Over a quarter century in the sport, over 20 years of Master's swimming and I get a 30 minute swim split. I am the Hydrosloth, a title I earn every time I toe the line. And now, the REST of the story...
Objects are younger than they appear.
Sato Hydrosloth's Westwood Lake Race Report – Olympic Distance
Sunday May 20, 2018
Preface:
Having done this sport for a while now (1st race in 1991) I've learned a few things. One of the things is that you don't stop learning, or in some cases – relearning. This was my first triathlon in my new (55-59) age group. I was fully aware of this as I was racing. This is my story.
Preparation:
8 fairly consistent weeks of training with my new coach, Jonathan Caron. I don't think I swam enough in the past month. Why does this always happen in April & May? I know – trust the coach, follow the plan. I was a hormonal basket case for taper week. Tuesday had amazing swim at Whonnock but got super congested for the rest of the week – there's my excuse!
Fuel:
EFS electrolyte mixed with 1/2 scoop of F2C glyco-endurance & a Gu with caffeine for bike. 5 Hour Energy bottle for start of run. 2 gels in the 40 min. before the swim.
Equipment:
Bike – Quintana Roo Cd 0.1 with HED 3 & Specialized Turbo Pro (23) up front and Disc cover with Continental G.P. 4000 s (also 23) rear. Frame mounted water bottle and tool kit in water bottle, also on frame. Wetsuit – old Pro-Motion Powerglide, full sleeves, a bit big but super buoyant, tinted Tyr goggles. 1 piece Pearl Izumi tri-suit. Old Sketchers – “Meb” model with speed laces.
Night before:
1.5 beer and a big pasta dinner with salad. Asleep by 10:30.
AM of:
Up at 5:15. stomach was bad. Took antacid pill. Had yogurt and Clif bar. Stomach bad. Took another antacid pill. Stomach still bad. It stayed that way for the next 8 hours. Got to race site by 6:20. Second person to rack bike, cool! Really like getting there that early. V. Relaxed! Even had a short run and time to deal with all those silly things that happen before a race like sunglasses, socks, ring.
Swim:
After last year's thrashing at Cultus Fall, I decided to seed less aggressively. Sort of in the middle of the middle and that's where I stayed. Went out at an easier pace because I got boxed in. Need to seed faster next time. Siting was ok. No crazy off course stuff. I played around to try and get the best draft pack but things seemed to really fall apart and did about 1/3 of the swim by myself. Because of this, I spent too much time looking up than if I was in a pack. In retrospect I probably swam a bit too easy. I need to practice those 300 metre blast outs. No chaffing at all today!!
T1:
Ran out of water while taking off wetsuit. Could have lubed up my legs more, as it took a bit too long for lower 1/2 of wetsuit to peel off. Fumbled a bit with helmet strap and putting my gel in my small 1-piece tri-suit. No other drama. Was a wise idea to put socks and shoes on while in transition as my lack of manual dexterity would have made the first 500 metres of the bike very dangerous – steep downhill!
Bike:
Nobody around me! Went through the first series of rollers alone and unmotivated. I pretended to go hard but felt pretty flat. From that mental no man's land emerged my mantra for the day, “zone in.” It seemed to work. Got into the first residential loop and saw some folks coming back. There were mainly the sprint bikers, although Ambrosi was one of them and he was NOT in the sprint. This motivated me a bit. Who else would I see? I actually looked forward to doing the hills as they forced me to push honestly.
The mantra, along with the hills seemed to FINALLY get my ass in gear. Started to think that the caffeine pill I crushed up in my water bottle was inert. On an uphill, a kid on a road bike passed me. I buried myself for about an minute trying to stay with him but then got bored. Not tired – bored. I became content to slack off and zone in. Felt very hopeless at this point, like I was the last placed person in the race. A big mixture of emotions. On some of the downhills I could see people on bikes, far in the distance. Maybe I still was in the race. I worked a little harder to see if I could catch those folks. Eventually I did. I sized them up and said to myself, “see who you cycle with when your swim SUCKS. You've been doing this sport HOW LONG, and this is your cycling peer group?”
Thankfully I had a long hill to bury myself into to mask my inner-shame. I'm sure glad that my bike was shifting well and a had a 30 rear cog because I used it a lot. Another person passed me. Racer # 399. My age group! Here is your ticket to the finish line! I stayed in contact with him for awhile and actually started passing more people, maybe about 10 but in the crowd I lost contact with him. Despite the rapidly developing action, I was too calm. No sense of inner-urgency. No fight in my spirit. I took the downhills too cautiously, but I was riding a very steep bike position. Ok, well that's another excuse I told myself.
Passing the jail at Brannon Lake I was served up another serving of hopelessness, another group of people who were waaaay the hell too far in the distance. Again, I felt much better about myself on the uphills when the gradient served as my slave-master & I really had to try. Again, I was grateful for that 30 cog as I was able to catch more people. Sadistically, I derived pleasure in hearing their laboured breathing while I slithered past them, venom coursing in my veins, and having thoughts of “screw you, you naturally-gifted swimmers.” Like all good things in life, the hill was over and another demoralizing downhill appeared with a few morsels off in the distance.
As I rounded another corner, a clearing in the forest appeared, as did another uphill – and there he was - Symonds, powering down the hill and looking to me very pissed off (or was that projection) and focused as he powered – not floated down the hill. Who would I see next coming back from the turn-around? As it turned out, nobody at least not for a very long time.
Then, finally the gaggle of cyclists ahead of me showed itself, and there were many of them. Ambrosi yelled at me and smiled. I thought to myself, “how the hell can he do that?” “He can't be trying hard enough.” And then I thought to myself when I am on a caffeine high and things are rolling on the bike, I do the same damn thing. The feeling is a mixture of having joy in seeing a person that you know on the race course, and an even bigger joy in knowing that they are safely behind you. More people came streaming toward me and thankfully I was on an uphill to give me an outlet for my displeasure. Then came the turn-around and my hopelessness lifted.
I slowed down a lot to take in my gel and while I was doing that, was gratified to see all the people who were behind me. Some of them looked like they were very fast people who wanted to catch me. This was exciting! With an awakened sense of purpose, I replayed my mantra of “zoning in” and got on with the task at hand, trying to get to the start of the run as quickly as possible. Clearly the sugar and caffeine were kicking in although I wished I had that feeling about 20 kilometres earlier. I heard breathing behind me, and the sound of wheels, and then a high pitched engine sound. Focus, focus, focus. Zone in. Breath from the diaphragm.
In my zen-like state two other old bastards passed me. I was amused because none of us seemed to be trying that hard as we ascended a long climb. I dropped back a bit and let these clearly stronger cyclists set the pace. I sensed a bit of both camaraderie and competitiveness as we worked that hill together for what seemed to be about a minute or so. Near the crest of the hill our partnership dissolved. As I soloed the last 5 kilometres I got fairly cautious, heeding the race director's advice about the sharp turn and chain drop hill. When it appeared, I was more than ready for it, and swung widely into the turn, building momentum, and slingshoting the entire thing. One more sharp turn and it was up the final climb before T-2. Uncharacteristically, I really poured on the coal on the rise, maybe in an a subconscious attempt to atone for my tepid effort for most of the ride.
T2:
Since my legs were so fresh, I was able to land a fairly graceful dismount and gingerly danced my way to the bike racks. My rack was tight with bikes, meaning of course that my age group competitors were already on the run course and putting time into me. No worries! I downed my 5 Hour Energy Drink clumsily, pulled on my shoes, and lumbered onto the run course with hat and race number in hand.
Run:
Just as I hit the run course, I made the decision to tighten my shoes just a little bit more; there was no need to have the shoes squirming all over the place on this challenging run. Just as I was doing this, one of the old guys from the hill ran past me. Judging from his weathered face, I was sure that he was in my age group and I gave chase. A wise decision, I thought, let him set the pace and if he faulters, I'd be there to pick up a position. We dutifully made our way around the first lap, passing only about three people in the process. I admired his steady pacing, I'd gain a bit on the downhills but he would maintain his lead over me on the uphills. That was, except, for the monster hill near the end of the first lap where he really slowed down and I almost passed him. Indeed! His weakness was exposed and my plan was hatched!
I maintained close contact with him on the second lap until a momentary lack of focus caused me to fall down a steep hill. Instead of landing with a thud, however, I landed with a boing and sprang right back to my feet in an almost cartwheel-like manouver. My mishap had cost me nary a minute but the sting of the trail rash and the shock of the tumble caused me concern, as my hamstrings began to cramp. More importantly, the old guy that I was chasing for the past 30 minutes was clearly out of sight. Again, having my mantra of “zone in” paid dividends and I tuned into the rhythm of my breathing, the imprint of race pace burned into my psyche over 40 years of running. A calmness overcame me and I was just a lung and pair of legs – no feet, no arms, no head, and gladly, no pain from the scrapes and bruises I had earlier sustained. The leaves of the trees were pumping oxygen-rich air into me and I was simply an animal in the bush on the hunt. Well, an animal that loves F2C glyco-durance! At the last aid-station I called out for it, gulped it down on the run, and prepared myself for an opportunity that may present itself in the last 5 minutes of the race.
And there it was, ANOTHER person in my age group wearing a Life-Sport jersey, a proxy for my long-term nemesis – Dan Smith. He was walking up the hill, holding his knees and panting away. And again, just like in the lap previous, I sensed weakness, but now it was time to play the last cards in my hand. I grunted like only a fifty-five-year old man can, winced, and buried myself on the remaining 20 metres of the hill. My legs shuddered and then smiled at me because they knew what lay ahead. Feeling more alive that I have in months, I galloped down the hill in terror, not because a small misstep would garner another set of gashes and bruises, but because I might get passed.
Maybe my body held back on the bike just to capitalize on this moment. My unphased legs were up for the challenge and there was no response from my competitor, just more opportunity. Not more than 100 metres away was my “pacer.” Sustaining my suicide pace I was gaining and gaining on him. Maybe this is the difference between third and second. The world condensed itself into a small slit of light as I let my body combust itself for 50 more metres, but alas, it was not to be and he crossed the line comfortably ahead of me.
Then, I crossed, in a zombie-like state and continued to run through the finish shoot, well-aware that if I were to suddenly stop like THEY WANTED ME TO IN ORDER TO GIVE THEM MY TIMING CHIP, my muscles would seize and I would collapse, just like I have on far too many occasions. Yeah, I finally turned around and gave them their timing chip and collected my finisher's medal. Among those at the finish line, there seemed to be a bit of concern about my bloodied and gravel-stained tri-suit. It was Greg Ambrosi who doggedly sicced a medic on me and Greg did not relent until he saw me have a chat with the medic. I relented and got cleaned up and bandaged.
Stats:
Swim 30:25, 3/10 in age group. T1: 1:22. Bike 1:17:53, 4/10 in age group. T2: 49. Run: 52:35, 3/10 in age group. Final time 2:43:04 = 3/10 in age group. 29/123 overall.
Lesson learned:
Seed more aggressively for swim. Longer distance intervals in swim training. Push swim a bit harder. Get more caffeine and sugar into you on the bike as soon as you can. Find ways to motivate yourself while you are alone on the bike. Zone in mantra works! Your new run strategy is to settle in, zone in, look for opportunities, do surges while alone. Dare to fail in the last 2 k.
Post-Script:
As it turned out, those guys who I thought were in my age group were ALL younger than me, hence the name of this race report! I was 5 minutes out of first and 65 seconds out of second. There's some room for optimism here. Not a bad start to the season.
http://www.fitspeek.com the Fraser Valley's fitness, wellness, and endurance sports podcast
Objects are younger than they appear.
Sato Hydrosloth's Westwood Lake Race Report – Olympic Distance
Sunday May 20, 2018
Preface:
Having done this sport for a while now (1st race in 1991) I've learned a few things. One of the things is that you don't stop learning, or in some cases – relearning. This was my first triathlon in my new (55-59) age group. I was fully aware of this as I was racing. This is my story.
Preparation:
8 fairly consistent weeks of training with my new coach, Jonathan Caron. I don't think I swam enough in the past month. Why does this always happen in April & May? I know – trust the coach, follow the plan. I was a hormonal basket case for taper week. Tuesday had amazing swim at Whonnock but got super congested for the rest of the week – there's my excuse!
Fuel:
EFS electrolyte mixed with 1/2 scoop of F2C glyco-endurance & a Gu with caffeine for bike. 5 Hour Energy bottle for start of run. 2 gels in the 40 min. before the swim.
Equipment:
Bike – Quintana Roo Cd 0.1 with HED 3 & Specialized Turbo Pro (23) up front and Disc cover with Continental G.P. 4000 s (also 23) rear. Frame mounted water bottle and tool kit in water bottle, also on frame. Wetsuit – old Pro-Motion Powerglide, full sleeves, a bit big but super buoyant, tinted Tyr goggles. 1 piece Pearl Izumi tri-suit. Old Sketchers – “Meb” model with speed laces.
Night before:
1.5 beer and a big pasta dinner with salad. Asleep by 10:30.
AM of:
Up at 5:15. stomach was bad. Took antacid pill. Had yogurt and Clif bar. Stomach bad. Took another antacid pill. Stomach still bad. It stayed that way for the next 8 hours. Got to race site by 6:20. Second person to rack bike, cool! Really like getting there that early. V. Relaxed! Even had a short run and time to deal with all those silly things that happen before a race like sunglasses, socks, ring.
Swim:
After last year's thrashing at Cultus Fall, I decided to seed less aggressively. Sort of in the middle of the middle and that's where I stayed. Went out at an easier pace because I got boxed in. Need to seed faster next time. Siting was ok. No crazy off course stuff. I played around to try and get the best draft pack but things seemed to really fall apart and did about 1/3 of the swim by myself. Because of this, I spent too much time looking up than if I was in a pack. In retrospect I probably swam a bit too easy. I need to practice those 300 metre blast outs. No chaffing at all today!!
T1:
Ran out of water while taking off wetsuit. Could have lubed up my legs more, as it took a bit too long for lower 1/2 of wetsuit to peel off. Fumbled a bit with helmet strap and putting my gel in my small 1-piece tri-suit. No other drama. Was a wise idea to put socks and shoes on while in transition as my lack of manual dexterity would have made the first 500 metres of the bike very dangerous – steep downhill!
Bike:
Nobody around me! Went through the first series of rollers alone and unmotivated. I pretended to go hard but felt pretty flat. From that mental no man's land emerged my mantra for the day, “zone in.” It seemed to work. Got into the first residential loop and saw some folks coming back. There were mainly the sprint bikers, although Ambrosi was one of them and he was NOT in the sprint. This motivated me a bit. Who else would I see? I actually looked forward to doing the hills as they forced me to push honestly.
The mantra, along with the hills seemed to FINALLY get my ass in gear. Started to think that the caffeine pill I crushed up in my water bottle was inert. On an uphill, a kid on a road bike passed me. I buried myself for about an minute trying to stay with him but then got bored. Not tired – bored. I became content to slack off and zone in. Felt very hopeless at this point, like I was the last placed person in the race. A big mixture of emotions. On some of the downhills I could see people on bikes, far in the distance. Maybe I still was in the race. I worked a little harder to see if I could catch those folks. Eventually I did. I sized them up and said to myself, “see who you cycle with when your swim SUCKS. You've been doing this sport HOW LONG, and this is your cycling peer group?”
Thankfully I had a long hill to bury myself into to mask my inner-shame. I'm sure glad that my bike was shifting well and a had a 30 rear cog because I used it a lot. Another person passed me. Racer # 399. My age group! Here is your ticket to the finish line! I stayed in contact with him for awhile and actually started passing more people, maybe about 10 but in the crowd I lost contact with him. Despite the rapidly developing action, I was too calm. No sense of inner-urgency. No fight in my spirit. I took the downhills too cautiously, but I was riding a very steep bike position. Ok, well that's another excuse I told myself.
Passing the jail at Brannon Lake I was served up another serving of hopelessness, another group of people who were waaaay the hell too far in the distance. Again, I felt much better about myself on the uphills when the gradient served as my slave-master & I really had to try. Again, I was grateful for that 30 cog as I was able to catch more people. Sadistically, I derived pleasure in hearing their laboured breathing while I slithered past them, venom coursing in my veins, and having thoughts of “screw you, you naturally-gifted swimmers.” Like all good things in life, the hill was over and another demoralizing downhill appeared with a few morsels off in the distance.
As I rounded another corner, a clearing in the forest appeared, as did another uphill – and there he was - Symonds, powering down the hill and looking to me very pissed off (or was that projection) and focused as he powered – not floated down the hill. Who would I see next coming back from the turn-around? As it turned out, nobody at least not for a very long time.
Then, finally the gaggle of cyclists ahead of me showed itself, and there were many of them. Ambrosi yelled at me and smiled. I thought to myself, “how the hell can he do that?” “He can't be trying hard enough.” And then I thought to myself when I am on a caffeine high and things are rolling on the bike, I do the same damn thing. The feeling is a mixture of having joy in seeing a person that you know on the race course, and an even bigger joy in knowing that they are safely behind you. More people came streaming toward me and thankfully I was on an uphill to give me an outlet for my displeasure. Then came the turn-around and my hopelessness lifted.
I slowed down a lot to take in my gel and while I was doing that, was gratified to see all the people who were behind me. Some of them looked like they were very fast people who wanted to catch me. This was exciting! With an awakened sense of purpose, I replayed my mantra of “zoning in” and got on with the task at hand, trying to get to the start of the run as quickly as possible. Clearly the sugar and caffeine were kicking in although I wished I had that feeling about 20 kilometres earlier. I heard breathing behind me, and the sound of wheels, and then a high pitched engine sound. Focus, focus, focus. Zone in. Breath from the diaphragm.
In my zen-like state two other old bastards passed me. I was amused because none of us seemed to be trying that hard as we ascended a long climb. I dropped back a bit and let these clearly stronger cyclists set the pace. I sensed a bit of both camaraderie and competitiveness as we worked that hill together for what seemed to be about a minute or so. Near the crest of the hill our partnership dissolved. As I soloed the last 5 kilometres I got fairly cautious, heeding the race director's advice about the sharp turn and chain drop hill. When it appeared, I was more than ready for it, and swung widely into the turn, building momentum, and slingshoting the entire thing. One more sharp turn and it was up the final climb before T-2. Uncharacteristically, I really poured on the coal on the rise, maybe in an a subconscious attempt to atone for my tepid effort for most of the ride.
T2:
Since my legs were so fresh, I was able to land a fairly graceful dismount and gingerly danced my way to the bike racks. My rack was tight with bikes, meaning of course that my age group competitors were already on the run course and putting time into me. No worries! I downed my 5 Hour Energy Drink clumsily, pulled on my shoes, and lumbered onto the run course with hat and race number in hand.
Run:
Just as I hit the run course, I made the decision to tighten my shoes just a little bit more; there was no need to have the shoes squirming all over the place on this challenging run. Just as I was doing this, one of the old guys from the hill ran past me. Judging from his weathered face, I was sure that he was in my age group and I gave chase. A wise decision, I thought, let him set the pace and if he faulters, I'd be there to pick up a position. We dutifully made our way around the first lap, passing only about three people in the process. I admired his steady pacing, I'd gain a bit on the downhills but he would maintain his lead over me on the uphills. That was, except, for the monster hill near the end of the first lap where he really slowed down and I almost passed him. Indeed! His weakness was exposed and my plan was hatched!
I maintained close contact with him on the second lap until a momentary lack of focus caused me to fall down a steep hill. Instead of landing with a thud, however, I landed with a boing and sprang right back to my feet in an almost cartwheel-like manouver. My mishap had cost me nary a minute but the sting of the trail rash and the shock of the tumble caused me concern, as my hamstrings began to cramp. More importantly, the old guy that I was chasing for the past 30 minutes was clearly out of sight. Again, having my mantra of “zone in” paid dividends and I tuned into the rhythm of my breathing, the imprint of race pace burned into my psyche over 40 years of running. A calmness overcame me and I was just a lung and pair of legs – no feet, no arms, no head, and gladly, no pain from the scrapes and bruises I had earlier sustained. The leaves of the trees were pumping oxygen-rich air into me and I was simply an animal in the bush on the hunt. Well, an animal that loves F2C glyco-durance! At the last aid-station I called out for it, gulped it down on the run, and prepared myself for an opportunity that may present itself in the last 5 minutes of the race.
And there it was, ANOTHER person in my age group wearing a Life-Sport jersey, a proxy for my long-term nemesis – Dan Smith. He was walking up the hill, holding his knees and panting away. And again, just like in the lap previous, I sensed weakness, but now it was time to play the last cards in my hand. I grunted like only a fifty-five-year old man can, winced, and buried myself on the remaining 20 metres of the hill. My legs shuddered and then smiled at me because they knew what lay ahead. Feeling more alive that I have in months, I galloped down the hill in terror, not because a small misstep would garner another set of gashes and bruises, but because I might get passed.
Maybe my body held back on the bike just to capitalize on this moment. My unphased legs were up for the challenge and there was no response from my competitor, just more opportunity. Not more than 100 metres away was my “pacer.” Sustaining my suicide pace I was gaining and gaining on him. Maybe this is the difference between third and second. The world condensed itself into a small slit of light as I let my body combust itself for 50 more metres, but alas, it was not to be and he crossed the line comfortably ahead of me.
Then, I crossed, in a zombie-like state and continued to run through the finish shoot, well-aware that if I were to suddenly stop like THEY WANTED ME TO IN ORDER TO GIVE THEM MY TIMING CHIP, my muscles would seize and I would collapse, just like I have on far too many occasions. Yeah, I finally turned around and gave them their timing chip and collected my finisher's medal. Among those at the finish line, there seemed to be a bit of concern about my bloodied and gravel-stained tri-suit. It was Greg Ambrosi who doggedly sicced a medic on me and Greg did not relent until he saw me have a chat with the medic. I relented and got cleaned up and bandaged.
Stats:
Swim 30:25, 3/10 in age group. T1: 1:22. Bike 1:17:53, 4/10 in age group. T2: 49. Run: 52:35, 3/10 in age group. Final time 2:43:04 = 3/10 in age group. 29/123 overall.
Lesson learned:
Seed more aggressively for swim. Longer distance intervals in swim training. Push swim a bit harder. Get more caffeine and sugar into you on the bike as soon as you can. Find ways to motivate yourself while you are alone on the bike. Zone in mantra works! Your new run strategy is to settle in, zone in, look for opportunities, do surges while alone. Dare to fail in the last 2 k.
Post-Script:
As it turned out, those guys who I thought were in my age group were ALL younger than me, hence the name of this race report! I was 5 minutes out of first and 65 seconds out of second. There's some room for optimism here. Not a bad start to the season.
http://www.fitspeek.com the Fraser Valley's fitness, wellness, and endurance sports podcast
