First race of the year, and I had missed a lot of training because of our family’s losses during the winter. On my drive up to Harriman State Park — all of 30 minutes — I thought about what Coach Steve suggested: since I couldn’t reasonably expect much in the way of a finishing time, I might focus on the process, just checking in along the way how I was feeling and whether I was doing the best I could at that time. Which is really the obvious and best advice for everything else in life. A new attitude for me, frankly.
The race was only 400 people, roughly divided between the Olympic and 70.3 distance, and an odd distance to more easily accommodate the 70.3: 0.6 mile swim (instead of 0.9 mile, but it made it a simple two laps for the longer race); 28 mile bike ride (instead of 24.8 miles, to make two loops = 56 miles), but your standard 6.2 mile run.
I met some folks racking the bikes including Ryan Farr and Sermet Alver two other members of Coach Steve’s TEAM TRIENDEAVORS!, who found me because the bright red team shirt.
I also met the friendly Brian Gurski, and we ended up talking the whole time until the race began. Realized that virtually everyone at this race was younger than I, which confirmed my new definition of middle age: when you keep track of how old OTHER people are.
At the edge of Lake Welch, the 50+ year old men were the third wave. A guy at the front shouted out “We’re the more seasoned athletes!” To which I responded, “You mean, like salt and pepper?” (based on the color of hair and beards).
The water’s reported temperature had almost scared me away from racing — 57-61 degrees, according to a lake fishing website — so I had borrowed from Coach Steve a thermal wetsuit, which turned out to be unnecessary and a mistake: unnecessary because the water was probably in the upper sixties (teaching me not to trust an online temperature report that didn’t change during the week, despite warmer air temps), and mistake because I felt like I was a sausage. So, I got into a comfortable swim, but couldn’t push very much, because my arms felt restricted. Checked in: How am I feeling? Like it’s a nice day for a short swim. Lousy results: 23:16 (including the run up the beach), something like a 1:59 min/100 yds. 89/225 Overall.
Stripped off the suit before I left the beach — the water in the suit being the best lubricant for that purpose — and got through Transition 1 pretty quickly. As I left, a guy shouts out, “Go, Salt n’ Pepper!” T1 in 2:14 — now, 71/224 OA…
Bike was a very hilly course — 2,500 feet over 28 miles — and although I used to not care about hills because everyone was going to suffer with me, now that I’m 60, I feel it more…. Especially with a new condition: bursitis in my hips, which kicked in at around 20 minutes (rather than waiting until 45 or 60 minutes, back in the salad days…). So, I realized that skipping PT in favor of other training is simply not an option anymore; really, I might skip the workouts in the future in favor of PT, because when my hips are stiff and preventing me from generating power, what’s the point of trying to get stronger? But the good news with this new attitude: rarely do I marvel at the beautiful scenery, dappled sunlight through freshly green trees, chatting with the other slow to medium riders. (At other, longer races I’ve thought, “This is kind of pretty. So what. Everything hurts…”). On the second loop, found myself calling out “on your left, on your left!” Then apologizing when I realized the two folks ahead of me were slowing for that treacherous hairpin turn before climbing again….
Got through it, enjoying it more than most any other race (the silver lining to the hip pain limiting my wattage output), but another lackluster metric: 1:47 for 28 miles = 15.7 mph. 69/222 OA. Still, wishing I could tell my folks that it was going well…
Run was hilly too: 960 feet over the 10k. I’m just plugging along, noticing but not judging the pace, breathing hard but getting my heart rate more under control, it’s still pretty (though the pavement is pretty broken up, and I’m mostly staring at pavement) and I plan on cranking it out the last 2 miles but after pausing for the last of water stop my right hamstring starts to cramp up and I realize if I stop I’ll never start again so on we go. Not much left in the tank to get much faster, but i remember that it ends downhill and there’s the inflated FINISH LINE archway, and it’s DONE.
Run was 53:18 = 8:34 pace (a lot slower than I hoped, but all I could do today). Bottom line: 3:06:21, which is… 59/222 OA (pretty good for an older guy) and 1st in Age Group (… out of 2 finishers in the 60-64 bracket; I think 2 more guys dropped out; so, it could be worse!)
Real bottom line? I enjoyed this race more than most, because even though I couldn’t tap into the power/wattage/speed I’ve had in other events, I was in the moment without judgment for virtually all of it. “He CAN be taught.”
But also this was the first race after my mother died in January of this year, and my father in March. It was a rough winter. If my mother were alive, she would have been worried all day until I called to tell her I had survived; if my Dad were here, I’d have to tell him again what a triathlon is, and watch him shake his head and say, “Why would you do that?”
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