Race Report Blog

Author: mktriguy

  • The Lighthouse Swim – Sept. 10, 2023

    This was a bucket list challenge: a three-mile swim across the Hudson River. The Lighthouse Swim begins in Nyack, NY and exits in Sleepy Hollow, NY. I literally learned to swim long distance to do this event. But between hosting a bar mitzvah, breaking a foot, and bad weather, I had tried 5 times to get to the starting line. THIS was the year I was going to DO it.

    Lucked out two weeks before the event: as I was leaving the pool at the JCC in Tarrytown, the aptly-named Sara Swan (whom I hadn’t met before) asked if I was doing the Lighthouse Swim, and said she and some other friends would be training in the Hudson during the 10 days the JCC pool was closed. So, I met with her, Alex(andra), Jason Poure (who didn’t do this event but was training for the New York 70.3) at beaches on the Hudson five or six times to get acclimated.

    With Jason and Alex at the Tarrytown pool, a morning when we couldn’t get into the beach – and just as well, the river had white caps!
    And are days later, with Sara and Jason, another day at the beach!

    Good opportunity to experience bad things: at the end of one swim, my calves cramped and I had to “limp” my way in with breast stroke — so I had to prepare for that possibility.

    Weather reports predicted torrential rain for the night before the Swim (which would have created nasty water from the runoff) and thunderstorms in the morning (which would have canceled the event, for fear of giving new meaning to “diehard commitment”) but neither occurred. And for the first time in 14 years, I got on the bus and it actually took us from Sleepy Hollow to the dock in Nyack! Chatted with some Serious Swimmers, including Dale all the way from Kansas City (“…Missouri! We hate Kansas!”).

    Nyack!

    I knew that after 40 minutes, I’d be cold, and I expected the 3.2 miles to take me 2:10 hours (based on my mediocre speeds during our open water training days: 2:23 min/100 yards). So I wore a wetsuit (along with only 10 others of the 80 swimmers). Dan Fingleton, terrific marathoner from the Hastings Running Group, had volunteered among the kayakers – and we had a kayaker for every two swimmers. (“Couldn’t get much safer, Mom”.)

    A lot of dedicated volunteers made this possible. *Photo by kayaker Dan Fingleton

    I waited on the dock and we went in waves – “slowest first”, but without any estimated pace.  Sara and I walked up in the fourth wave, and we slipped off the dock into the warm water (73 degrees or so).  

    Sara and I waited for the wave to start… “Where’s the second buoy?”

    Started up strong, but decided that this was something I was going to survive, not race.  The goal was to get to the other side without cramping or at least without needing assistance.  The sight buoys anchored along the route were pretty frequent and helpful.  More so were the two rows of kayakers — so I could have just sighted looking at the kayak next to me (whoops! If I can see this guy, I’m turning my head too much!).  At one point, one of the kayakers was in between the rows of the other boats so I couldn’t see the buoy, and I must have made some noise because she eagerly said “do you need some help?” And I said, “no, I want you out of my way!” 

    One at a time, my right foot cramped; then my left calf; then my right calf. Each time I caught it early, didn’t give in to the temptation to do breast stroke (I had learned that made it worse) and instead focused on my abs; somehow, that forced me to stop kicking from my knees, and the cramps went away.

    In the last third — where I could see I was next to the last two towers of the Tappan Zee Bridge (I refuse to call it the Governor Mario Cuomo Bridge!) — I stopped to shout “Woot woot!” Because I was in the middle of the Hudson River, that’s why. Just before the end, I could SEE the lighthouse, OMG, almost there! and started going straight for the beach, but the kayaker next to me said “they want us to go north to that buoy” so I grumpily followed directions, and a good thing — others who went “straight” for that inflatable finish line ended up being pushed down river by the current and had to swim north again. One guy had to be pulled in, because a barge arrived, and he was too close to get out of the way safely.

    Bottom line: I finished it!

    14 years in the making!

    Final time was 1:24 (and final distance was 4,000 yards, or 2.3 miles, rather than 3.2 miles as I had expected), 2:07 min/100 yards — faster pace than I expected. Very happy to have achieved this one — and now that I’ve done it, I’ll can do it again, with lesss trepidation.

    And ten minutes after the last swimmer got out, it started to rain — hard enough to eliminate visibility!

    Rain – after we finished!

    I also swam to raise money for Feed Westchester. The support from some VERY generous friends put me among the top fundraisers (for which I received an insulated coffee mug labeled THE LIGHTHOUSE SWIM). PLUS I won a raffle (I never win raffles!) and won a free month at the JCC in Tarrytown — where I had met the core group of these friendly, strong swimmers.

  • Litchfield Hills Triathlon – July 8, 2023

    Got up at 3:15 a.m. to leave at 4:15 to arrive at West Hartford, Connecticut by 6 a.m. (Surprise: Litchfield is only 1:30 drive from home, but Litchfield Hills are 1:45 hour away….) Had prepared EVERYTHING the night before, and had time for 5-10 minutes of PT for the bursitis in my hips just before driving. Had considered sleeping in, not feeling ready or pumped up for this race, but as long as I was awake and as long as I was driving… might as well do it.

    Nice, friendly people volunteering and racing. “General seating” on grabbing a place to rack the bike, but found a place on two slots from the end of the row (easy to find) and near a garbage can and fence (easy to leave my oversized gear bag).

    Race Director Mark Wilson preaching to the choir before the race began…

    The swim: Lots of jostling – only three mass wave starts (men under 40, men over 40 and over, women and relay teams – remember this detail for the end of the blog…) – so it was hard to find clean water. On the other hand, easy to draft off someone the first loop (out of the water to run across the beach after the first loop was challenging — hard to walk let alone run!) and beginning of the second loop. Finally got into a rhythm and enjoyed the water (short sleeve wetsuit was fine, won’t ever listen to that stupid Monster Lake fisherman’s website about water temperatures for various lakes – they had reported 64 degrees!). But whenever I relaxed I had to remember to stay smooth but work harder, this is a race! Apparently I didn’t remember enough: my speed dropped from 1:48 min/100 yds to 2:05, ultimately averaging to 1:54 min/100. (Coach Steve had predicted 1:55. The guy’s good with numbers…). Finished the 0.9 mile swim in 31:25.

    Transition 1 included a long run along a rocky dirt path. I tried to take off my wetsuit sitting down on the bench where I had left my shoes. Big mistake: gotta stand up and step on the suit leg I’m removing. Not sure how much time that cost. And then run/walking the 1/4 mile to transition (heart rate through the roof / walk to get HR under control…). T1 in 6:18.

    Bike, as advertised, started with screaming downhills and rolling hills for the first 15 miles, then up! up! up! for the remaining 10. My 5-mile intervals told the story: 21.6 mph, 25.7 mph (!), 19.2, 18.4… then 12.3 mph for the last ascent. Got into leap-frogging with Doug Casey, nice guy I had met on the line to the outhouses before the race: I repeatedly passed him on the flats and downhills (reaching, um, 49 mph, which I only learned after the race, fortunately), he passed me on the uphills, and as noted, the ride ended going uphill… Truly sharing the road with traffic – van turned right slightly ahead of me! Big trucks slowing down in the middle of the route!

    Good news is bursitis in my hip scarcely flared up (apparently PT is helping) but adductors felt tired early on, and my wattage/speed dropped towards the end even at moments of flat road. 1,340 feet of elevation over the 24.8 mile (40 km) course. Finished in 1:14:36; average speed: 18.9 mph, avg. power: 197 watts. Not bad on a tough course.

    All I want to do is FINISH, take home my participant’s medal, and sleep…

    Run (walk!) on the grass to transition, and probably would have been faster changing to running gear if I hadn’t been panting so much. Some mixed feelings when I saw a guy who had passed me on the bike with “62 [years old]” on his calf getting into transition a few feet ahead of me…. Maybe I’m chasing him, maybe he’s chasing me… T1 in 2:21.

    Hard to rev up and get moving into the run, and knew it would be rough: the race ended mostly uphill. Even when we started running the early downhills I knew this was going to be another race like Kingston’s last year, where I felt I had to earn each and every mile. Really, ideal weather — warm but almost entirely shaded. Rest stops every mile had “barrels” to dispense into cups — not enough volunteers, I guess, to hand out the water. Off in the distance was Doug (who kept and increased the lead he took on the bike; let it go, he’s not my age group) and then he was gone… Another guy way ahead I thought was in my age group seemed too far to catch as well. Oh, well.

    Doug Casey took 3rd for his 55-59 Age Group — a most gracious bunny to chase, even if I couldn’t catch him.

    I just tried to maintain my speed and ended up picking off the younger runners who were within reach, counting those who passed me and those I passed — netting out at 11 racers. (I could not catch that young woman with the pony tail for the life of me, but that big guy who took a break at every water stop finally lost his mojo at mile 5…).

    Once I realized that however hard I ran, my ranking at the end of the race was likely already sealed, it was hard to push harder. The temptation to take it easy on the uphills was tremendous, but this was MY race, going as fast as I was able, checking in and feeling whether I could push harder, just focus on that nearby mailbox, now the tree a little farther down the road, OMG I’m at mile 5 and what feels like immediately after I turn the corner and for once the Finish Line appears earlier than I expected. (And my Garmin says I was right: the run is only 5.6 miles, not 6.2.) Finished in 47:20, which apparently translated to 8:31 min/mile. (Steve had predicted 8:30… Damn, he’s good.)

    Bottom line: 2:42:12, 2/13 for Age Group, 48/179 OA. Not my fastest, but not my slowest either, and felt fine for this challenging course.

    Second Place for Age Group

    But especially humbling: First place overall was my age group – 64-year old, legendary Bill Schumann in 2:11:43 (!), beating 2nd place (30-34 AG) by one second! The guy who came in second didn’t even know he hadn’t won until after he finished — because Bill had been in the second wave of men who started the swim 3 minutes after the younger men’s first wave! And if that weren’t humbling enough, Rick Klutey, the guy who took first place for our 60-64 age group (since overall podium finishers don’t also win their age groups), finished 7th overall in 2:18:15. Yes, 1st place AG was 24 minutes ahead of me.

    Among the participants: training buddy and neighbor Jason Poure, here relaxing after the race

    Well, the metrics didn’t matter to me during the race, and I’ll stand by my new attitude: did the best I could on that day, felt strong, and enjoyed most of the race. “Who could ask for anything more?” Other than asking for… beer.

    Southern Tier, my favorite brand, was a sponsor. Even if they handed out flavors I had never contemplated, any race that serves beer at then Finish Line is a damn good race.

  • Sleepy Hollow Sprint Triathlon – June 18, 2023

    Drove up with racing buddy Alan Golds, walked down from street parking to the Hudson River transition area, lovely community event complete with many first timers (like I was, 11 years ago!) and others chatting that this was their only race, every year.

    Donny, a swim buddy from the JCC, was among the newbies.

    Waited to run into the water, two at a time — thought we’d be self-seeding based on expected finish time or pace, but no such luck, and a lot of thrashing to get around big guys doing breast stroke. Tuned into a new way to improve my catch and got through the 1 km (0.6 mile) river swim feeling confident. A little choppy, maybe a slight headwind before being pushed to shore. Seven big orange buoys made sighting very easy. I expected to swim at 1:48 pace, but official results were better: 14:58 = 1:42 min/100 yards.

    Ran out, stripping off wetsuit near the shore – water lubricating the removal – puffing pretty hard for the run into transition. Looked like one bike in my rack/Age Group was gone (probably the guy who had attached his shoes to his pedals!)… T1 in 3:38.

    Zander Reyna runs into the water…
    And Zander runs out. Finishes 2nd OA in the swim in 12:19, = 1:24 min/100 yd. 1st in Age Group for 50-54; as I’m approaching the finish line, he’s leaving, and shouts “Pick up my medal!”

    Rode as hard as I could – no reason to pace and conserve, it’s a sprint — and was virtually alone for the entire ride. “Either I’m ahead of everybody, or way behind the better swimmers…”. Going through the Regeneron corporate campus I didn’t even see a volunteer and thought “once again, I missed a turn on the bike course!” Wasn’t sure where that “slow down! Slow down!” sharp turn was so was cautious much earlier than necessary — and the turn turned out to be easier to handle than advertised. Bottom line: 35:26 for a 10-mile course = 18.6 mph. Would have liked to be faster on the downhills, but hadn’t trusted the pavement.

    T2 in 1:34. In contrast with the first time I did this race, I did NOT run out of transition still wearing my bike helmet 🙂 … but had to run back a few yards to take my watch off the bike.

    The run was bright, virtually no shade along the riverbank and next to construction and rows of new condos and I felt maxed out from the beginning.

    Passed a few people, none in my age group, but gratifying. My Garmin said I averaged 7:30 min/mile over the 3.1 miles but official results were even better: 22:01, or 7:20 per mile.

    Bottom line: 1:17:38, 2/9 AG (2nd to John Weber, who was the guy who calmly came in 1st to my 2nd place years ago at the local Toughman 70.3). 20/188 OA, so… fast enough to be in 2nd place for 55-59, 50-54, and 45-49. Which was gratifying. AND…. 6 minutes faster than the same race in 2012. Experience IS better than youth, in so many ways.

    With John Weber and… someone else
    With Alan Golds and Tom Andrews — each of us took 2nd in our respective Age Groups!

    And then, with all the kids running to the finish line with their fathers, and the announcer wishing us all a happy Father’s Day, I remembered that this was my first Father’s Day without my Dad. It just sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?

  • Harryman Olympic Triathlon – May 13, 2023

    First race of the year, and I had missed a lot of training because of our family’s losses during the winter. On my drive up to Harriman State Park — all of 30 minutes — I thought about what Coach Steve suggested: since I couldn’t reasonably expect much in the way of a finishing time, I might focus on the process, just checking in along the way how I was feeling and whether I was doing the best I could at that time. Which is really the obvious and best advice for everything else in life. A new attitude for me, frankly.

    Approaching the finish line!

    The race was only 400 people, roughly divided between the Olympic and 70.3 distance, and an odd distance to more easily accommodate the 70.3: 0.6 mile swim (instead of 0.9 mile, but it made it a simple two laps for the longer race); 28 mile bike ride (instead of 24.8 miles, to make two loops = 56 miles), but your standard 6.2 mile run.

    I met some folks racking the bikes including Ryan Farr and Sermet Alver two other members of Coach Steve’s TEAM TRIENDEAVORS!, who found me because the bright red team shirt.

    With Ryan and Sermet, before the race

    I also met the friendly Brian Gurski, and we ended up talking the whole time until the race began. Realized that virtually everyone at this race was younger than I, which confirmed my new definition of middle age: when you keep track of how old OTHER people are.

    At the edge of Lake Welch, the 50+ year old men were the third wave.  A guy at the front shouted out “We’re the more seasoned athletes!”  To which I responded, “You mean, like salt and pepper?” (based on the color of hair and beards).  

    The water’s reported temperature had almost scared me away from racing — 57-61 degrees, according to a lake fishing website — so I had borrowed from Coach Steve a thermal wetsuit, which turned out to be unnecessary and a mistake: unnecessary because the water was probably in the upper sixties (teaching me not to trust an online temperature report that didn’t change during the week, despite warmer air temps), and mistake because I felt like I was a sausage. So, I got into a comfortable swim, but couldn’t push very much, because my arms felt restricted. Checked in: How am I feeling? Like it’s a nice day for a short swim. Lousy results: 23:16 (including the run up the beach), something like a 1:59 min/100 yds. 89/225 Overall.

    Stripped off the suit before I left the beach — the water in the suit being the best lubricant for that purpose — and got through Transition 1 pretty quickly. As I left, a guy shouts out, “Go, Salt n’ Pepper!” T1 in 2:14 — now, 71/224 OA…

    Bike was a very hilly course — 2,500 feet over 28 miles — and although I used to not care about hills because everyone was going to suffer with me, now that I’m 60, I feel it more…. Especially with a new condition: bursitis in my hips, which kicked in at around 20 minutes (rather than waiting until 45 or 60 minutes, back in the salad days…). So, I realized that skipping PT in favor of other training is simply not an option anymore; really, I might skip the workouts in the future in favor of PT, because when my hips are stiff and preventing me from generating power, what’s the point of trying to get stronger? But the good news with this new attitude: rarely do I marvel at the beautiful scenery, dappled sunlight through freshly green trees, chatting with the other slow to medium riders. (At other, longer races I’ve thought, “This is kind of pretty. So what. Everything hurts…”). On the second loop, found myself calling out “on your left, on your left!” Then apologizing when I realized the two folks ahead of me were slowing for that treacherous hairpin turn before climbing again….

    Got through it, enjoying it more than most any other race (the silver lining to the hip pain limiting my wattage output), but another lackluster metric: 1:47 for 28 miles = 15.7 mph. 69/222 OA. Still, wishing I could tell my folks that it was going well…

    Run was hilly too: 960 feet over the 10k. I’m just plugging along, noticing but not judging the pace, breathing hard but getting my heart rate more under control, it’s still pretty (though the pavement is pretty broken up, and I’m mostly staring at pavement) and I plan on cranking it out the last 2 miles but after pausing for the last of water stop my right hamstring starts to cramp up and I realize if I stop I’ll never start again so on we go. Not much left in the tank to get much faster, but i remember that it ends downhill and there’s the inflated FINISH LINE archway, and it’s DONE.

    Run was 53:18 = 8:34 pace (a lot slower than I hoped, but all I could do today).  Bottom line:  3:06:21, which is… 59/222 OA (pretty good for an older guy) and 1st in Age Group (… out of 2 finishers in the 60-64 bracket; I think 2 more guys dropped out; so, it could be worse!)

    … and after!

    Real bottom line? I enjoyed this race more than most, because even though I couldn’t tap into the power/wattage/speed I’ve had in other events, I was in the moment without judgment for virtually all of it. “He CAN be taught.”

    Winning is the only thing. But…

    But also this was the first race after my mother died in January of this year, and my father in March. It was a rough winter. If my mother were alive, she would have been worried all day until I called to tell her I had survived; if my Dad were here, I’d have to tell him again what a triathlon is, and watch him shake his head and say, “Why would you do that?”

    A tree ring for every year, right? Not enough years with my parents.

    .

  • Philadelphia Marathon – November 20, 2022

    Spoiler alert: this was not my fastest marathon, but it was my best one. In control the whole race, an unbelievably constant pace, and after failing by 1 minute to BQ (that is, Qualify for the Boston Marathon) at New Jersey, the first of four prior marathons, in THIS race, I qualified.

    After a week in Miami for the International Trademark Association (INTA) Leadership Conference (including a late night with The Opposition, a rock band of very talented lawyers from around the world), I flew into Philly on Friday before the Sunday race.

    The Opposition, Live in Miami

    Other than rehearsing until midnight Monday and playing until midnight (rather than 1 a.m.!) Tuesday, the INTA conference had been a study in moderation – e.g., napping for an hour Thursday afternoon, because I was Doing a Marathon on Sunday.

    Flew into Philly, registered late afternoon at the Convention Center, got a Beyond Burger instead of waiting until 8:30 pm for a table at the nicer Italian restaurant (crowded with the next day’s half marathoners). On Saturday, had lunch with our nephew Josh at a Korean hot pot restaurant which was AMAZING.

    Korean Hot Pot at the Chubby Cattle. (Josh ate the shrimp, thank you.)

    Leaving Chinatown, I saw a group of 6 African men, slight and mostly short, with one of them peering into his cell phone for directions to wherever they were going to eat — The Professionals! OMG, this was the closest I would ever get to such greatness. I said to the guy with the cell phone, “Good luck! I’ll be watching your backs…”.

    Had to have a FaceTime call with Coach Steve to determine what to wear, because on race day the temperature was dropping to 26 degrees and 21 with the wind chill, so dressed on the warmer side: tights, long sleeve tech shirt, heavyweight tech shirt over that — and two more layers of old clothing I’d take off and leave by the roadside as the race began.

    Setting up the race gear…

    Saturday night pasta dinner with Hastings’ own Dan Fingleton (who ended up running an extraordinary 3:10, a 7-minute PR!) and his friend Elana.  

    Tried to get to the starting area by 6:00, pleased to get there at 6:09. But waited a dangerously long time for security, rushing to find the line of UPS trucks to store dry clothes for after the race, and getting through the portable toilet line (alas, I cheated, pretending to know someone near the head of the line for the toilets) — just in time to rush through the corrals to my assigned section a few minutes before the horn went off at 7:00 a.m. Tight, but sufficient!

    A long wait to get through security…

    I found myself next to two pacers shooting to finish in 3:50, and we could tag along if we wished. I struggled with a range of goals: I had trained to finish in 3 hours, 45 minutes, just to come within spitting distance of the 3:31 I had done in my first marathon. I wanted to look back and not feel that even though the next three races over the years — two in NYC, another in NJ — had been 40 minutes slower, and I had completed two Ironman triathlons, the Marathon was not going to be the distance that kicked my ass. But 3:50 was BQ time for 60-64, and I had backup goals: finishing without losing steam or walking would be achievements as well…

    I stuck with those two pacers. My watch said we were doing 8:35-8:40 min/miles, suggesting they were much faster than the 8:50 we should be doing — but they kept saying we were on target, and as the ever patient and generous running buddy Zander knows, my watch can be wildly inaccurate. When the stick broke in half in the wind and the shorter guy carried it, they were hard to see, but the bigger guy talked a lot and loudly so I followed pretty closely. In the early miles, got acquainted with the group and settled in through Miles 1-7, with great, enthusiastic crowds on Walnut Street, wind at our back as we crossed the Schuykill (“SKOO-gill”) River, feeling ready for the first hill approaching Drexel (having visited Josh 4-5 weeks ago and run 18 miles of the course).

    The 3:50 pacer crew – my kinda people!

    Felt solid but anxious that an old injury would flare up or I wouldn’t get past the 14-mile wall I had run into in the past; ready to back off the hubris of trying to reach my prime goals so I wouldn’t crash and burn like the Brazilian pro in the NYC Marathon, two weeks ago (who took a 2-minute lead but fell apart at Mile 20).

    Failed nutrition was why I had bonked in 2016 and 2017, so I felt crazy but happy to wear a water belt throughout the race: taking 4 gulps of UCAN “superstarch” at 0:45, 1:45 and 2:45, giving it 35 minutes to kick in and last for an hour, with SALTSTICK tablets and HUMA gels on the hour to supplement (and caffeine to give me super powers at 3 hours); and Precision Hydration in the other 10 oz. bottle, sipping it for two hours before I had to fill it at an aid station and pop in another half-tablet (because plain water tasted dissatisfying). Miles 8-12 were the hills going into and around the Zoo’s park, and the pacers were great (“shorten your stride!”) so I picked up my cadence and felt solid but worried, wondering whether the pace was too fast.

    Ted, retired from the military, talked too much around Mile 13 and made me anxious, so I pulled away as we crossed the bridge back to the east side of the river, and I could feel my heart rate was kicking up a the fateful Mile 14 (“feel” because Iwasn’t wearing my heart rate monitor, it had crapped out from a low battery on my last run on Friday in Miami; Miami was so, so long ago…) but I stayed calm (an achievement in itself) and got to Mile 16 feeling strong so I decided to kick it up a little and at Mile 18 thought I would leave the pacers.  

    We’re facing into the wind as I go up the hill towards Manatuck, a hip little street area where we’ll turnaround, and at Mile 20 I was in virgin territory (having only run as far as 18 when I trained) and still feeling solid but cautious.  Whenever my attention wandered, I focused on keeping my cadence up as I got fatigued, and on Gratitude as my mantra.

    Even when I thought I was surging ahead, I stuck with the 3:50 Pacers…

    In Manatuck I thought I was wearing sunglasses because it was a little dim and I realized my eyelashes had frozen, and approaching and rounding the turnaround there were cheering crowds, and a kid with a sign “To Pee or Not to Pee?” to which I said, “Put that sign away!” because I hadn’t thought about it until then, and folks offering cups of beer on the roadside, so close that I could SMELL it. The home stretch of the last 10K, I can handle 10K, wind is in our faces again and thought I was picking up the pace but annoyed to hear people cheering “3:50 Pacers!” Dammit, they were right behind me.

    But this was my race, and I poured on what I had, 5k left, I had gas in the tank, tried to get faster and panting but not as badly as some folks grunting around me, needed to get ahead of them because their pain made me too aware of my own, passing folks who were walking and had obviously started much faster, I’m focusing on form and a mile to go and OMG the wind as we approach the boathouse and there’s the Museum and the finish line is surprisingly near and the crowds are screaming, and I MADE IT, arms raised, feeling blessed, eyes tearing up.

    The Finish Chute!

    Bottom line: 3:48:21 and unbelievably consistent pace throughout the entire race: 8:42 min/mile at 10k, 8:43 at 13.1 miles, 8:43 at 30K, 8:43 at finish. Not the 8:36 pace I had wanted for a 3:45 finish, but still fast enough for the 3:50 that qualifies for Boston (in 2024, maybe, depending on the “discount” they impose to limit the race to 25,000). And the fastest since my first marathon in 2014, a vast 25-minute improvement over the last three marathons. 24/147 AG; 2,811/8,377 OA.

    More importantly, I had been in control the whole race; I hadn’t bonked; I hadn’t walked; and my legs seized up AFTER the race, not during it.  Everything hurts, nothing is injured.  The pain cave wasn’t too dark, and I kind of enjoyed the whole race.

    Coach Steve Redwood at www.TriEndeavors.com had been amazing and patient: after a season of triathlons, we focused on running and building mileage; did strength and cycling once a week, skipping the swims; and he helped me get through mild injuries and regroup with This Race as the goal. I was never more ready for a marathon.

    Now, THAT’S a medal.

    I’m not sure why I do endurance races, but I know I found meaning in this one, and success, not just because of the numeric result and BQ’ing but also because I owned it. Big thanks to Rachel, my long-suffering wife, for being the most supportive person on the planet.

    Rachel prepared my breakfast for race day and left it at Dan’s house…

  • Atlantic City 70.3 – September 10, 2022

    Atlantic City, New Jersey is an interesting place. The glitz of the casinos is within sight but largely apart from the working class, kind of dirty streets with neighborhood restaurants where I stayed the night before the race. (The Tropicana Hotel, where I was going to stay with Kevin and Zander before they bailed out for various unfortunate reasons, was shining its neon through the window of my AirBNB.)

    This was my 10th Half Ironman distance. But after a shin-splint injury and getting over a sore throat had broken up the training, I had only started to feel ready the week before race day.

    “Mandatory pre-race orientation”

    Set alarm for 3:45 a.m. to pack up, fuel up and leave before 5. Seemed crazy early for a 6:45 start, but the race director accurately predicted a 30-minute delay to park (everyone funneling down one narrow road to Bader Field). It was a full moon, and I thought, Lon Chaney (the Wolfman) might have cried out, “Oh, no! I must race again!”

    Transition area – post load-in, pre-race…

    Lots of new athletes, enthusiasm and jitters all around. Lucked out: with my assigned spot almost at the end of the bike rack, I could store my big tri bag between a rack and a garbage can. Slapped on sunscreen for what it would be worth, ate and drank the rest of my morning fuel, and waited in a relatively short line for the portable toilets.

    Despite the race director’s attempt to get athletes to self-seed for the swim, and my dutifully trying to line up with others who expected to do the 1.2 miles in 37 minutes, it didn’t work: we all lined up in one direction behind our estimated time placards, then turned 90 degrees to right and became a disorganized mass walking to the pier. Chatted with strangers, then jumped, waded, swam HARD for the start and tried to find my rhythm.

    The Swim Course

    Conditions were terrific: no wind, 73.5 degrees F water (perfect for a full length wetsuit), and unusually frequent sight buoys (every 100 meters!). But… the water was crowded with swimmers the whole way, in part because of the failed self-seeding; also, the sharp turns at the end of the out-and-back snarled up a lot of people around those big red buoys. And there seemed to be some head current as we crossed the channel, first at the turnaround and then to cross over to the finish line. I later learned (because Coach Steve wisely told me to ignore my swim time until after the race) that I finished 42:30, a dismal 2:12 minute/100 meter pace, but 10/43 for my age group (AG).

    T1 went great: found my row (#3) and my area (almost the end of the rack, across from the Iroman tent), and wetsuit slipped off as if it were lubricated (that spray-on worked!). BUT it took 5:12 minutes because we all had to ride a full mile, across the tarmac of this former airport, to get out of transition. And the bike route didn’t officially start until the road!

    Ride was thankfully uneventful and manageable. The course was so flat, they didn’t even bother to provide an elevation map. Two and ½ weird loops (the charismatic race director told us at orientation, “It’s only two laps. But one of you, I promise, will miss the finish line turn and instead go back into Atlantic City a third time…”; and I swore to myself, “it won’t be me. I’ve paid my dues by missing turns at OTHER races…”).

    The Bike Course was pretty confusing on paper… not so bad live.

    No wind to speak of, despite being along the ocean shore, and kind of cool to zoom along the Atlantic City Expressway in a lane closed to traffic. (“Thank you, officer!”). Started racking up 5-mile laps on the watch in around 15 minutes. So I was tempted to make that personal breakthrough of averaging 20 mph, and also tried to keep within the 165-watt goal Coach Steve had suggested. But the power meter really didn’t work: now that I developed a light, even cadence, the pedals felt less pressure and so recorded ridiculously low wattage (125? 144?). So I had to go by RPE (relative perceived exertion), and I dared not exceed a 7 or 8 on a scale of 10 for fear of Bonking on the Run. So by Mile 45, I realized I’d either have to push harder to make the 20 mph goal, or Stick to the Plan and survive the run.

    I made the more boring but safer choice. Finished the ride in 2:49:55 (=19:78 mph), 16/43 AG. And then, of course, the extra mile ride back to transition. (This was really a 72.3 mile triathlon…). T2 went well (again, a lucky and easy to find spot at almost the end of a rack) and completed in exactly the same time as T1: 5:12 minutes.

    Ah, the run:  by midway through, at noon, it was only 73 degrees and 74% humidity. Not bad at all.  The wooden boardwalk initially was thrilling because there was a bounce to it, but everything started to feel less exciting as the race wore on.  Almost entirely without shade for 13.1 miles.

    The Run Course

    The plan had been to start at 9:00-9:15 minute/mile pace for the first 8 to 10 miles, then pour it on. I did it in reverse: first four miles ranged from 8:35 to 8:58, and it didn’t feel sustainable; in fact, I was ready to quit at Mile 4. So I settled into vowing not to go slower than 9:15, checking my watch, ignoring my heart rate, willing myself not to walk because I’d never start up again. And at that relatively slow pace, I kept plugging at it, taking mild pleasure at counting those I passed (37, I think), but cheating because I didn’t count how many people passed me.

    Mostly it was digging deep, trying to just hold on, pretty certain I couldn’t push faster, maybe I was fighting for 5th place, maybe that guy I’m chasing is in my age group, there’s Paul from my last race who took second place to my first, I gotta beat him, working my way one mile at a time, nothing felt injured but everything hurt, only 3 miles left, 27 minutes isn’t very long; actually, 27 minutes is VERY long, does this route REALLY go up hill a mile before the finish? At least I was ready for the last 50 yards running on the sand and they announced my name and hometown and OMG I finished.

    Stumbled to the surf and stood there knee deep for fear if I sat down I’d not be able to stand and I’d drown there. My heart rate dropped eventually but it felt like I was panting for 45 minutes after the race had ended.

    Eventually got the results:  1:58:44 run (= 9:07 minute/mile), not my fastest by a long shot but 7/43 AG (picking up 9 slots!).  Race total:  5:42:51.  8/43 AG, 440/1692 overall.  (Turns out, Paul beat me, even though my swim, run and transition times were faster — he smoked the bike at 21.5 mph!)

    So, what’s the takeaway? The results are fine, not as dramatic as the podium but a solid performance in a tough crowd. I mean, those of us who are still racing at 60-64 years are pretty serious about racing. I wish I could dig deep without digging into so much discomfort; the memory of this race is not pleasant; but I guess that’s ridiculous, I came to race, and that was everything I owned that day.

    Regardless of the relatively slow pace (relative to what I’ve done in the past), it might be the deepest I’ve gone into the pain cave. I left behind nothing on the race course — except the heels of my running shoes.

  • Hudson Valley Olympic Triathlon, 6/25/2022

    I had to downgrade this race in Kingston, NY from a 70.3 to an Olympic distance. Too much fitness lost to … well, to the demands of work and family.

    Spoiler alert: Made it to the podium

    The 1 hour 40 drive the day before the race for registration was surprisingly refreshing, the world rolling over country roads, and when I warmed up for 20 minutes each of swim, bike, run, I realized I was on vacation for a day. Not a lot of people at this “Alpha Wins” brand race, so I could have come up on race day, but I’d been burnt before by the wait wait wait and rush rush rush. Drove back south for 40 minutes to stay with Richard (whom I’ve known for 28 years, when we lived in the same building in Brooklyn Heights) and the wonderful Stephanie in Newburgh, where we had a simple but just stunning meal of grilled salmon, lots of brown rice and roasted broccoli. And, well, a bit of wine (to which Richard later attributed my success on race day).

    The wonderful Richard Gary and Stephanie Brown

    The 40 minute drive back to Kingston wasn’t terrible, because it wasn’t too early: they started the half and full “Ironman” distance racesbefore the sprint and Olympic, so a 9:15 start enabled me to sleep in to 5:30 a.m. Still, disappointed that I got there just before the 7 a.m. cutoff to the parking lot, only to find the lot was full and I had to turn around and park a mile away, Met the talkative Paul (fellow age grouper: Old Men), and realized, I used to be anxious like that. But not today.

    The swim was gorgeous:  73.5 degree water, perfect for a sleeveless wetsuit, in a lake surrounded by forest.  I had warmed up the day before with one loop around the two-loop course, and felt relaxed, perhaps overly so:  my watch vibrated at 500 yards and I checked to make sure it was working after bumping a guy as we rounded the second buoy, only to learn that I was very, very slow.  Oh, well, I’d had very little time in the pool the last 5 weeks, and I’d have to work a little harder.  Was tempting to quit after one loop, but I hadn’t come this far for a DNF, and I might as well just tough it out.  Bottom line:  32:06 for 0.9 miles, perhaps my slowest ever, but 25/96 OA (over all) on the swim, not too bad.

    A quarter-mile barefoot run over gravel and grass to T1, but surprisingly painless; adrenaline is a beautiful thing.

    View along the bike route

    The bike was two out and backs, each leg the same 6.2 miles, and I dug into it: from the very beginning a guy with gray hair and a black shirt passed me and I thought I’d never catch that fellow age grouper, but I’m just going as hard as I can on THIS day, averaging close to 200 watts with surges over 250 watts up those long rolling hills and tucking into aero to catch up on the downhills. Beautiful scenery, mostly good roads. I later learned it was a hot day in the upper 80s but I really didn’t notice. Last leg of the ride, I leap-frogged with a younger guy in red and the Man in Black (I caught up!) and learned as we got off the bike at T2, “Hey, you’re not anywhere NEAR my age group, are you?” Still, I’d prefer to be chasing a bunny than running from a monster. Bottom line: 1:22:43 finish over the 25 miles, avg. 18.2 mph, and 24/96 overall on the bike.

    Ah, the run: on the one hand, almost entirely shaded on a former rail trail into the woods, so that again, I didn’t notice the heat. In fact, twice we passed an area where it was suddenly COLD; probably some ice caves; I felt like I was in some elvish glen….

    On the other hand, having pushed hard for the relatively short ride, it was tough work from the very beginning; I really felt I was forced to earn each, individual mile. But I counted everyone I passed, each of them younger (by definition!); I couldn’t tell who was on the 70.3, sprint, or my race, but I netted 15 runners (passed by someone who must have taken first place for woman, doing close to 6:00 minute/miles, furious that she’d been stuck behind a pickup truck on the ride). And here comes Paul, the actual age group competition, running towards me a half-mile after I’d done the turnaround, so unless he’s really really fast he’s not going to catch me. Which leaves me with the harder task of running as hard as I can, anyway, even though whatever place I have on the podium is already determined. I try to push harder, pick up cadence, get this DONE, and it’s uncomfortable, even unpleasant, but reach that last mile and am grateful to see and run beneath the big FINISH sign. Bottom line: 50:44 for the 10k, avg. of 8:09 min/mile, and 17/96 OA. Total race time: 2:52:55.

    The participation medal (given to everyone who crosses the finish line…

    Which translates to first place for my age group!  Not only 1st out of 4 for the 60-64 men, but fast enough for 1st for men’s 55-59, 3rd for 50-55, 3rd for 45-49 and 3rd for 40-45.  Take THAT, gravity!

    The First Place medal.

  • Ironman Texas 70.3 — April 3, 2022

    For the Hastings Runners Group, and others with little time and/or short attention spans here is the short version: one of my best Half Ironman races, at least in terms of attitude, control and execution, came in 8/54 AG, and my best finishing time since 2016 (when I was, well, 6 years younger).

    Actual finish time: 5:34:21

    For the rest of you, read on!

    A Half Ironman in Galveston, Texas had seemed like a good idea two years ago, before I opted to defer it three times because of COVID. Winter training hadn’t just been about maintaining because starting in October I had to build from zero (recovering from treating an injury that had prevented me from running). As the day approached, I had some cold feet about schlepping all the way to Houston. (Galveston turns out to be a little over an hour from Houston and a a weekend vacation destination for a folks from there).

    Houses on stilts…

    Everywhere…

    Even this bar, on stilts.

    But like the athletes I met from Boston, Montana and Wisconsin, we all wanted to start racing before May or June, when the water might warm up in our regions.

    Travel was challenging — my flight was canceled, so I hung out at La Guardia Airport for 6 hours.  But I had my laptop and got a lot of work done, and staying zen at the airport actually set the tone for the weekend and the race.  Even after the plane landed at 6:30 pm (a lot later than planned), I had a 40-minute wait for a pre-arranged car rental, but again, it didn’t bother me (and I enjoyed chatting with some folks driving another 5 hours to New Orleans to watch college basketball).  The AirBnb host gave a recommendation for a Tex-Mex restaurant and I got there an hour before it closed. What’s there to worry about?

    Nice cafe for breakfast, checked into the race next morning, picked up my beastie from TriBike Transport. Race evening: got into taking out all gear and clothing arranging my suitcase and tri bag, so I could make a quick getaway straight to the airport if I had to, and my Outrageous Commitment to Detail didn’t bother anyone.

    Morning of the race:  I intended to set my alarm for 3:45, but mistakenly set it for 4:45 — so I was not going to get to transition by 5 am…. But, found I could really get all my nutrition together and get out of the house in an hour. Got to the race site only 45 minutes before transition closed. Didn’t have the time to stress, just set up my area and be the last person out of the portable outhouses.

    The water was unusually calm (last year, I learned, there had been white caps), with a gentle headwind for a short leg out, then 1500 meters with a slight crosswind current (as opposed to the rough n’ tumble Gulf of Mexico, where I declined to swim the day before; I couldn’t cram for this test; whatever training I had completed would have to be enough). The water was also 71 degrees – perfect for a full length wetsuit. Just before the swim, though, part of my wetsuit ripped as i was putting it on.

    My poor wetsuit…

    I wasn’t sure what I’d do if the whole left arm unraveled. I lucked out, the untorn portion stayed intact. And what could I do about it, anyway?

    The race director said we would self-select to start swimming with others who expected to finish the 1.2 mile course at approximately the same time.  But by the time I came out of my late morning start,  the line of athletes waiting to jump off the dock stretched back for blocks along the bay facing the mainland. So the water was pretty crowded the whole way with much slower swimmers. (I later learned — from a woman at the airport who had driven the support “sag wagon” — that spreading out and delaying the swim was on purpose! Slowing down when athletes entered and finished the swim would in turn slow down the rate of athletes getting on their bicycles after the swim and make the bike route less congested; and sure enough, there were only two, self-inflicted accidents, instead of the pile ups of past years). 

    When we finally started, I was relaxed, almost bored from the waiting, rather than my normal jittery “what am I DOING here?”  Instead of starting with all-out sprinting as planned (because I hadn’t warmed up in water; indeed, no one was allowed to do so), I cranked it up comfortably so my heart rate wasn’t out of control.  Swim felt solid –  got into a good rhythm, mostly looking left (my stronger side), passed a lot of people.  Which was challenging in terms of swimming around them but frankly gave me a psychological boost.  

    Finished in 36:52, a 1:55 min./100m pace (which translates to 1:45 min./100 yds).  One of my better swim results for this distance race — and it felt great.  Ran up the exit ramp and legs didn’t cramp up (in contrast with my prior two races).  13/58 for my age group… Self-stripped the wetsuit by the exit while it was wet – a vast improvement in transition time.  T1 in 4:10.

    The 56-mile bike ride was a challenging exercise in self-restraint:  Coach Steve (at www.TriEndevors.com) had made me agree to ride at around 165 watts, and not to exceed 180 watts, and THIS race I was going to Do the Best I Could Today rather than bonking on the run from trying to take the bike too fast.  He predicted I’d average 19.9 mph (what is this magic algorithm, Steve?).  With the wind behind us the first half (on a very straight out and back mostly along the water – very pretty), I was comfortably flying at 23-24 mph.  

    The shore was pretty but nothing to block the wind…

    Ah, but the ride back of course was into the wind, so by mile 30, I was doing 17 or 18 mph. My heart rate was steady in the low 120s (an indicator of not bonking), but my legs ached from the effort of staying on top of the aero bars: first my left hip (dammit, I had promised myself I would do clamshell exercises every day to build up those muscles and avoid this particular pain), then my quads, then my glutes. But I had to stay aero the whole time, because whenever I got up briefly to get nutrition or re-fill my water torpedo, my wattage (and therefore effort) jumped up 10-15 watts, just from taking on the wind resistance. So, suffer. The 3-hour indoor sessions on the trainer all winter actually prepared me for this type of race: flat and straight. (But no Netflix when riding on the road, of course). Bottom line: 2:52:46, average of 19.37 mph. (Well done, Steve. How are you at handicapping horses and the stock market?) 17/58 for my AG. T2 in 2:14. (My transitions were only 5 seconds slower than the AG winner – who finished in a blistering 4:50 hours.)

    The run (13.1 miles) was another victory over my desire to Go. Fast. Now. The plan was to run 9:30 to 10 minutes per mile, or keep my heart rate below 143 bpm, whichever was faster. (If that makes any sense.). But running off the bike, with my Fast Shoes and their springy carbon-plate inserts (am I overcompensating? You betcha), and my adductors aching from riding that horse for almost 3 hours, I stumbled into 9:00 minute miles. Again and again. And I’m trying to slow down when I peak over 143 bpm, honestly, because I want this to be the Best I Could Do Today, and I don’t want the run to collapse like I experienced during Ironman Florida 70.3 in April 2019 or the New England 70.3 in August 2021. But the 9-minute pace just felt like I was jogging, and if I tried to go any slower I’d be walking, and I was NOT going to join all those people who were walking this extraordinarily intricate, but well-marked, three-loop course.

    This is the run course. Are you kidding me?

    Steve and I had discussed my starting to get faster at mile 8 or 10, and I didn’t feel ready at 8, but at the 10 mile marker I took off, ignoring the watch and a coach (total stranger, giving encouragement to whoever would listen) said, “There you go! Now he’s racing.” And another coach shouted out a mile later, “Look at that stride.” Man, all those runs with Zander and Dietmar, pushing the envelope, really paid off. And my pace dropped from 9:01 at Mile 9, to 8:51 at Mile 10, 8:38 at Mile 11, 8:43 at mile 12, and 8:36 at Mile 13, and the last 1/10th of a mile at an 8:08 pace. I was flat out. Everything hurt but nothing was injured and I was in the moment, working as hard as I could.

    Finished the half marathon in 1:58:22, at an 8:53 min/mile average pace— a solid 10 minutes faster than predicted.  (Like an old-fashioned elementary school report card:  “Exceeds expectations.”). And finished the race in 5:34:21 hours. And came in 8/54 for my age group (yes, a jump of 9 slots from the ride!), 535/1,518 for men, 638/2,122 overall.

    The participation medal. But very glad to have participated.

    The bottom line: it was the Best I Could Do Today, and attained in a relaxed, zen-like attitude. (With an extra hour’s sleep.). I could get used to this lifestyle.

  • Toughman Olympic Aquabike – September 25, 2021

    Dawn at Lake Welch, Harriman State Park, NY.*

    It is much harder to write about the races that don’t end on or close to the podium, and to find victory in them anyway.  

    I had downgraded first from the Toughman 70.3 triathlon to the Olympic distance (because weddings and other family travels had prevented sufficient training), and then from the Olympic triathlon to the Olympic aquabike (because I have hernias that suddenly flared up and told me that I can’t run; this is what it means to listen to the body…). So, finding that I could still swim and bike without a problem, I was lucky to find that Toughman provided a swim/bike option. 

    It’s just as well that race day pickup was prohibited because Friday’s check-in was the most disorganized cluster I’ve ever known.  When we arrived at 2:30, there were 10 people ahead of us; we didn’t finish until an hour later, when at least 30 people were waiting! I recognized a referee from other local races who muttered, “This has been a rough week, today…”  

    * To add insult to injury, and consistent with the disorganized check-in, there were no photos or results posted for the Aquabike after the race! (Luckily, I grabbed results from the tracking app…)

    Race day itself, I learned that Aquabike is a THING, especially at this so-called national championship event (for which you could register without qualifying at an earlier race). While I had assumed that most participants would be, like me, downgrading because of a running injury, I was sadly mistaken. Some guys waiting at the starting area had travelled from New Hampshire, Indiana, and Florida for this race. THIS was their sport. They were SERIOUS swimmers (“how fast do you expect to swim?” “Oh, in open water, I can only do around 1:14 min/100 yards”) and apparently strong cyclists as well.

    The lake is beautiful, and it’s a mass start from the beach. Horn goes off, we run in, and I’ve got a good line on the 5 buoys going out, short turn, 5 buoys coming back. Despite a race official telling me the day before that the water was 68 degrees (“yeah, that’s what it is historically”), it felt like a beautiful 73-75! So the full sleeve wetsuit was almost too warm. Swim felt strong – I had improved my stroke and was enjoying an efficient pull — but apparently I settled into a comfortable rather than a challenging pace. Finished the 1.5 km/0.9 miles in 28:19 (that is, 1:50 min./100 yds.) Meh. (5 days later, on a relaxed recovery swim in the pool, I averaged 1:48). I really need more killer instinct on the swim… But here’s improvement: Legs didn’t cramp up coming out of the water! And yes, the guy who did first place in my age group did it at 1:14 min/100 m.

    T1 in 2:44; was toying with arm warmers, but adrenaline masked the chill and left them behind.

    The ride was gorgeous, though rough road, and hilly – but I knew the hills from riding the course with Alan Gold two weeks earlier, getting lost, and then driving it. (He was racing the Olympic tri – and later on race day would WIN FOR HIS AGE GROUP beating 2nd place by 0:21 seconds! GOOOOOOO, ALAN!). I decided my goal was just to do ride as hard as I could, since I wasn’t pacing for a run afterwards; a 9 or 10 RPE (relative perceived exertion). And I passed quite a few people to start, keeping my wattage around 220. But whoever came out of the water 8-10 minutes earlier wasn’t waiting for me, and then the triathlon racers started to pass me. Mostly younger; a man and a woman crested a hill with me and then going downhill passed out of sight, jockeying for position; how did they go so fast? I finally passed a guy with “70 [years old]” written on his calf; I said, “You’re killing it!”; he said, “I come from good stock.” Tried harder to make sure I at least beat him…

    Ultimately finished the ride in 1:21:05 (= 18.6 mph). Despite my efforts! Bottom line: finished the race in 1:52:07; 11/11th for AG, 34/63 male, 42/109 overall. Meh!

    So on the one hand, it’s obviously disappointing to rank so poorly. On the other hand, the racing felt good, I had fun (without taking it easy), was competing with some stellar guys who apparently focus on this sport, and didn’t have the edge I normally have by being able to catch up on the run. What the heck, I did another race, it’s the end of the season, and I’m getting hernia surgery next week. Next year will be better!

  • Rev3 New England 70.3 – August 8, 2021

    Ah, August 8, 2021 in Webster, Mass. was a long time ago, but failing to take time to grieve prevents one from letting go. Among the good, bad and the ugly, this was bad and ugly. So it will be short!

    Great to travel with Kevin Carlsten.  Highlight of the weekend was dinner (outdoors on a beach) and my sitting in with a guitar player (since I had my sax with me, having gotten it repaired on the way to the race site).  

    The 1.2 mile swim was solid.  Seeded myself for 40 minutes, finished faster.  Legs cramped on the way out of the water, but didn’t fall.  Improvement!

    Bike started strong, but a cop directed me to take a wrong turn, so I rode 2 miles extra including a thrilling downhill until turning around only when I got to a 5-way intersection with no signs and no volunteers — and there was my downfall:  I thought if I pushed hard, i could make up for that 6 minute difference (no, dummy, it’s 12 minutes).  I should have given up on “THE PODIUM” and just stuck with Coach Steve’s plan of averaging 190 watts. So tried to go fast and ultimately tanked on the bike; Kevin (doing the Olympic distance and starting 20 minutes after me) passes before I finish the first loop; I get off the bike and I’m toast before starting the run.

    And the run!  The course consists of out and back, but ducking into three or four neighborhoods off the side, in and out EACH TIME you pass the entrance.  I am starting okay, but by mile 4 have slowed down, and towards the end a volunteer says “only 1 mile to go!” And my Garmin says I’ve only run 9.5 on a 13.1 mile run.  I am about to give up, but I’ve sacrificed a week of vacation with Rachel for this race, I am not going to get a DNF (did not finish).  So I turn around, go in and out of the nearest loop, and finish (and because I didn’t pass all the timing mats, the race director asked me to confirm that my Garmin said “13 miles” for the run).  

    Swim: 38:40 (2:00 min/100m); T1: 2:43; Bike: 3:21 (16.7 mph); T2:  2:10; Run:  2:18:02 (10:33 min/mile), final time:  6:22:35.   Oy, vey.  5 out of 8 for AG, 63/ __ male, 84/138 OA.

    So, this was just a terrible experience all around, with terrible results and painful, as well.  But the weather was wonderful!  What’s not to like?