Delaware Diamondman Triathlon
Sept. 10, 2006
People who have handicaps have to try harder, and one of my handicaps is absent-mindedness, so I stood in the transition area and stared down at my bike and towel for a really long time trying to figure out what I was forgetting. Nothing. . . so, I was ready to head over to the mandatory pre-race meeting that was about to happen, after which we’d walk down the four-tenths of a mile path to the swim start. All I had to do was put on my wetsuit and grab my swim cap and . . . goggles! Oops, back out to the parking lot to fetch them out of my backpack. Did that, put on my wetsuit, and went over to listen to the meeting. Then down through the woods to the waters of Lums Pond, which is actually despite the name quite sizeable. I was part of the second wave (white caps). Off went the reds, and then we piled in for our in-water start. The slope was very gradual, and the bottom was very mucky and muddly. We lined up between the two kayaks that were serving as our starting line and go! It was off!
I was surprised to see out of the corner of my eye that some of the guys were actually running in the water, which was at least knee-high despite the fact that we were some ways from shore, instead of swimming – looked to me like a really tiring way to start off a half iron man. Anyway after colliding with a few swimmers in the first 30 seconds or so (and swallowing a mouthful of pond water – yum), I settled into a good rhythm and was off to the first buoy, which was to the right of our start on the counterclockwise course. Went tightly around it (90-degree turn) for the long stretch to the turnaround, and noticed that most of the swimmers were quite far off to my right. Seemed like they were taking it kind of wide – probably all following the same strong but slightly off-course leader. I doubled checked my sighting & headed for the next buoy. I looked around a lot trying to find someone to draft off of, since they say that really helps, but no one was nearby except red-cap back-of-the-packers – the whites were all way off to the right. So I just swam. The turnaround buoy was quite a distance away, and it took awhile. Part of the way through my throat got really dry so – what the hell – I sipped some pond water (I already had some in my stomach already, I figured).
I figured that when I rounded the buoy people would bunch up and I’d find someone to draft off of – but no luck. There was a bit of a clutch there, and someone right behind me, but the only people I saw were way ahead of me or red caps I was passing. Coming around that buoy, I rammed into a guy who was swimming the wrong direction – I wonder what was up with that? Anyway, I never did find anyone to draft off of. But, my swim felt strong and consistent, and I felt good coming out of the water. I buzzed past the rows of shoes people had left for themselves (the second time in my triathlon career that my barefoot running has helped me) and up that path back into the triathlon area. (On the path I passed one woman; I remember she was wearing flip-flops.) I kept looking for the timing mats but there were a lot of mats put down for runners’ comfort and I couldn’t tell where the timing mat was, and whether the long run from the water back to the bikes would be part of my T1 or my swim time. As I ran into the bike area, people were standing around cheering us as we went by, and someone yelled to me, “white cap – good job!” I was heartened to hear that confirmation that I was ahead of the bulk of the white caps.
(I later learned that my swim time was 34:31, and my transition 1:15, making it clear that the mats were at the end of the run – and that I was probably a little faster on the swim that in my swim at the Kinetic of about 32:30. Probably at least a good minute faster if the run was really 4/10 of a mile, but it didn’t seem that long).
Off with wetsuit – took longer than I’d like – on with shirt, pockets stuffed with 2 bananas, a bunch of gels and my bike gloves – on with helmet, and I wheeled my bike toward the bike-exit. Jumped on in my bare feet and pedaled up to speed. I was really glad to see that unlike most, this bike course did not begin with an uphill ride; it was a nice easy downward slope it seemed, which made for a relaxed start as I slid my feet into my shoes, tightened up the straps, took a good drink, got down into aero and settled in for the 56 mile ride. Here’s a picture of me shortly after getting on the bike:
I felt good on the bike at first. I tried to tell myself not to take it too hard, despite the stray people who were passing me, some at an alarming clip. Remember, I reminded myself, constant effort feels too easy at first. This was a good bike course for me – fairly flat with lots of nice, gradual hills and nothing too steep. I like not being in the first wave, I decided, because instead of only being passed, I get to do some passing as well – it’s just better for morale. It was a gorgeous, perfect day for a bike ride.
Almost perfect, anyway. As I rounded a corner and headed East in the direction of Delaware Bay, I got smacked right in the face with a Hains Point-level wind. Tucked down tighter and kept on pedaling – and reminded myself that I’d have that wind at my back on the way home. Throughout the rest of the jigsaw-shaped course, there were regularly times when a headwind was definitely a factor. Somehow, I never really was able to appreciate the wind when it was at my back, I only noticed it when it was in my face. (Perhaps we’re all Republicans at heart when it comes to biking – we’re super-conscious of every obstacle, but take our advantages for granted. I sure noticed every time the wind slowed me down, but if I was going 40 km an hour on an uphill grade with barely a rise in my heart rate – well, that was just my God-given natural strength asserting itself.)
Here is a picture of the bike course (Lums Pond, antler-shaped, is visible top left – we started west, did a loop, then headed east on an out-and-back):
The only real hill was this giant bridge. The web materials said something about a one-mile climb to get to the top of it – and it turns out they weren’t kidding. Once I reached the top, heading south, there was a beautiful view of the Delaware bay off to my left – and a giant nuclear power plant with an enormous white plume of steam dominating the horizon straight ahead, which kind of killed the pastoral buzz. From the bridge to the turnaround point (about the 30th to the 50th km in the 90 km course) I fell into kind of a niche in the field, with no one passing me and not passing anyone – I began to feel almost alone out there. At the water station I ditched my CVS tupperware water bottle I bought the evening before (complete with straw – my water bottle being another thing I forgot for the race).
At some point the leader passed me going the other direction, and then a few minutes later, another, and then another. I was heartened that I was only an estimated 2 km away from the turnaround and had only seen 4 guys pass me the other way (though there were a whole lot more in those 2 km). When I hit the turnaround point, and saw the large numbers of bikers behind me, it knocked me out of my feeling of isolation by making me realize just how many people were back there, with nothing on their minds (or so I imagined) except passing me.
By the turnaround point I still felt quite strong – but I also felt quite uncomfortable. For some reason, my butt was really hurting me (never usually a problem on long rides). I realized that another thing I forgot before the race was to readjust my seat forward (it always slips back over time). Plus I was wearing a new pair of tri shorts, maybe that was the problem. Or, maybe I just hadn’t spent enough time training in prolonged aero position. My feet and knees were also hurting some. By the last quarter my shoulders were starting to hurt, and my back a little too. So in the last 40 km of the ride I was kind of actually looking forward to getting off the bike & doing some running (ha! rueful laughter). I remember feeling not so much tired as uncomfortable in the final half, quarter of the bike. I certainly did not feel the pervasive weakness and burning in my thighs setting in that I felt on the more hilly Kinetic Half the previous April. I kept it steady, probably was slowed down a little, but also did nothing like a burst of speed to the finish or anything like that.
As I came into the transition area, I pulled my feet out of my shoes and did a moving hop from the bike straight into a jog without ever coming to a full stop – lots of fun! I had also rubber-banded my shoes on the way out so I wouldn’t have to put them on. Hardly necessary in a 5.5 to 6-hour race, but I figured it’s good practice and good not to get my cleats muddy (esp. on the way out), and again, just kind of fun.
Here is a picture of me at just about that point:
I actually forgot to look at my watch at this point, so I never had a precise knowledge of my performance at the time, but I had a general sense that I was doing quite well. I later saw online that my time on the bike was 2:40:20, which I am pleased with. My baseline was always to keep my speed above 30 km per hour in the 90 km race, which of course would mean a 3:00 time. Here I averaged 33.5 km/h (almost 21mph), so I was happy with that. It was a mostly flat course, of course, but I elevated my relative standing (always a rough measure but the only one I have) from 107 out of 204 in the Kinetic to 82nd out of 360. (On the swim I’d gone from 41/204 to 47/360).
At this point in the race (exiting T2), later analysis reveals, I had a time of 3:14:51 and I was in 63rd place out of 270 male finishers. If I could just equal my run from the Kinetic of 2:11, I’d finish with a very strong time of around 5:25.
Into transition, off with helmet. Used gel packets out of right pocket. Gloves out of right pocket (where I’d stuck them 5 minutes before end of bike). On with socks. On with shoes. On with race belt. Quickly search my duffel bag for my baseball cap; I was kind of irked because online somewhere it said the run course was shady, but in the pre-race meeting – the one right before the swim after I’d already set up – he told us that it was totally exposed. No luck in the duffel – I had left my baseball cap and broad-brimmed hat in the car. Damn! I said. I did grab these really cheap goofy-looking (but not in any Jackie-O kind of way) sunglasses I’d thrown in there almost as an afterthought.
Out the gate I went, with my usual dread reluctance to get moving again after T2, and around the long curving road around the park camping area out to the main road. After about 30 seconds I’d realized I forgot to take my one uneaten banana out of my left pocket (and my one used banana peel). Damn! I said. Then, before I even got to the exit of the park, alarm bells went off when I felt my right hamstring tightening up – CRAMP!!
Here is a picture of me probably shortly before that moment:
Damn! I said. This was a first for me in a race, and something that has only hit me once, maybe twice in training. I wondered if I was dehydrated (on the bike I had drunk one 32-oz bottle and 2 probably 24 or 28 oz bottles, was that enough? ) or needed salt or something. It got tighter and tighter, and I started to flash on visions of DNFing. By the time I crossed the highway to follow the road down to the canal, I was seriously limping. I massaged my thigh as I ran, and ran without bending my right knee, and tried to will the cramp out of existence and run through it. To my great relief, it started to fade and after another minute or so was gone, at least for now. Fortunately I am forgetful – did I mention that – and forgot all about it and didn’t worry about it any more for the race and in fact it was not a factor after that.
But, aside from the burdensome banana in my side and the fleeting leg cramp, I could tell this was not going to be a strong run. I was feeling as poor in the first 30 minutes of this run as I had in the last 30 minutes of the runs that I considered my bad runs in training. I started to get flashes on walking – the lower, ancient, reptilian parts of my brain were trying to order my higher (stupider?) lobes to come to a halt. When I start getting those signals, I know I’m in trouble. I think in the first aid station – which seemed to take *forever* to arrive – I may have actually stopped running ever so briefly to down water, something I never did once in the Kinetic (I also ditched the banana there). I ran for 30 minutes, and I was really feeling oppressed psychologically by the sun bearing down on me, plodding along this miserable path alongside this miserable canal. And I hadn’t put on sunscreen, which I heard inhibits sweating & thus cooling. (Though the sad thing is that it was not really that hot, probably just a few degrees above 80). Suddenly I looked up and the path split, and we were supposed to run up this really steep hill. And I saw this manly looking guy ahead of me, and he was walking up it. And my reptilian brain ordered me to follow suit and my human brain allowed that if the other guy could walk then I suppose I could walk too, and I was always terrible at hills so that would be inefficient anyway I should save my energy for this flatter parts of this long run wouldn’t that be better in the end anyhow and there I was, I had lost my walking virginity.
I walked up to the top, where there was an aid station, and walked through the aid station sucking in more water, and then started running again alongside my fellow walker, and tried to get in a conversation with him as a way of forgetting my pain, which worked quite well at the Kinetic, and that worked for a few minutes but this guy didn’t seem to want a running buddy, so I left him at the next aid station, where I again walked. For the next seven miles or so it was a running battle between the Reptile and my Ego over whether to walk or run, and I ended up mostly running, except for 2:00 or 3:00 breaks at aid stations, or when there was a big hill, or when I got really tired. Mostly I made it from aid station to aid station managing 10-minute runs or so, to the turnaround point and several miles back. I drank a lot more than I did on the Kinetic. At each aid station I took 2 waters and drank one and poured the other down my chest and back. At one point I peed in my pants while I was walking – pouring so much water on myself it was barely noticeable I’m pretty confident (nontriathletes reading this – hard to imagine, but just in case – this is something that is done in long triathlons, not a sign of bodily collapse or anything). Around the 8 or 9 mile point I took a gel. Then I started to take some longer rests, like 4:00, in the hopes of restoring my strength for a good push home. As it turned out I was mostly restoring my strength for new 10-minute runs.
At the turnaround point, I turned around and got hit in the face with a nice stiff blast of wind – and it felt really good, cooled me right down. I’ve never been demoralized by wind, it’s the sun that gets me down.
Around the 10-mile point, I saw it was about 5:08, and I realized that if I did a really strong final 5k I could come in not much past 5:30 and be very happy with the day despite my pathetic un-manly run. Around that point, I finally felt the resurgence of strength and inspiration I was waiting for, and I had a good run for 15 minutes or so. But, my lizard brain had other ideas, and I soon lapsed back into my walk-run-walks, with my runs getting significantly shorter now, like every 3-4 minutes. At one point I did a walk and started to run, only to come around a corner 60 seconds later and see a big hill, and so I walked again. No pride left whatsoever. At this point the Lizard was not just demanding that I stop running and walk, but that I lie down in the bushes on the side of the path and curl up into the fetal position. I gave up on the goal of a good time, and then fell back on the goal of beating my time from the Kinetic, which was 5:42:50. As time went on and the Lizard kept making me walk, I began to increasingly worry I was going to miss even that.
All throughout the run, vast swarms of racers sped past me. Though I did vaguely recall seeing a lot of people running the other direction for quite some time after the turnaround – by the end, I doubted that there was anyone who was going to finish thsi race behind me. All I could think was, I swam so well! I biked so well! And now look at all these people – young, old, men, women – people who swam & bike way slower than me – speeding past me with such ease! What a waste! There were 4-5 guys who were kind of in my boat, at least. I kept passing them as they walked, & they me as I walked. I grew to hate each of them. In fact, I hated pretty much anything that came into my visual field at this point.
I was so pathetic that even after I saw the 12-mile marker, I still took a walk. Finally, when I saw runners ahead of me crossing the road ahead, from the right side of the road where we were running, across to the entrance to the park, I decided enough was enough and I was going to run until the end if it killed me, and besides I had to beat my Kinetic time. So I “sped” off and quickly entered the park onto the campground road, and quickly got a reminder of just how damned *long* that road was. It was the longest 7:33 of the day from that last walk to the finish line, and I think the Lizard would have won out and I probably would have walked even there if my higher brain was not so conscious of all the people along the road cheering me on and how really, really pathetic it would be to start walking so near the finish line.
So it actually did just about kill me it felt like but made it across the finish line, and steadied myself against a railing while they clipped off my timing chip and gave me the finisher’s medal, and then I let the Lizard have his way and I hobbled over to a shady tree and lie down flat on my back spread-eagled on the grass for a good long time.
Here is a picture of me at the finish line:
I saw from my watch that I did beat my Kinetic time, preserving some semblance of a moral victory, with an overall time of 5:41:34 – admittedly only 1:16 quicker, but quicker nonetheless.
The big question for me was just how bad was my run. Looking at my chrono splits (one thing I was good at was hitting the button almost every time I stopped or started running), I see I walked for a total of about 29:00. With the splits finally out now on Tuesday, I see my run time was an execrable 2:23:49, or nearly 11:00 per mile.
On the other hand, for all the walking I did I was only 14 minutes slower than my Kinetic run, where I never walked. Then again, 14 minutes is a lot of time in a race.
I finished 136th out of 270 male finishers, and 35/63 in the 35-39 age group. That means I had been passed by 73 men on the run -- more than all those ahead of me before the run.
It’s not clear what the problem was. The possibilities include:
- Not enough tapering (did a hard ride and a long run and a solid swim the weekend before).
- Not enough brick workouts or workouts longer than about 2 or 3 hours.
- Went too hard on the bike.
- Didn’t drink and/or eat enough, and got dehydrated or low on sugar.
- Poorly acclimated or trained for runs in the sun.
- Not mentally tough enough and allowed myself that initial walk which let the lazy Lizard establish dominance.
Now, Tuesday, my legs are very sore – good sore (muscles building), not bad sore (joints or ligaments), if that’s any clue. The good news was that during the run, leg soreness was never a problem for me, as it has been in the past on long runs; I think I’ve trained my way past that problem for runs under 14 miles. My problem was cardio tiredness.
I lean toward the explanation fof needing more tapering, and possibly dehydration/lack of sugar, since I didn’t feel like I spent myself on the bike and looking back at my Kinetic race report I’m not sure I ate enough this time. I also really wished I had my big hat.
In any case, I know I need to do more bricks, a little more taper perhaps, and keep working on that run. After lying on my back under a tree for a while, the desire for food finally overcame the desire not to move (all decisions were entirely up to my reptilian brain at this point) and I helped myself to the yummy grinders, potato chips and tangerines, packed up my bike & transition stuff, changed my clothes, & hopped in the minivan to drive home.
I didn’t feel great about the race when I finished, my feelings being dominated by that ugly run, but I’m feeling better and better about it as I get a little more distance and perspective. I did what I had to do to get through it and I beat my Kinetic time and I made the top half of the field, and if I can improve my run without sacrificing my bike, I’ll be in pretty respectable shape.
Full results at
http://www.piranha-sports.com/images/OVERALLRESULTSFINALforDT2006.pdf
A navigable Google map of the bike course is at
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=383178
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