Last Race of the Season

This week is one of the most bittersweet weeks of the year for me.  On the one hand, I've been training for the better part of six months or so (taking a few weeks off for that pesky April broken bone), so I'm probably in some of the best shape of the year.  It's also the week leading up to my last triathlon of the season.  Sure, there are other races I could do in October or November, but that requires travelling farther and farther at greater and greater expense. So, for the third straight year, I'll pack my bags on Saturday night, try to get a good night's sleep and get up around 4:45am on Sunday morning to drive about an hour for one of my favorite races.  All of the other races I do each year find me surrounded by friends, family, or both.  Brierman is a lonely endeavor.  It is in complete contrast to the Dewey Beach race.

At Dewey, there are over 1,000 competitors.  I usually know at least 4 or 5 of them and both of my parents usually make the trip to watch the race.  My wife is there, my kids there, my friends parents are there.  On top of that, we almost always run into other people we know at the Dewey Beach Tri.  It's usually somewhat warm at Dewey.  The race is flat (except for the occasional ocean wave).  The race is short.  At Dewey you can get by on just a single bottle of water, no energy gels, and certainly not any sort of endurance fuel.  By noon at Dewey, you're sipping cocktails, trying to keep your face from getting sunburnt, and figuring out how you're going to spend the rest of the afternoon.

I make the one hour car trip out to Greenbrier State Park, near the top of a ridge halfway between Frederick and Hagerstown, alone.  I don't expect anyone I know to be there.  It's been cold each of the past two years.  I'm usually in a sweatshirt and windpants up until the last moment possible.  The only flat part of the Brierman race is the swim.  The bike is about 22 miles of rolling hills, including one 1.5 mile stretch that just goes up and up and up.  The run is about 4 miles of thigh burning, knee crushing up and downs.  Brierman requires that you plan your nutrition.  You must take in calories or you'll run out of steam before you finish, which happens approximately 2 and a half hours after you start.  By noon at Brierman you have packed up your stuff and are usually halfway home with hopes of taking a nap on the couch while watching some NFL football.

The two races are about as opposite as you can get, and I love them both.  The festive atmosphere, short race, and after party at Dewey is always fun.  I look forward to the good times at Dewey every year.  But Brierman holds a special place in my heart.  Brierman was the first race that I did by myself and the first race that I wasn't sure I could finish.  There's a camaraderie among Brierman participants that you just don't get at a bigger race.  The participants linger around after the race and clap for the winners of the various age (and weight) groups.  But my favorite thing about Brierman is the last mile of the run.  It's all downhill.  It's the last mile that I'll race until next year.  I always hit that last mile and think "put everything you've got into this one mile and you don't have to do it again for a long time."  I fly down that last mile, legs, knees, feet, ankles be damned.  I'm REALLY looking forward to that last mile on Sunday.

Note: Last year I missed my first podium finish by 6 minutes in this race.  I raced in the Clydesdale (200+ lbs) group and finished 4th in 2:34.56.  The course is back to its original 2008 configuration this year and my goal is to set a PR on the course (which means beating 2:33.33 from 2008) and hopefully go under 2:26 which I think would be good enough for a top 3 in the Clydesdale division.  I also hope that this is my last Clydesdale race.  I'm around 208 right now and I think I'll be under 200 lbs when next year's season comes around.

Dewey Beach Race Recap

First of all, I'd like to thank Igor for staying way, way, WAY offshore last weekend.  Some surf forecasts had called for up to 7 foot waves for Saturday.  I guess Mother Nature took pity on those of us who had been put through the ringer in 2009 and gave us something we could deal with instead.  That being said, I think the race organizer (or at least the guy with the starting gun) still had it in for us.  He sent the first wave of racers into the water just as a nice sized wave crashed onto the beach. It looked like the scenes from Braveheart when the two armies clashed.  Except instead of kilts, my brethren were clad in tight fitting triathlon gear or wetsuits.  While some were knocked back, all made it through the initial salvo, past the crashing waves, out to the first buoy and hung a right, where the current took over.  I was not in this first wave, I was in the second set of racers to head out, 4 minutes later, and without a wave crashing over us as we hit the water.

The Dewey Beach race is a short race, half mile swim, 7.2 mile bike, 3.1 mile run.  In 2008, the first year that I participated in this race, I completed the course in about 1:14.  This year, I was hoping to make it in 1:10.  I had done more swimming that I did in 2008 or 2009 and certainly felt better about my run.  But I really hadn't spent that much time on the bike since getting back from Ohio.  I mean, we only had two kids start school, a sister-in-law get married, work, and an ungodly heat wave during the one week I might have gotten in a ride.  So I don't understand why I haven't been riding more.  Anyway, 1:10 was my goal, but I wasn't convinced that I could do it.

The race started simply enough.  I walked as far up the beach and I thought I could without looking like I was lost.  In an ocean swim you have to swim about 100 yards out before you can turn and swim parallel to the beach.  The biggest mistake most first-timers make is assuming that you can start on the beach at the same spot as the buoy that's 100 yards offshore.  This is where the current comes in.  If you've ever swam in the ocean you know that you slowly move in one direction or another depending on the current.  Well, this effect also applies when you swim and has caused more than a few first timers to turn around, go back to shore, walk up the beach and start their swim over after repeated futile efforts to swim directly into the current to get around the buoy.  Others just give up.  Not wanting to suffer that fate myself, I always seem to err on the side of caution and start as far up the beach as I can without seeming out of place.  This strategy paid off again this year as I easily rounded the first buoy, navigated my way past the midway buoy and happily found the buoy that indicated the turn for home.  If you remember my last post, this buoy didn't exist last year because it was washed/blown away.  I managed to dodge a few breakers and found myself on the beach about 16 minutes after I had started.  Just a quick walk/run over the sand dune and then to find my bike.

There are over 1,000 people who participate in the Dewey Beach Triathlon every year.  This makes for the largest transition area of any of the races that I take part in.  Most transition areas have one side for coming in (either from the swim or the bike) and one side for going out (either for the bike or the run).  Due to the size and layout of this race, bike in/out is in the same place and run in/out is in another place.  I was well positioned for the run in/out, but that meant jogging through the entire transition area in cycling shoes with my bike....twice.  Not to mention being almost as far as you can get from the swim entrance.  But I found my bike, managed not to slip on the pavement in my cycling shoes, and took off.  And I mean took off!  I was averaging about 22-24 mph on the way out.  I was flying.  In my first race at Dewey I remember feeling the same way and thinking "I'm going to crush this bike ride!"  Fortunately, I remembered the hard earned lesson from that first race.  Going out fast on the bike only means that you're riding a tailwind, which, when you make the 180 degree turnaround, turns into a headwind.  22-24 mph out turned into about 16-18 mph coming back in.  Still, it was a good, but not great bike ride.  Back into transition with the bike, back to the back of the transition area without slipping in my cycling shoes and it was time to run.  45 minutes into the race.  I'd have to do a 25 minute 5k to make 1:10.  I haven't run a 25 minute 5k in a long time, much less after swimming and biking, but I decided that I'd go as hard as I could for as long as I could and trust my training.

It should be noted that I can't seem to do a triathlon without feeling like I have to pee from the start.  I've tried going before the race, but it doesn't seem to change anything.  Apparently I just hydrate well precarb loading" for the next one (see the pic above).

Back to the Washing Machine

As I write this, the countdown clock on the right side of the blog says I have less than 4 days until the 2010 version of the Dewey Beach Sprint Triathlon. This race holds a special place for me since it was the race that started it all.

I got into triathlons in 2008 when a bunch of my poker buddies told me about this triathlon that they were planning to do.  A few years before I met them, they had done this race as a motivator to get themselves in shape.  After a few years of expanding waist sizes, getting winded going up the stairs, and still not quiting smoking (for one of them anyway), they had decided that it was time to get in shape again.  And so, they had signed up for the Dewey Beach Sprint Triathlon and they wanted to know if I was interested.  Well, if you read my first post, you know that this was something I was definitely interested in doing.

I started out by running again.  Something I hadn't done seriously in years.  I'm still amazed at how winded I was after just one lap around the neighborhood (about 2 miles) on that first day back.  I mean, I just breezed through a 10 mile run today and felt great.  But those first two miles were tough.  Then I took the two older kids (WW wasn't born yet) and rented a bike and trailer and did 10 miles on the NCR Trail.  I even ran a 5k or two.  Swimming was the hard part, but we belonged to a neighborhood pool and I did a few laps.  My interest was starting to become more of a passion.

That year I finagled a new road bike for a birthday present.  Our annual vacation to Linwood in Ohio turned into a training camp.  I was doing two-a-days, including open water swims in Lake Erie.  At the end of our two week vacation, I completed my first race in Ohio, but it was still Dewey that had gotten me started.  And all of us made it to Dewey, full of excitement and a little competition.  I still remember at registration that year how one of the guys was telling me how the wetsuit he just bought was going to help him beat me (he didn't finish the swim and had left the race by the time we were done).

The Ocean that year must have know that there were some potential triathlon addicts among the 1,000 or so participants.  We were blessed with calm seas conducive to fast swims.  The sun wasn't too hot and I finished the race in 1:14.  It's a short race, 1/2 mile swim, 7.2 mile bike, 3.1 mile run, but, with the exception of my wetsuit wearing friend, we all finished.  We enjoyed a great post-race lunch and vowed to be back the next year.

In 2009 we were back, but with a smaller contingent this time.  The wetsuit decided that ocean swims weren't for him.  One of my sisters went off and had a baby.  Another friend had decided that riding his bike upright just wasn't enough fun and was still recovering from a bad case of road rash.  Those of us who hadn't been scared off by the rigors or training were in for a surprise when we crested the dunes last year.  The sea was angry, but apparently not angry enough to cancel the swim.  And so we dove into the breakers.  Starting 50 yards up the beach so we could make the first buoy without the current carrying us past it.  If you swam too close to the shore, you were constantly fighting the breakers.  I heard stories of people getting seasick while they swam.  The final buoy blew away down the beach, leading to the following exchange:

Me (treading water and yelling at some lifeguards sitting on their surfboards): Where's the buoy?
Lifeguards: We are the buoy!

All who participated agreed that it was like swimming in a washing machine.  The forecast, thanks to Igor, isn't looking much better for the 2010 version of the race.  So we'll just have to be prepared for anything.  If we go back into the washing machine, at least I'll know what to expect.  If they cancel the swim, I may do really well since I've been running a ton in preparation for the Richmond Half Marathon.  But maybe, just maybe, the ocean will know what we went through last year and grant us a pardon, for just a few hours, on Saturday morning.

Some Perspective

I know this blog is dedicated to my training efforts while also juggling the responsibilities of being a Husband, Father, employee, friend, etc...  So I promise, I'll get around to that part.  But first, a little perspective.

Nine years ago today I was in Northern Virginia conducting employee education meetings for one of our clients. Jenn was with me, but sleeping in at the hotel room.  As I got ready to start the first meeting of the day, walked by an employee's cubicle.  He was listening to the Howard Stern show and I overheard something about a plane flying into one of the World Trade Center towers.  Nobody knew much at that point and Howard was speculating about it being a small private plane.  And with that I dismissed the news and went about my business.  I conducted the meeting and emerged an hour later.  Why nobody had come in and stopped us to tell us about what was happening is beyond me, but at that time I think it still seemed unreal to just about everyone.  When I came out of the meeting, we went over to one of the TV's in their break room and tried to absorb what was happening.  I don't think that either tower had collapsed yet, but both were burning.  My first thought was to go back to the hotel and see Jenn.

Due to the blackout shades, she was still sleeping when I got over to the hotel.  I told her what was happening and we turned on CNN to watch the coverage.  We just sat there for a little while, not sure what to do or what was going on.  Eventually we checked out and I went back to my client's office.  We were still in a state of uncertainty about the scope of what was happening.  It was decided that there would be no more meetings that day and then I had to figure out how to get from Reston, VA back to Baltimore.  As we were figuring out what to do, the receptionist came over to me and said my Mom was on the phone.  You see, the cell towers were overwhelmed in Northern Virginia due to the plane that had flown into the Pentagon.  So I couldn't call her and she couldn't call me.  At the time I was travelling all the time, so Mom had no idea whether I was in the air or on the ground.  She had called my boss who had told her where I was and gave her the number.  Then she called their office and got me.  Relieved that I was on the ground and in the area, I told her that I'd call when I got home.  But that was the real trick, how to get home.  The rumor was that all the bridges in the DC area had been closed.  So we had to take a detour about an hour north of DC, through Frederick, to get home to Baltimore.  It was a beautiful day for a drive, but that was about the only thing beautiful about that day.  We made it home and, like everyone else, spent the rest of the day watching the coverage and dealing with the fact that we had just experienced one of the defining moments of our generation.

This morning, as I drove my son to his first soccer game, I realized that 9/11 was never something that my children had experienced, but that had shaped the world they live in now.  I realized that one day I would have to tell the story of where we were when it happened.  That I might have to explain how different the world was before it happened.  It is a solemn day for those of us who lived through it and we will never forget those who lost their lives both on that day and in the aftermath.

How does this relate to training for a triathlon?  Simple, whenever I encounter a difficult hill on the bike, a run that is really kicking my ass, a swim set that I really don't want to do, I remember, and I gain strength.  It doesn't have to be remembering those who died in 9/11, Iraq, or Afghanistan, it just has to be a remembrance of  someone who can't climb that hill, make that run, or do that swim.  That memory will give you strength and you'll realize that you're just bitching about something that those people, alive or dead, wish that they could do.  And as you think about that, the pain in your legs, your lungs, your arms, goes away.  And before you know it, your workout is done and you feel thankful that you have the ability to do it.

Remember.

Here comes the bride!

As many of you know, my sister-in-law is getting married this weekend.  Other than finding this picture of a running shoe wedding cake, what does that have to do with triathlon training you ask?  Let me tell you.

First of all, my wife is the Matron of Honor.  In other words, she has to do nearly everything the bride does while trying to keep the bride from flipping out because the bride is getting married in a few days.  Until the last week, I always through the maid/matron of honor didn't do much more than the best man (a role I've served in on several occasions).  As best man, you throw a bachelor party, help get everyone squared away with their tuxes, and make sure the groom gets to the wedding reasonably sober on the big day.  So naturally, I assumed that a maid/matron of honor would do the same sorts of things.  Holy crap was I wrong!  Apparently the maid/matron of honor is involved in many of the smallest details of the wedding.  Now maybe this is function of the fact that my wife is also the bride's sister and is almost as excited as the actual bride.  But either way, it means that training has to now be squeezed in between my work my wife's work, kid's schedules, my wife's training schedule for her half marathon, and whatever else comes up (like the state fair being this week).  Now I'm not only running to train, but also to work off the fried smores and oreos.  So, I ran on Monday night after the kids were in bed and clocked somewhere between 3 and 4 miles from 9:30 to 10-ish at night.  To make tonight's workout work, I went with the entire family up to my in-laws and then ran home (a little over 6 miles).  It pays to be flexible with all this other stuff going on.  Hmmm, maybe that's a theme we'll see throughout this little blog.

The second issue that a wedding introduces is that it literally removes days from your training schedule.  If I were a professional athlete this excuse probably would go over about as well as "the dog ate my homework."  Just look here at what Michael Phelps coach has said about his training discipline over the past year or so.  Apparently all of those celebrity appearances, parties, and whatnot led to him blowing off a few training sessions.  But I'm not a pro and I don't intend to give up some of the fun things in life just because I'm training.  I've hung out with those guys who say "I can't have a beer tonight, I'm training." and it's a bit of a buzz kill.  Well, I'm no buzz kill!  So the Friday morning golf, beer and cigars, Friday night rehearsal dinner, Saturday reception, and Sunday hangover/brunch all needed to be factored in to my training.  In other words, from Friday at 8 am until Monday morning, it's unlikely that I'll be running (unless I'm trying to get to the bar before last call), biking (unless it's the only way to get from one party to the next) or swimming (unless I fall in the inner harbor during the festivities).  This means that it looks like I'll be switching ends of the day for Friday's run.  I'll try to get 4 miles in before the golf/beer/cigars.  At least I'll be warmed up and loose by the time I get to the golf course.