I had mixed feelings about running this one. Having focused on swimming most of the summer to prepare for crossing the Hudson River, this was my only race after that Big Swim. Not a lot of running in these legs, but not a long course, either. Friday night, I walked into a curb with enough force that I flew across the sidewalk and into a hedge, and hurt my right foot’s big toe. I assumed I wouldn’t be able to run the next day, so went out with Rachel and friends for a beer and got to bed late. But next morning, the toe was not sprained or broken, and it felt okay in running shoes. So, I would have another excuse for any mediocre results: I’m almost 61; I bruised my big toe; and the cat ate my homework.
This is a great community event, complete with someone in a headless costume on top of a horse. (He couldn’t race; horses are not allowed!). During my warmup, I came across a portable toilet with a short line — gold! — so got near the starting line moments before the race began.
Coach Steve and I thought that with such limited training and such a hilly course, I’d average 8:05 minute per mile. I figured anything under 8 is a damn good mile. So imagine the thrill when not just the first downhill mile but also the second relatively flat mile were in the 7:30s. At about 2 1/2 miles, I saw the lead runner coming back — he must have been at mile 4, and was a wonder to behold. (I later spoke with him — Harbert Okuti, from Uganda, lives right there in Tarrytown — and he finished in 31:54, an unbelievable 5:08 min/mile pace. “This guy runs with the big boys” said a seasoned participant.)
The work got serious around mile 3 1/2, when the pretty neighborhood got a bit steep. I was leapfrogging with a balding guy in a white shirt, and around mile 4 1/2, I caught up and asked how old he was. “5 (pause). 8.” I said good, we were in different age groups, because I was 60. Apparently that demoralized him and he fell behind…
Some downhill going towards the Philipse Manor train station and then the awful run into the Kingsland Point Park (where we had finished the Lighthouse Swim), and as I started the uphill to get out of the park I realized that I would have to dig deep…
… and I thought about my parents. And for the first time, instead of feeling overwhelmed with sadness at losing both of them this year, I suddenly felt lighter, buoyant. My Mom wasn’t around to worry that I’d have a heart attack while racing; my Dad wasn’t around to shake his head and ask why I put myself through this; and all I had was the blessing of remembering them. I picked up the turnover and it felt great.
The final 0.2 miles in the Sleepy Hollow races is always up, up, uphill. But knowing I was at the end made it easier to work harder. Finished, exhausted — but not hurt, and complete.
Bottom line: 48:50, or 7:52 min/mile. As they say on kindergarten report cards, “exceeded expectations”. Alas, no age group podium — 1st place (67 years old!) finished in 46:56, and 2nd and 3rd place were 3 seconds apart from each other, at 48:19 and 48:22. There’s no way I could beat those times. But 4/47 for AG, and 110/1,200 (yes, 1,200 runners) is fine by me. This was my best effort for that day. And that’s the new standard of a good race.
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.
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.
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 elseWith 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?
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.
