I have never done an actual bike race before but a few weeks before this one my good friend Pietre calls me up and asks if I want to do a bike race at altitude? We could even stay at his parents place. Heck yeah I replied. I have never been to Los Alamos, New Mexico. It was set.
I raced in the Cat. 4 and 5 group because I had no previous experience. The race was a 27 mile loop that we did twice totaling 56 miles or there about. Once at the starting line I became incredibly nervous and scared. I was nervous, not because of the distance or the pace I imagined, but the experience of the other riders (me included). Fortunately the first lap went fairly smoothly. Each time we climbed a hill it was easy to tell which riders would be strong later in the race. Being an observant rider you begin to pick up subtle clues about the individuals in the race. Are they breathing hard? Are their hips rocking? How do they look when they get out of the saddle? I actually found it rather interesting, much of the time sitting in, watching how our group was slowly loosing riders each time the grade and pace intensified. Half way through the last lap our group was probably down to 30% of the riders that started.
Knowing that the last half of the last lap was almost entirely up hill I was stoked! I knew I could climb hills like a mountain goat and watching the other riders for quite some time I was ready for a fight! Hmmm... Okay I am a big liar. At the bottom of the final hill I was quite spent from the efforts and the altitude and prayed the other riders were as tired as me. Then, suddenly, as I turned the final hair-pin corner at the absolute bottom of the hill I felt my rear tire slide out from under me. Narrowly avoiding the major disaster I looked at my rear wheel and saw... Yup... You guessed it. A FRIGGING FLAT TIRE! I didn't have a spare because I used them all up the previous week. (Another long sad story.)
I got picked up by the broom wagon shortly after my flat and got a ride back to the finish line where I met back up with Brianne, Taylor, Deanna, and Pietre. Yet another fun filled weekend was enjoyed by all. Now back into the car (that had not air conditioning I may add) for the 6 hour drive back to 100 degree plus Las Cruces. Oh, and don't worry Deanna, I promise I will get you that gas money.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Kansas 70.3
When I registered for this race earlier this year I knew that this was going to be the 'A' race of my season. As the race got closer and closer I became increasingly excited and a little nervous. Since the Memorial Herman Ironman 70.3 I knew I was in better swimming shape and running shape but I was still a little nervous about the bike. Flashing back, before the Memorial Herman 70.3 all I had done on the bike was ride my road bike (just like I did before the Elephantman and the Lake Havasu triathlon which were followed by great bike splits). Since everyone all along has been telling me to train on the bike you race on I, being the naive good little boy I am, listened. I knew I was going to have a great day at Kansas. I had done my homework well and felt confident going into this race.
My Aunt and Uncle graciously provided Brianne and I with a beautiful place to stay in Dallas on the way to Lawrence Kansas.
Race morning dawned calm and sweet but buzzing with a tremendous amount of energy and nerves from the spectators and athletes. As Brianne Loya and I walked the mile to transition one she whispered in my ear, "Hey! look who's behind you." I turned around and it was her. Yes the legend in the making, it was Chrissie Wellington! I wanted to go shake her hand and meet her but being completely star struck, I had nothing better to blurt than, "Hey Chrissie, you are really fast!" Oh well.
Like always the swim was divided into waves based on your age. I don't understand how they determine which wave goes first because they are all out of order. At first I thought the faster waves go first but then they sent the 25-29 year old men nearly last. One time it would be nice to not swim over the other waves but what else can you do. Regardless of the wave starts there is a wide range of swimming variability. Ugg. I am not sure why I keep talking about non-interesting stuff but I am stopping right now.
The water temperature was 78 degrees race morning and the race officials were seriously considering not allowing wet suits. They did in the end allow wet suits which was nice because I seem to get cold even if the water temp is 98.5 degrees. Now, jumping ahead a little, we are swimming the 1.2 miles and I feel pretty good. I managed to keep the lead swimmer in sight until we started plowing through the other swimming waves. At the turn around buoy I did actually start to get pretty warm. It is a good thing the swim was not any longer than it was because by the end I was definitely warmed up for the bike.
As the bike segment began I had mixed feelings. Should I hold back and save some Umph for the return trip or start working immediately? I didn't have to wait long for my decision because I felt like poo. In order to keep momentum moving foreword I had to start working hard immediately. Things just didn't feel right at the very get go. Unlike at the Memorial Herman 70.3 where going fast was easy and a piece of cake, here it was not so. My hammies and calfs felt tired, flat and a little sore. I tried to explain to them that today was not the day to go to the spa and lay on the couch but the day to kick a little Kansas ass. They unfortunately refused to listen. "Very well," I said in return, "Come on quads and glutes, we don't need any help anyway, we can do this on our own."
Despite the hilly course and feeling so-so, I guess I managed to have a pretty good bike leg. Although I should be happy about my improvement on the bike I think I am one of those people that always set high standards and thus is never satisfied. Still I was passed by only one person on the bike (in my age group I might add) but felt very confident going into the run.
Immediately once on the run something wasn't right. My stomach and guts had never felt heavier. I guess I was slightly dehydrated from the bike and I had one to many power gels. I drank some water at the aid stations but the water was not moving through. I felt like the Hoover Dam holding back a flash flood. I was ready to burst. Eventually the pain and discomfort became too much and I was forced to the first thing I had ever done in a triathlon run. I walked. At first I walked through the aid stations, but then I just walked. My race was over. RRRGH...!
Feeling like poo on the run.
Around mile 10 on the run a major wave of nausea hit me so hard and I began frantically looking for a private place to go relieve some pressure. There were people and spectators everywhere but I couldn't hold it any more. I walked over to a green electrical box and proceeded to give it a nice speckling texture of orange Gatorade. Now, feeling so incredibly light and relieved, I began to run once again. The last three miles felt great but I was too late. The Kansas 70.3 was over and it was time to pack it up and head home. There is always something to learn about these races.
Stopping somewhere in Kansas for a little fun. Note which way the cows are running.
My Aunt and Uncle graciously provided Brianne and I with a beautiful place to stay in Dallas on the way to Lawrence Kansas.
Race morning dawned calm and sweet but buzzing with a tremendous amount of energy and nerves from the spectators and athletes. As Brianne Loya and I walked the mile to transition one she whispered in my ear, "Hey! look who's behind you." I turned around and it was her. Yes the legend in the making, it was Chrissie Wellington! I wanted to go shake her hand and meet her but being completely star struck, I had nothing better to blurt than, "Hey Chrissie, you are really fast!" Oh well.
Like always the swim was divided into waves based on your age. I don't understand how they determine which wave goes first because they are all out of order. At first I thought the faster waves go first but then they sent the 25-29 year old men nearly last. One time it would be nice to not swim over the other waves but what else can you do. Regardless of the wave starts there is a wide range of swimming variability. Ugg. I am not sure why I keep talking about non-interesting stuff but I am stopping right now.
The water temperature was 78 degrees race morning and the race officials were seriously considering not allowing wet suits. They did in the end allow wet suits which was nice because I seem to get cold even if the water temp is 98.5 degrees. Now, jumping ahead a little, we are swimming the 1.2 miles and I feel pretty good. I managed to keep the lead swimmer in sight until we started plowing through the other swimming waves. At the turn around buoy I did actually start to get pretty warm. It is a good thing the swim was not any longer than it was because by the end I was definitely warmed up for the bike.
As the bike segment began I had mixed feelings. Should I hold back and save some Umph for the return trip or start working immediately? I didn't have to wait long for my decision because I felt like poo. In order to keep momentum moving foreword I had to start working hard immediately. Things just didn't feel right at the very get go. Unlike at the Memorial Herman 70.3 where going fast was easy and a piece of cake, here it was not so. My hammies and calfs felt tired, flat and a little sore. I tried to explain to them that today was not the day to go to the spa and lay on the couch but the day to kick a little Kansas ass. They unfortunately refused to listen. "Very well," I said in return, "Come on quads and glutes, we don't need any help anyway, we can do this on our own."
Despite the hilly course and feeling so-so, I guess I managed to have a pretty good bike leg. Although I should be happy about my improvement on the bike I think I am one of those people that always set high standards and thus is never satisfied. Still I was passed by only one person on the bike (in my age group I might add) but felt very confident going into the run.
Immediately once on the run something wasn't right. My stomach and guts had never felt heavier. I guess I was slightly dehydrated from the bike and I had one to many power gels. I drank some water at the aid stations but the water was not moving through. I felt like the Hoover Dam holding back a flash flood. I was ready to burst. Eventually the pain and discomfort became too much and I was forced to the first thing I had ever done in a triathlon run. I walked. At first I walked through the aid stations, but then I just walked. My race was over. RRRGH...!
Feeling like poo on the run.
Around mile 10 on the run a major wave of nausea hit me so hard and I began frantically looking for a private place to go relieve some pressure. There were people and spectators everywhere but I couldn't hold it any more. I walked over to a green electrical box and proceeded to give it a nice speckling texture of orange Gatorade. Now, feeling so incredibly light and relieved, I began to run once again. The last three miles felt great but I was too late. The Kansas 70.3 was over and it was time to pack it up and head home. There is always something to learn about these races.
Stopping somewhere in Kansas for a little fun. Note which way the cows are running.
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