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Re: Race Day F-Ups [natethomas] [ In reply to ]
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My last race a few weeks ago I made a late change from Sprint tri to Sprint aqua bike due to knee issue

I read the wave wrong and started 2 waves back in the agua run wave. I realized while floating in the water waiting for the start. So I gave up 6 minutes before the start. Nothing I could do, so I just cruised through the swim but did hammer the bike. I still managed 3 overall, but would have won if I started in the correct wave.
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Re: Race Day F-Ups [david] [ In reply to ]
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All of you forgetting gear I suggest using a checklist app. This works great for packing and morning of for things like water bottles in the fridge.
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Re: Race Day F-Ups [natethomas] [ In reply to ]
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Flew into Melbourne Australia, for a bit of Aussie Rules, and advanced fraternization in general. Game first night at the G, giving myself a good work over, when Tad called, offered me a comp entry to the St Kilda Tri, and said he had a spare bike, and wetsuit, for me. No worries, he had me at comp entry. I only had my folding tourist bike, with 20 inch wheels with me, as vacations are not vacations if you train without being in full rec mode. Yarra bike trail, and Bayside trail, we’re as serious as I got, mainly for the eye candy. He was my size, surely his old bike would fit. I had a tank top, pair of board shorts, helmet, what could go wrong.

Hot humid morning. Tad had told me to meet him where the old Queens Arms pub was, just down from his old family pub, the Post Office Club Hotel, at 6am. I was sweating with a pair of tiny Aussie rules shorts on, when the new venue emptied, as it closed at 6 am. It was now, a …. Gentleman’s club, and I made a lot of friends, offering me a ride to any where but the Captain Gardens. What could go wrong.

Tad pulled up, grinning. In the early morning light, I saw one mighty sleek racing machine, befitting someone racing for Mercedes, and what looked like a rusted, serviceable road bike. Flat pedals, with cage, good, I only had tennis shoes. What could go wrong.

I’d been doing a load of kayaking, and my upper body struggled into the size M wetsuit, praise Jah it was sleeveless. I was ready to go. If you know Melbourne, the crowds were out, and my thoughts switched from completing, to competing. The sins of a night of football fun, and 4 hours sleep, were swept away by my ego. I was going to have a red hot.

Bit of a panic at the start, as the frisky over 40 crew hit the myrrh. I could barely bloody breathe, in the neoprene bondage device, but bloody hell, it kept me stiff as a board, and I was moving. Two guys were way in front, so A little effort got me hanging onto their tootsies, having a nice draft, and separating from the field. I exited from the water on their heels, feeling smug, that I was a superior biker and runner, battle hardened from a decade or two, living in San Diego. I was mentally composing my victor's speech, and humble wave. What could go wrong.

It got better. Out of the rubber, grabbed the bike, ripper, I was gonna get out of T1 first. Throw in the large, roaring mass of spectators, and I was on fire, what could go wrong? I’ll tell you, seeing you keep asking. I had put all my trust in me mate of several decades, and that trust went to making sure the bike was lubed, pumped, and most importantly, assembled. What went wrong, was we/he hadn’t tightened the skewer, pumped up the tires, or.. So I board the bike, one pedal stroke, tighten a cage, next peddle stroke, the back bloody wheel came out of the bike. Strapped into the peddle, I proved Sir Isaac correct, by falling to the ground, on my new unicycle. The first thing I thought, laying horizontal to the bike, was that the chain hadn’t been oiled, since the Nixon administration. I was brought to my senses, by the yelling, cajoling crowd, and assholes with 2 wheelers running by me. Desperate, I flayed about, my foot was strapped in tight, to that ancient cage. I begged and bellowed for help. A zealous official lorded and leered over me. If anyone helps you, you’re disqualified.

It took awhile, but yeah, I got my foot out, eventually, and yeah, wheel held secure, go figure, with one simple rotation of the skewer. And to be honest, 20 psi, made for a comfortable, plush ride. I didn’t lose, entirely. Riding along, just below the Esplanade, I noticed a lobster colored flash, in the distance. I passed it. An Aussie $20 bill. I kept riding. I stopped. I rode back along the sidewalk (I lie, I rode into a few oncoming cursing bikers), and picked up that 20.

I was a winner.

The moral of the story, is, don’t trust Tad, and check your equipment.

A year later, he pulled a similar trick, when he called again on my first night in town, saying his team was one rider short for an event crossing the State, 300 or so miles in 24 hours, what could possibly go wrong,but that’s another story.
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Re: Race Day F-Ups [ozseppo] [ In reply to ]
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What was the distance between the strip club and the $20? LOL

"What's your claim?" - Ben Gravy
"Your best work is the work you're excited about" - Rick Rubin
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Re: Race Day F-Ups [natethomas] [ In reply to ]
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Sprint tri a few weeks ago in Nashville.

It was deemed wetsuit legal so I wore my Roka SIM shorts for the short swim. Swim went great. I untied the shorts as I ran up the hill to T1, got all sorted with the bike and headed out for the ride and... noticed I still had the neoprene shorts on. Oops #1. On the plus side, they did offer a pretty comfortable ride. I zoom in to T2, get off the bike, switch out shoes and start to chase after a fellow team mate and ... notice I still have the shorts on. Oops #2. Turn around, spend way too much time trying to get those darn shorts over my shoes before heading out again on the run. I raced pretty well other than those 2 brain farts.
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