Although this race was a great one in so many ways, I’m having a hard time getting my hands around how to appreciate the success. I was slower on this race than last year on the same course. I oh so wanted to go all out and get closer to the podium, now that I had an Ironman under my belt, but at the end of my 4th year of triathlons, I guess I can’t PR every time, even on my local, every-year race.
First mistake: should have checked my mechanicals on the bike when I racked the day before, or ridden it a little after taking it out of neighbor/training buddy Alan Gold’s Cooper Mini. (Two bikes fit in the back! It’s like one of those stunts with clowns packed into a VW.) Hung out, got to the potty before the hordes arrived – in fact before there was any line at all – bump into Hastings racing teammates Tom Andrews and John McDermott, as well as racing buddy BJ Wilson (all the way from Beacon!). COLD morning and even colder on the beach by Rye Playland; though the water was warmer than the air, dipped in a little too early and ended up clench-jawed chattering while waiting for my swim wave. Great to talk with the wiser and more last minute Bruce Cadenhead – he warmed up around 5 minutes before we started (and wild to see the “mild-mannered actuarial from a great metropolitan newspaper” change in seconds to a powerful swimmer, focused and determined).
Horn blows and we are OFF. I’m on the far left side, what looks like a shorter distance to that first big orange buoy.
I can’t find anyone to draft off, and I suddenly taste first mental victory: that’s OK, I can swim 2.4 miles and this is shorter, and I am in my fast full-sleeve wetsuit and if there’s no one that fits my speed I will just do it alone. And the exertion is just that, work, and I am simply breathing when I can, keeping my head down, sighting when I can, and I may not be as fast as that first wave of capital S swimmers but I can swim hard and I start using my new mantra: “this is not who I am, this is what I do” (meaning, my identity does not hang in the balance of my performance). And I get to the first turn, it’s crowded but no one kicks me, and off to the second. And before turning down the longest leg along the breakwater I start feeling swells BEHIND me, the current is like a phalanx of dolphins carrying me to shore! The tide is low and I have to walk 20 yards in the water to get to the beach and I am done, and that was FUN, felt strong, and turns out it’s my best swim ever: 25:36 — but only 22/75 for my age group (guess we all enjoyed those waves – a tidal by-product of the Super Moon that day?). Anyway, it felt great.
Run up the beach and the long ramp to T1, suit slips off well with that spray-on stuff, I scowl at the arm warmers I had laid out because I’m not cold now!
I’m planning on biking hard and I start in a high heart rate zone, z3 for the first 5 miles, pass various dawdlers (I’m trying to be nice when I shout ,”on your left”, really I am) and then get into a z2 groove, this isn’t an Ironman, and I quickly realize that my back wheel is out of true and rubbing, every rotation, against a brake pad. I am not sure how to fix it but am dead certain that I’ll lose more time stopping to adjust it than just living with it, and it doesn’t stop me from leap frogging with a dark-helmeted 54 year old (whom I dub “Darth Vader” and to whom I later say “THERE you are!” when he passes me) and this really strong 67-year old (“you’re 15 years older than I am and you’re kicking my ass!”) and I had forgotten to get body-marked (it was so cold in the morning and no one at the entrance greeted me with a Sharpie) so I know Darth Vader and some 50-year old are in my age group but unless they see my tag flapping behind the aero seat post they don’t know I’m in theirs.
The road is really rough, cracked pavement and occasional cars, which are scary and sometimes slow us down (to the 67-year old: “car back! Car back!”) And at 0:45 my left hip is cramping so I take a salt tablet and a few minutes later I feel a little bit hungry so despite the three capsules of BCAA before the swim and the two more with caffeinated NUUN in my torpedo water bottle, I take a gel, and It. Tastes. Awful. But I feel strong. And at 2:05 I am just as dead certain that today I will finally break 2:12 on this course. Until I hit 2:12 and I am still riding (past the Playland Parkway speedometer light flashing 19 mph, thank you!). And I roll in in at 2:15. Darn. But: it was fun…
Jog to transition, swap the shoes and helmet for IM-branded hat (if you got it, flaunt it), start the run – and realize I left my race-belt with my bib at the bike! Start running back into transition; finally see a ref, who stops me from screwing up by crossing the mat again, and says with the race chip on my ankle I’m OK. But I realize why I should have been penalized: guys in my age group can’t even tell from my bib number that I’m stalking them.
Bright flat concrete out to the swamp/natural part of the amusement park, turnaround (there’s Alan coming back at me, go team!), back along the concrete and uphill to leave the park, and my pace is slower than I need if I’m going to improve on last year, and my feet slap heavy-footed through suburban streets and grabbing water but not walking the rest stops, this is only a 10k, and my watch from Friday’s workout is set to beep at every ½ mile and y’know, that’s kind of good, because at mile 3.5 or 4, I realize, this is only a 6 mile race. It’s not 26. And 6 is really doable. So I dig in, and try to accelerate, and “this is not me it’s what I do” gives me energy, because what I do is pass people, and suddenly so very soon I’m on the grassy shoot to the finish line and I am DONE!
[A civilized finish line: where you can enjoy Captain Lawrence IPA – with John McDermott and Tom Andrews, the Tri Division of the CMS Racing Team.]
And turns out: it’s my best mental game, and the first tri I actually enjoyed the whole race. Alas, 3 minutes slower than last year: 25:36 swim (= 1:46/100m – a PR!); 1:15:47 bike (= 19.8 mph; I’ve done better); and 45:45 run (= 7:23/mile, slower than last year).
Look, there’s many reasons I might have done better, but I’m not interested in excuses, I’m interested in getting comfortable with these results: with doing my best every race, but not doing a PR every race; with having a mental state that circumvents personal doubts; with finally enjoying three-thirds of the three-legged beast. The numeric results were not my best, but they were solid, and adding in some enjoyment, an overall success.
AND, because the amazing Bruce Cadenhead came in second overall (including a run that averaged 6:15/mile! At 50 years old!) I rolled down to 8/75, putting me in the top 10% for our AG. I’ll take it. Nice way to end the tri season.
And off to the NYC Marathon in 5 weeks …