Gettin' It Done

At last - A perfectly executed race.

The day of the SkinnyMan Triathlon actually started the night beforehand with Liz and I spending some quality R+R time around the village of Skaneateles. Friday night, after a quick run together, we found ambiance and carbs at, of all places, Joe's Pasta Garage before roaming the very cold and windy streets at dusk. Surrounded by a cloud of relaxation, and coming off a week of tapering, I couldn't have asked for a better pre-race.

Saturday morning the alarm went off at 6:00am, followed by the OCD "backup" alarms at 6:05, 6:10 and 6:15. Actually, another beauty of this race weekend was staying, quite literally, across the street from the start of the race. All I had to do was drink my coffee, down my breakfast, and roll out to set-up transition and warm-up. And so after a cup of in-room-brewed Paul de Lima (another huge thanks to Liz, who wins the souginer-of-the-year award for hunting down the hotel's last packet for me the night before), I was out the door and on my way.

Mentally, I was 100%. As I floated through the chaos of race-morning in the transition area, there was a lot of talk about "how hilly the course is," and "how cold the water is," and so on and so forth, but little of it really registered or concerned me (although, the course really did turn out to be hilly, and the water was indeed very cold at 62F!). Closing my eyes and ears off to the world around me, I moved out to the course to do my run warm-up before returning to transition to pull on my wetsuit, make final preparations in my area, and head towards the water entrance.

On my way to the water, I was happy to see Liz and my mom standing by the transition field, both with smiles and both with plenty of "good luck" energy for me. A kiss to both, and I made my way through the crowd towards the water. And literally inches from putting my foot in the freezing lake, and amidst about 50 other athletes trying to push their way into the lake as well, I felt a strong tap on my shoulder. Turning to look, it was my best friend, Tim, who'd come out to watch and support. With perfect timing, we exchanged a strong shake of the hand, a nod for luck, and the fuse was lit. It was go-time.

They'd started this race as a mass-start, so with around about 300 athletes making for the first buoy, there was some jostling in there, to say the least. At the sound of the gun, there were arms and elbows to the head, hands on my thighs, my ankles and my feet. People swimming over, under and perpendicular to me as they tried to navigate amongst the whirlpool. It was crazy - but within the first 150 meters, I settled into a perfect rhythm just as I'd wanted and, in no time, I was turning perfect stroke after perfect stroke, and picking my way past people.

Out of the water and into T1 was a blur. Having to concentrate on finding legs to run on, pulling off the wetsuit, navigating the transition area and then getting all your bike gear on in under 30 seconds is no easy task. Add to that the shear noise from the spectators and announcers, and it's just a crazy, adrenaline-filled environment.

On the bike I started passing people left and right on the early climbs. I specifically focused on turning over a one-lighter-than-normal gear on all the climbs in order to save the legs for the second-half of the bike. This little leg-saving game is something I've been experimenting with in recent brick workouts. Though the spinning felt a little too easy at times, I was still passing people and making significant time on my competition. Nearing the half-way point, I dropped the gearing and really started to hammer it out. This turned out to be a perfect strategy, particularly for this course, as the bigger, longer hills came towards the end of the course. So just as my competition were feeling the strain of going too hard, too early, I was continuing to ramp things up and damage the field.

Into T2, I was fresh and ready for the 5k. I quickly donned my flats and raced out of transition and onto the run course. At first, there was that typical feeling in the legs - striking a bit hard and awkward - but within the first 1/4 mile they evened out and found the rhythm, at which point, again, I found myself passing people with ease and in complete control of my pacing. After the 2.5k point of the run, the course remained flat to downhill. So I simply let the legs do the work, turning over an ultra-fast cadence, and sailing into the finish somewhere around 1:20.

Once my vision widened and returned to normal, I migrated to my fan base who were there for support, and simply basked in the triumph of having executed an extremely solid race. In the end, I didn't get my first place, rather, I took second in my age-group, and 36th overall of nearly 300 competitors. However, in retrospect, there's not a single thing I would have changed about how I approached this event or how I raced the race. Mentally and physically, I was spot-on, I was just a little slower than the winner. But, hey, that's fuel for the off-season.

Thanks for reading.