and practiced walking from the Swim Out to my bike with my prescription goggles on — because the race organizers did not, as advertised, have a table for glasses.  Had my first Gel ever as provided by Stan, at Hastings Velo bike shop (the first sample is free, heh, heh….) and water as Coach Debi instructed, so I was pumped up and ready to go by 8 a.m.  Indeed, quietly jumping up and down while I waited for My Race to start.  (Decaf really is best for me….)

    Wave 7 was for 35-39 woman and 45-49 men (probably something poetic and ironic there, but I can’t figure it out),and I started my watch when we got access to the water — because at my practice tri two days earlier, the watch crapped out when I started it in the water, asking “HRM not working.  Do you still want to start?”  The buoys were very large, very orange, and very frequent — 14 of ’em. I noted in the earlier waves that one of the kayakers didn’t know he was drifting, and he told a lead swimmer to change her dead-on course for the buoy to avoid his boat — so I started more in the middle, but towards the front.

    OMG, I wanted to NOT start that race all of a sudden. But the horn blew, and I started with long, strong strokes, focusing on rotating at the hips and enjoying the amazing buoyancy of the sleeveless wetsuit.  My left shoulder, enflamed and requiring physical therapy for two months in the winter/early spring, did not mention any discomfort.  (THAT was an achievement on its own, as I still occasionally wear an ice pack as an accessory during my the  work day.)

    Stayed largely in the lead, or at least didn’t get kicked in the face, and as I rounded that first buoy and headed north up the Hudson I thought (a) the water is pleasantly warm, slightly salty, and apparently not toxic, (b) This pace is OK, I’m pulling strong, I’ve stayed calm enough not to run out of breath, and (c) I’m catching up and passing people in the earlier waves, with their bright pink and green swim caps, occasionally grabbing a leg encased in rubber. One or two guys pass me with the same blue caps, I pass or trail them by a couple of body lengths, but I feel like I’m among peers, not being left in the dust (which, of course in the Hudson, would be sludge).

    By the last third, I’m feeling like I’ve overextended my energy, and wondering whether I’ll need to rest with breast stroke.  My breathing every three strokes has been reduced to one stroke (looking to the right to keep an eye on those buoys) – probably, that contributed to getting tired, but it could just as easily be a symptom.  Around three to five buoys from the end, I feel that the buoys are passing rather slowly — and it occurred to me that maybe there’s a slight current pushing us back, a phenomenon that seldom occurs in the pools where I’ve been training (but there are those goofy contraptions to create a current and turn your bathtub size pool into a lap lane.  Sorry, that actually went through my head while I was racing…)

    But I finally get in sight of the last turn, share a laugh with another guy (“where the hell are we going from here?”) and shoot for the big triangular buoy by the shore.  Amazing volunteers — did I say this was well run? — are warning us to keep floating as we entered water shallow enough to scrape bottom (and scrape I did, bloodying two of my right knuckles), then pulling us a few feet forward onto the rubber mats.  (In past years, people really bloodied up their feet on the rocky shore, I’m told.)  Stumbled up the stairs, and into the transition area.

    Total elapsed time for the swim:  19:41.  Slower than my 31-minute mile in the pool, but not bad.  Rachel later tells me she missed my exit from the water because she simply hadn’t gotten there yet!

    T1 went well — 3:49, certainly can be trimmed — in part because I followed Debi’s advice and actually cut off the last 4 inches or so of my wetsuit, to stop my foot from kept getting entrapped as it did during my wetsuit-removal practice –and because I had pictured it accurately.  Again, nothing like LOTS of early prep time (he said, reminding himself for the future, as it’s SOOO out of character).

    Hopped on the bike, and started uphill.  Mostly, entirely uphill, for the first half.  Gradual, but long — but I had ridden it a few weeks ago, and was ready. Mostly, I passed people; at one point a guy with aero bars passed me, but I later passed him.  (I am not getting aero bars until I have earned them.  I’m not sure how I’ll know it, but that’s my take on the subject.) Had a shot block, alternated water with Cytomax sports drink. (so hard to do with all that uphill, but I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t keep hydrating.)Somewhere along the way I found that my watch was beeping at me and logging a new split every mile, and I realized 10 miles will be over very, very soon. The downhill at the end of the closed highway was sweet, but as Debi Made Me Do It, I pedaled hard on those stretches, hitting 28 mph.

    My goal was to average 18 mph — just faster than the 17.5 I’ve been averaging on the flat bike path – and I just about did it:  29:30 for 10.1 miles.   Uphill at 16-17 mph, downhill at 18-19, with one mile avg at 25.  I simply didn’t know I could do that.  (I had been riding with Stan’s pack on Sundays from Hastings, where I was getting the hang of zooming along,  but had to stop riding with them  in order to stick with the Zone 1 heart rate training.   Me?  Impatient?)  So the bike felt totally in control. a real surprise.

    T2 went well — socks on,  lock laces to enable me slip on my faithful, cheap sneakers,  and done in some 1:30 – and would have run out of Transition a bit encumbered if not for another racer calling out, “Hey!  Your helmet!”  Ran back, swapped it for my DRI-FIT  baseball cap and took out the shot block in my back  shirt pockets.  Foolishly, wanting more energy, I ate one (rather than having the sports drink), and immediately had cramps as I started the run.

    Oh, well.   Slowed down (from a heart rate of 157 bpm to 152 — cranking already in Zone 2, signaling a rapid descent into misery, but at least I slowed down).  Fine and dandy, hitting my 7:30 goal for the first half mile, and then hit the open cracked, heated pavement and treeless parking lot of the former GM facilities. (I later realized that my 7:30 goal was ridiculously ambitious, because it was based on my 7:20 brick or interval workouts — which provided a riding break after each mile sprint, and did not include the first two legs of this tri.)  NOW I wanted those sunglass clip-ons.  It was painful, especially the last two miles, but I focused on feeling the balls of my feet, and leaning forward until I felt I was running from my core.  Mile averages:  8:15, 8:14 and 7:45 (for the last .9 miles).  Damn.  that’s pretty good, for a virgin.

    CROSSED THE FINISH LINE, heard my name announced, and heard my wife cheer.  What a blessing to have her there.

    Bottom line:  course completed in 1:21:37.  53rd overall (in a field of 368), and 7th in my age group. (Which, bizarrely, was 50-54; seems that if my birthday falls during the year of the race, the USAT considers me a year older.)  I feel … awesome.  Tired, old, but awesome.

    Lastly (and sorry if this may offend the irreligious) Rabbi Mara Young was good enough to turn me onto Tefilah HaDerech, the Traveler’s Prayer, after I asked for something apropos of my first race.  During the run, in particular, it was my mantra — in part because it was so hard to remember the first translated word that followed “Bless me, G-d…”, which neatly distracted me from the discomfort of the too bright sun:   Bless me in the “emplacement of my footsteps”.   The rest I mostly paraphrase, as best I could during the run:  May I reach my destination, and protect me from my foes, and bandits, and wild beasts (read: both those within, like the despondency of wondering why I am pushing against my limits, and those without, like the racers against whom I am competing).  I survived, I excelled, I will do more of this triathloning.

    I know this has been rather long, but didn’t want you to remember your first time, too?