dweyhrauch09
Aug 26, 08 10:52
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I was warming up on the trainer just outside the transition zone as the little kid sat there fascinated by it, blatantly staring. I’d keep my head down, spinning easily, but out of the corner of my eye there he was, every time. I tried to put his obsession past me as I busied myself the way any proper ST’er would- mocking my future competitors in my head. Forget HTFU, they needed to Warm the F*ck Up as they stood around in the transition zone gossiping, likely about my seat being too low.
I’d arrived early enough to snag the rack directly adjacent to the bike exit/entrance, giving me the shortest distance to have to run with my bike and I was pretty pleased with it. Forget structured training and a proper taper, it’s all about the T zone placement.
Fifty minutes before the gun would sound for the Olympic distance wave, the RD called us over for the pre-race meeting and explained the swim courses. Ours would be a tri-angle (hopefully 80 and not 72… Get it? You know, like ‘tri seat tube angle.’ Oh shoot!) around the inlet adjacent to the beautiful little state park along the Columbia river. Desert bluffs and cliffs framed the start gorgeously as the Sprint racers took off at the siren, a majority of them electing to take it out easy and then taper off. I, now magically in my wetsuit, began to ponder whether swimming in water this cold actually made for an effective warm up (I like to rock the sleeveless). I ultimately decided to swim easy, do a few sprints, and then content myself with wind-mills and similar motion to keep the blood pumping.
My month trip to Guatemala (that’s right Hector, Guate rules!) was incredible, but allowed for absolutely zero training and my little souvenir of a respiratory infection didn’t exactly assist the following three weeks either. A one week taper to ensure proper health and it was off to the races.
Oh wait that’s right no one cares about that- back to the race. Confidence in my swim lead me to line up at the front with a great line to the first buoy. 10 second countdown. An ineffectual leap forward pushing off the muddy bottom in nipple-deep water and I was off. The race directors had contracted out the county to cut a 6-foot wide swathe in the seaweed-like milfoil along the course, so the swim was luxurious to say the least. Not hindered by the bastard plant or sore triceps like I was in last week’s open water swim race, I maintained my position in the lead as another swimmer pulled past me on the right, too far to the side to make a move to draft before the turn-buoy a worthwhile gesture. Right around the first turn-buoy and it was out towards the middle of the wide river, the sun cresting behind us and blue skies with clear de-fogged goggles making for gorgeous sighting. I intermittently drafted off a line of three swimmers that slowly pulled up to and past me as I maintained my own rhythm around the far point of the triangle, and then it was a long straight stretch back to the swim exit. I cruised through clear water keeping the lead pack of swimmers in contact (we all spread out, but I thought if we’re going to have social time I might as well benefit from it and chose a nice pair of feet to tickle lovingly for a bit), following the swathe towards the finish. Two porpoise moves and a goofy run through shallow water had me out of the water in 6th overall, right among a pack of five with the swim leader a minute or two out ahead.
A surprisingly slow --but faster than those around me—transition and mount had me onto the ˝ mile incline up to the highway the bike course follows before my swim buddies, but I was quickly passed by two (including a La Pierre with a forward off-set seatpost. The combo of a lean cycling build and obscure bike brand made the decision to let him go fairly easy). I was still breathing really heavy from the swim and faced a progressively uphill, rolling course for the first quarter of the out and bike leg and stuck with my decision to take it easy and not spike my heart rate/blow out my legs early. I’ll save such things for the run.
One guy I’d previously marked to watch for during the bike-leg was P2C-DA/Spiuk Kronos guy, and it was just such a kitted out rider who spun by me before the downhill section leading to the flat middle of the course. My 6’3”, 200 lb build (in the good way), previously desirable during the cold swim, but undesirable during the inclined start of the bike course, became desirable again as all things turned downhill and I powered the flats to the turnaround while getting a solid gauge on how far ahead and behind my competitors were. P2C guy had been held at a pretty constant distance, but a long string of riders ZIPPing up behind me, while I KSYRIUM’d away, had me pressing hard to get to the run. A little bit of early onset cramping in my hams/glutes was neutralized by getting my drink on with a concentrated Cytomax mix, and the uphill section afforded a wonderful opportunity to take in the beautiful desert scenery. And by ‘take in the scenery’ I mean ‘not be a pussy and sit up but instead press hard to transition’.
A local triathlete, who I’d later learned is named Vince, rode past me coolly (with an even cooler Aussie-esque accent, might I add) on the downhill section leading back into transition, but I was able to hold his lead to just a 100 yards out onto the run course, coming off the bike in sixth overall.
My legs felt as strong as could be expected as I ran my way back to Vince on the two loop run course. I was able to catch him and put some time in by opening up my stride on the downhills, but fortunately he stuck with me so we pushed each other towards the finish. Going up the long uphill on the final lap he pulled up along side me and said, ‘Come on, 21…!’ referencing my lack of expected youthful vigor and we pressed on towards the finish.
Now at this point we’re lapping Sprint racers and there are first-lap Olympic racers on the course, so I don’t know whose who, but when Guy in my age group blows by me on the long downhill leading to a flat mile to the finish, I put the hammer down. But only this time, by ‘put the hammer down’ I mean ‘add an almost imperceptible increase in pace’ and he runs off. But the incentive was enough and I surge, trying vainly to catch him but catching many others in the process. A sprint to the finish has me landing in 4th place OA, just off the podium but by default at the front of my age group (fast running guy was on his first lap), having unknowingly passed the guy in fourth during the last mile. Not the best way to race, you know, not knowing exactly whose ahead of you, but I was thrilled with the 4th overall coming off of my first OA victory in a Sprint race last June.
Really, I gotta take this time to thank my sponsors, Mom, Dad.
But thanks for taking the time to read this (or avoid work or what have you). I tried to make it entertaining, but just wanted to share the awesome job the good folks at triwenatchee did with the race. It was a gorgeous course, incredible venue with superb post-race food and a raffle like you wouldn’t believe.
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