Race Report Blog

Tag: triathlon

  • Westchester Triathlon, 9/24/17

    Spoiler alert: this one was a good one.

    Though I signed up in the early spring, I didn’t decide to do this race until 2 days before, because I had tendinitis in my rotator cuff and biceps (no doubt from improper swimming form) and hadn’t swum in 5 weeks, since the day after Poconos 70.3. (Ironically the swim in that tri had never felt better.) I actually rode the course the week before with my nemesis/racing buddy Scott Schiffer, who had come down from Poughkeepsie, because I didn’t know if I would actually see him on race day.

    “By the dawn’s early light…” with Scott Schiffer

    But I had swum 500 yds. on Friday morning, when it felt okay, and another ten minutes off the beach at Rye Playland on Saturday morning (when Alan Golds and I went there for packet pickup), and it felt GREAT — the cold water felt like I was immersed in ice packs! Coach Debi told me to “RACE!” (last tri of the season; “so, worst case, you don’t swim for a couple months”), and my saintly but human wife Rachel wanted me to stop moping.

    I also wanted to go because there’d be lots of friends there: Drew Ahkao and NIcholas Moore (damn, what happened to those photos?!), Scott , the Hastings team (almost all of us after/still recovering from various injuries).

    with Alan Golds, Tom Andrews, John McDermott and Kevin Carlsten – where did Zander Reyna GO?!

    A real community, since this Olympic was so close to home.

    With Jason, Ziv Abramowicz, and Vadim Shteynberg

    Waited to the last minute to warm up, as we were the last of 9 waves. Doesn’t matter how many races I’ve done, I’m always scared as we enter the shoot, cross the mat, and await the horn…. HOOOOOOT.

    It was low tide, so we ran some 25, 50 yards before getting to water deep enough for swimming. I’m swimming alongside Alan for a while, then jostled by crowds as they pass me, or I pass them. (People in wetsuits are so BIG.) I was committed to minimizing injury by being relaxed, and build into whatever I could handle, and relaxation HAS to be good for swimming; I had to look left at the buoys in this counterclockwise course, which was better for my injury and my stronger side; and I had tapered a LOT in the prior week, including two nights of 9+ hours sleep in the last few days. So I wasn’t surprised that, despite the shoulder injury, it turned out to be my best swim ever: 26:08. YES.

    T1 went well (which is to say I found my bike where I left it), in and out in 2:50, but Scott runs past me as I’m taking off my wetsuit.

    I have a few goals for the bike: to beat Scott (who had taken first place to my third place at the Stissing Sprint earlier this year); to ride at 20 to 21 mph (instead of the 19+ that I had done in recent races); and to beat my best time on this course of 1:12. Took a while to catch up with Scott; he passed me; I passed him again at some hill, but the fear of him breathing down my neck kept me going. Panting despite Debi’s orders. I am tapping whatever power I have, pushing pushing. Almost no one passed me, and no one in my age group. So, towards the end, when I saw I had already used up my 1:12, I thought, I won’t beat my best time, but maybe I’d make the podium anyway. That would be a great consolation prize. Bike: 1:15:25, or 20.84 mph.

    T2 does not go perfectly — I go to the wrong row to rack my bike, but I find my spot without losing too much time. 2:07; lost maybe 20 seconds. Who cares, right?

    For the run, I finally had learned to wear sunglasses on that first shadeless out and back, and as I’m returning, there’s Scott; and I pass another guy in our AG. Mile 1 is 7:21. OK, I have some lead, but there’s very little cushion there. By Mile 3, I realize all I can do is maintain whatever pace I am doing, and if someone else has the juice to go faster, God be with them. By Mile 4, I am miserable, panting and slogging, but remembered from my last race, the Poconos 70.3, that everyone else is probably hurting too and not to assume I’m in last place. Sure enough, by mile 5, I pass Phil Gormley, who OWNS this race; he always comes in the top 5 or better; I make the turnaround, and here comes Scott running towards me, and he seems like he’s closer since I last saw him, and I SOOOOO want to walk, I am sooooo tired, but I have a shot at the podium if I can stay ahead of Phil and Scott, and I remember that the turn off the road isn’t at the first view of the park but here comes the second, and that last grassy 0.2 miles is as sweet as ever, and BAM I cross the finish line, walking in circles to let my heart rate drop to something reasonable. Run time: 48:28, or 7:50 min/mile. Not my best, but I’ll take it.

    As I wait on line for a free massage, to be followed by free beer (such a civilized race), Scott gets our results; he’s taken 3rd Place and I have finished in 2nd Place for our age group! YES, YES, YES.

    “One of these is mine!”

    2:34:58, 2/36 AG, 83/618 OA.

    First place, Bruce Kaliner (whom I’d met years ago at this race, and is gracious enough to tell me “you kicked my butt at the NYC Tri this year”), beats me by 19 seconds… I was faster on the bike and the run, but he was faster on the swim and T2! But I am delighted, having chased this age group podium since I started racing 6 years ago — coming in 19th, then 13th, then 8th, then 8th again – then a year off, to train for the NYC Marathon. Finally! Mine, mine, mine.

    I haven’t gotten faster — in fact, I was 6 minutes slower than my best race in 2013, and 2 minutes slower than last year – but I’ve gotten older. I haven’t given up on more PRs, but I am happy to do well among my peers.

    And my shoulder still hurts, but somehow I feel a lot better.

    Seen on a spectator’s shirt: “That’s a terrible idea. What time does it start?”

  • Race Report: Harry Man Olympic Triathlon, 5/16/15

    I was kind of dreading this race, in Harriman State Park next to Bear Mt., because it was my first tri of the season, and rain was predicted. I packed extra plastic bags to cover my transition gear, a rain coat for pre-race, got anxious about riding in the wet with a bunch of yahoos. Sure enough, as I left house to drive all of 35 minutes to get there, the night’s drizzle transformed into a torrential downpour. But by the time I got out of my car, the rain stopped!

    That was the start of a beautiful day, and not without its drama. Even registration was cool (number 530! and I’m 53 in USAT years!), and right after that, saw my gym friend Anthony. He found me a spot for my bike in his rack (open racking, for 300 Half Ironman + Oly racers?) and invited me to put my tri bag in his cubby between the bikes; so great to have a friend there on race day. (Note to self: pre-race, don’t just walk and count the racks from swim in, but also from bike in…)

     Anthony Ma, racking up: 
    More good news: the water in Lake Welch wasn’t 55 degrees, as predicted by the race directors, but 61 — totally comfortable in a full-sleeve wetsuit, and no need for the neoprene swim cap. So when we got to warm up in the swim area, it was somewhat relaxing; but I felt rusty, having missed a few workouts in the prior week or two.

         Third wave, put myself in the third row (seeing the 4th row folks very deliberately holding back; clearly, I could go faster than the shy guys…) and HONK! we’re off. 

      

    And here’s where the going got tough — mentally. I couldn’t get my groove on. I’m working hard, trying to grab the froth of someone to draft, my turnover seems high but not effective; I’m thinking of all those drills that the excellent Coach Mitch gave me during our lessons in March, rotating and keeping high elbow and pulling straight down with that wandering right hand, but I am not gaining, I feel like I’m flailing, inadequate for this task, heart is pumping and I’m tired already and feels like everyone is leaving me behind, “oh no another mediocre swim.” Not until I start passing the folks doing breast stroke (clearly, from a prior wave!) and turn towards shore do I remember that 3/4 stroke (pull hard as my recovery hand reaches my head), I get in the loping rhythm that finally feels powerful, I pass a few people and hit the beach and run up the beach and it’s 22:19 for the swim! (Keep in mind, this is supposed to be a .6 mile swim — half the HIM course — so that’s only 1:48/100 yds. — my tt + 0:11; not terrific).

      

      
    Transition is fine, the sun is out, I slap my Garmin’s lap button too many times and realize the bike is going to be timed as if it’s T2. (Gotta practice everything!) And it’s a beautiful ride through a forested park, a lot of inexperienced people in this very local race, so a little scary re their ability to handle their bikes, but I pass too many to count ’em. “On your left! Your left!” (Is that obnoxious or appropriate? I guess it’s how you say it.) And the first loop of this 28-mile course, some long rolling hills but nothing like the steep monsters near my town, and it’s hard work but goes by without incident.

      
    But I get passed, as well, most importantly by at least two guys who are in my age group (squinting at the faded numbers written on their calves) and there goes a third guy with a big handlebar mustache (turns out, he’s older!), and I’m almost resigned to the ignominy of not reaching the podium when this guy in a light blue shirt and “50” too clearly written on his leg screams by and goes one city block, then two city blocks away, then apparently gone… Oh, well. 28 miles in 1:34 – 17.9 mph average. I’ll take it.

    T2 is fine (a little scrambling for my rack – ah, there’s my bag plus Anthony’s!) and off on the run. The race has thinned out by now – either everyone’s ahead or behind me, and I think I net around 4 people total who I pass/get passed – but my form feels good, no injurious pain, just the pushing the envelope tiredness, and I settle into a 7:30ish pace, and wishing this 10k run was only 5k. 

    And suddenly, at the 3 mile turnaround, there’s the guy in the light blue shirt! And I pass him! And I am certain that he must be furiously chasing me, I picture him on my tail just a few feet behind me, and I dare not turn around, and the fear of his catching up keeps me at my steady pace, pawing the ground with each step and pushing off a little more maybe a little faster and damn! The finish line sooner than I expected and I TAKE THIRD PLACE.

    The finish chute:  
    Unbelievable.

    Bottom line: 45:40 run (7:33 avg -seems to be the same as my last two tris), 2:44:36 final time, 3/12 AG, 33/210 OA. Pretty darn gratifying. This could be the start of a good season.