My only regret in this race is falling in love with the podium and getting jilted… I had won for my age group last Sunday’s 70.3, and two years ago I had just aged up and came in 2nd at this race. In between came last year’s Did Not Finish at this very race (my only DNF and only race of which I did NOT blog): I hadn’t finished because of back spasms, and when I got off the bike could not run a step. So, really, if I finish this race, it’s a 100% improvement over last year. And yet, I still coveted the podium.
So, I do my normal pre-race routine (for which I was taunted by Alan Golds, who drove us to Rye Playland Beach the day before we raced to register and swim the waves, feel the salt water: “you’re getting up at 3:30 a.m.?!”). Yeah, I need an hour to shovel down all that nutrition. Yeah, I already had racked my bike, but had to plan… For example, to prevent the helmet shield from getting covered with dew or humidity, cover the whole helmet with part of the large towel where bike shoes await. There. A new efficiency.
I stroll down the row to see Zander, John McD, Tom Andrews and Kevin Carlsten getting ready, racked very near each other and giving me a shout out. Nice to see the Home Team. Our newest plebe, Michael Litsky, is doing his first Olympic distance (0.9 mile swim, 25.6 mile bike, 6.2 mile rrrrrrrun), after his first Sprint distance this summer. “Ah, welcome to the Dark Side, Mike…”
Stroll down to the beach at Rye Playland – I’m so early, it’s not clear where the gate is unlocked – and a couple dozen of us watch a beautiful sunrise waiting for the lifeguards to get out on kayaks. Relaxing warmup, but the air and water are both around 67 degrees and as I predicted, I’m shivering for the next 20 minutes. Bruce Kaliner is waiting as well – he took first place to my second place in 2017 – and I realize I need to avoid starting the swim with him, I’ll be swimming HIS race instead of my own … So I hang out with Kevin, always a source of positive energy.
Rolling, self-seeded start. I had done the Toughman a week ago at a 1:44 pace, so went for the “1:45 or Faster” section. (Shut UP, Zander! Not all of us swim at 1:10!). The only starting horn is for the first group – those promising collegiates, who look fast, but ‘tis a pleasure to later pass them on the bike and run – and the rest of us wait 3 seconds at a time, like cattle, to run into the water. I splash up to my thighs, then almost waist deep then, okay, swim, dammit! Feels smooth, strong, more relaxed than fast – trying to feel my lats engaged is harder with the full sleeve wetsuit – drafting briefly, passing here and there, mostly clear water and of course that beautiful sunrise is now a bright glare in my face. So it’s hard to see the buoys, but there are a lot of them (weird, a giant ball amidst the other pyramids) and that reassuring 500-yd. buzz from the Garmin suggests that I’m making progress.
Turn at the outer point (just beyond the jetty – Alan had teased Mike that we had to swim to the horizon), maybe 15 yards to the next red buoy, then some confusion as three or four guys ahead of me start heading towards the buoys from the first leg instead of straight into shore – another fine lesson of Racing MY Race; literally, “that’s the wrong course, guys.” Maybe a current was pushing against me on the way out, maybe the same one helps to push to shore, but it feels great, and 0.9 Miles is DONE. More water to run through, get onto shore and start stripping my wetsuit and RUNNING uphill to transition among the folks taking their sweet time. And Jeff Boyer, coach for some friends, shouting from the sidelines, “Ah, THERE’s someone who’s racing!”
T1 feels fast and relatively efficient, and the helmet-under-towel works well (I don’t lose more time wiping off that shield/visor) and I am OUT just after Bruce K, my nemesis-for-a-day.
The road is pretty broken up so I can scarcely ride in the aero position for the first 4 Miles, and I am breathing pretty steady and unlike last week’s 70.3 I am more consistently in zone 2, cranking up the watts, yes there are hills but so much shorter than I’ve been suffering, I’m passing a lot of people and only occasionally passed by others, but almost no one seems to be in my age group. A few fast descents, one (younger) guy to whom I warn “on your left” later passes me and says, “I’ve seen you before at another race – you pass me on the downhill flats and I get you on the hills!” At about mile 20, I pass him, and knowing the elevation map, say “There are no more hills, Red Baron.”
I get to T2 and lo, mine is the first bike on our rack. And I get out before Bruce, who says hello and I say goodbye.
I am ready for a fast, light run, bouncing off the springy boards of the boardwalk along the Rye Playland amusement park, off into that darn unshaded marsh, but it’s not as long and awful as prior races, and as I actually reach the turnaround, I realize (a) I am running towards Bruce, which means I’m ahead, but that he’s chasing me, so I am running from a demon, and (b) with a shorter race – 10k rather than last week’s half marathon — every single mile is harder because it is faster. I later do the math, and I’m pushing 14% harder than the 9:00 min./mile average with which I was delighted for the Half Marathon at the end of last week’s 70.3. That’s a big difference.
Goal is first two miles in zone 2, and I slow down a little after the hill that goes past the transition area (and the crowds of spectators, a gauntlet before hitting the tree lined streets of Rye) to bring my heart rate down from 154. (I went out too fast in Florida last April, I won’t do that again!). Gulp down my liquid nutrition – last of the UCAN – and then wish I could throw away my hydration belt….
And then it’s every mile by feel, pushing as hard as I can in that moment, ignoring the watch. Mile 3 feels solid but hard, and I decide that Mile 4 will be lighter, not slower but landing more lightly and feeling my full height, I pass someone in my age group (big guy with 56 on his calf; great, maybe I will get 2nd or 3rd) and where oh where is that turnaround, it is a really long time to reach Mile 5, but as I run back I see coming towards me Alan and Tom and… Bruce, and I realize he’s close but unless he gets a lot faster he won’t catch me, and I’m dying for that right hand turn into the temporary fairgrounds and finally it’s here, Mile 6, those last 0.2 Miles down the grassy chute are killing me, I later learn that my heart rate climbed from the 160s to 173, and I raise my hands for the Finish!
Done, done, done! And almost immediately I’m greeted by Danny Sokol, whom I’d met in prior years, and he’s extremely fast on the bike and run and… he has aged up to my group. And I’m thinking if he has 1st Place, I’ll have 2nd, that’s cool. But Danny announces that he came in 3rd. And turns out, someone else came right after him, so I came in 5th (and Bruce in 6th).
Disappointing after taking 1st Place the week before, but.. Oh, well. You can’t control who shows up on race day. And if Danny, stunning athlete that he is, only took 3rd, well,this was a competitive race.
Bottom line; 5/39 AG, 73/600 OA. Swim in 28:30 (=1:47 min/100 yds). Bike in 1:19:59 (=19.9 mph). Run in 48:05 (7:45 min/mile). T1 in 2:28, T2 in 1:51, a grand total of… 2:40:56.
The dumb thing is feeling this need to apologize, as if completing a fifth triathlon in the year and the second in 8 days wasn’t sufficient. “Oh, alas, I am not as fast as I used to be.” What athlete doesn’t wish they didn’t age? And who doesn’t covet the podium, whether from up close or a distance?
Slower than past years, but a solid, hardworking result on each part. And 100% better than last year – because I finished this year. During the race, I felt great – and no injury, a huge accomplishment. I was craving a PR – but that’s not realistic. I’m older, and it’s nice to work towards being faster, but makes no sense to be disappointed if I don’t improve on what I’ve done in the past.
And our team did well. Alan took the podium (3rd Place for 60-64 – he’s disappointed for ending his 1st Place streak), Kevin takes 5th overall for the aqua bike (hamstring injury prevented him from running), John takes 5th for 50-54, Zander takes 5th for 45-50, and Mike Litsky finishes his first Oly.
A day full of successes, and the end of a season. Maybe a running race or two in the next couple of months, but I am soooo done with triathlons for 2019!