Location: Charleston, SC
Date: January 14, 2011
Placing: 10th Overall, 1st Master
Format: Half Marathon
My Race Photos
Official Race Photos
Results: Click Here

Preface

Total bummer. For you. You see, I didn't quit racing this year. And that means more race reports. Really, you're only chance at relief is if I finally get tired of all this exercise nonsense. But don't hold your breath - I was tired of it in 1988, 1994, 1998, 2004 and 2010. So your odds are not good because you can see what came of that. Just be happy I was too busy hanging out under the "Hot Now" sign at Krispy Kreme and catching up on House episodes to write my last two race reports of 2011. But I can catch you up right now: Spinx Runfest Half Marathon - 8th overall and San Antonio Rock n' Roll Half Marathon - 35th overall, 2nd Master. There, now I'm up on House episodes and you are up on how my 2011 ended. One last thing. San Antonio had 19,500 runners and I started just 2 feet behind Shalane Flanagan who just won the Olympic Trials this past weekend in record time. I was so close I could touch her. I mean, I'm not saying I tried...but I'm also not saying I didn't think about it. Let's get to the race at hand...

One of my nicer acrylic awards...it goes nicely with my miniature guitar awards from the Rock n' Roll Half Iron. Getting old isn't so bad if you can keep from getting slower.

Pre-race Musings

Man, if us guys had a quarter for every time we heard this: "Could you please shave your legs at the gym, you're gonna clog our shower drain". Am I right, guys? Guys? Anyway, I can't remember the last time I went almost 4 months without shaving my legs. But the point here is that I've been shaving my legs since I was 15. I didn't start racing until I was 25. Just kidding. The first "shave of the season" is almost like the scene in Rocky when the theme plays and they show Rocky training for his big fight. Except that he is carrying logs through the snow and eating raw eggs and I am wielding a razor in the shower and then ordering a smoothie at the smoothie bar. It's like we're one and the same person. Now most runners don't shave their legs but as a multi-sport athlete I jsut can't stand the unsightly hair..let's do this 2012 thing!

Although Janis and I do a pretty good job of mingling with the commoners, it is no secret that when we travel to races we like to drop our facade and embrace our blue blood lines. After all, we belong to a very elite class of people known as "priority club platinum members". It's a highly selective group of people who just happen to spend tons of money at Holiday Inn hotels. This past weekend was a perfect example of our societal pull. When we arrived at the historic Mills House Hotel and the clerk saw my TeamKattouf/Fleet Feet apparel she instantly waived the valet parking fee and put Janis and I in the $440-a-night presidential suite. That is not a joke. We looked up the room rate. It was more like a house than a hotel room...it was like we were in an alternate universe where Friday the 13th brought incredibly GOOD luck instead of bad. We actually hated being there for just one night with all that room and nobody to share it. By the way...when we saw chocolates on the bed, we both instinctively ran to the other bedroom where another set of chocolates awaited our invisible friends (who loved them very much).

You might have to get out your binoculars to see me way back in the other corner of the 'living area'. I'm not sure why we were upgraded to the 'arena room', but in my mind it's because of Janis' good looks and my athletic prowess.

We met fellow TeamKattoufer Rex Morgan and his wife Roxann for dinner at a cute little Italian restaurant (Bocci's) downtown where we poured beer down our gullets and told tales of how when we were younger we ran a marathon to school every day...each way...barefoot...in the snow. Our waiter took one look at our chiseled physiques and asked if we were running the next day. He told us that he would be running the half - his first. We told him that it was really going to be a lot easier than he thought - especially if he skipped breakfast and just drank a ton of coffee. As penance, we left a large tip. Who says runners are "always so serious". I made plans to avoid the Port-o-potties at the start line.

Janis and I are the equivalent of a team of 20 logisticians. Everything is planned down to the minute. Escape routes are determined and we make back-up plans for our back-up plans. It is exactly like an episode of Mission:Impossible right down to the expected pre-race call from coach Rick..."G-Man, wasssssuuuup? Your mission, should you decide to accept it...". I always accept the mission - it's part of my genetic code. When I first started with Rick, this call was more like haggling at a flea market; "Keep your heartrate at 145 through mile 3...", "How about 150?", "146", "148?", "...OK, 148" SOLD! to the bitter old man in lycra. Now that I trust Rick's plan we talk about politics, religion and the weather.

Bring it

We arrived at our pre-determined parking area 3 minutes ahead of schedule. We were parked less than 200 feet from the start all by ourselves. I could literally throw a rock to the start line and yet we didn't see a soul. A quarter mile up the road, we could barely see cars backed up trying to get into the parking garage listed on the race literature. We just looked at each other and thought..."amateurs". I got ready for my warmup and had 4 extra minutes to do a crossword puzzle. I left the car at precisely 7:30 am and returned at 7:45 am. Based on the 33-degree temps and my warmup, I made my race clothing selection. I went with something form-fitting and off-the-shoulder that complemented my eyes. I opted for "Jet Blackberry" as my GU flavor of choice because it most described my mood and the purple wrapper screamed "don't mess with me". We walked to the start line where we stood hugging each other to stay warm - and so nobody would hear us talking about them as we played our little game "fast...or not" where we look at someone lined up at the front and wonder if they should really be lined up in the front or not. After the race, I have to report back to Janis our results. I wonder on which side of the game I fall when people look at me on the start line with my gray-speckled beard and triathlon shorts? I hope I fall on the "what's HE doing up here side". It's more fun to be the underdog.

Hmmmm...fast or not? I find that ususally the people who are the quietest and least boisterous are the ones who have a hidden confidence that translates to 'fast'.

The absolute crowning moment of the race happened next. The Charleston Mayor pro tem took the microphone and made some announcements. He turned over the mic to the singer of the National Anthem (who was also running the race and apparently was a local celebrity). He then took the mic back and announced, "I'll say 'runners ready, go'" at which point he then said "Runners ready!". The whole lot of us quickly glanced left to right because we were all thinking the same thing..."you're standing in the middle of the road". But nobody uttered a word in that instance and our fears became reality. "GO!" The mayor - 10 feet in front of 2,000 runners jumping off the start line - instantly realized what a mistake he had made. I would say he looked like a deer in headlights but I've never seen a deer's eyes get THAT big. He literally lunged for the side of the road. Mistake number 2. I somehow narrowly missed the pile up that he cause at the edge of the road. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I chose laugh because in all honesty it was hilarious. It was the topic of conversation as we all trotted up to speed. "Can you beleive he did that?" "Yeah, I thought surely he's not going to stand in the middle of the road and say 'go'". Surely...he did.

"Hey, you don't think one of those guys over there is going to stand in the middle of the road and yell 'GO', do you?"...

A half-mile in I reached my prescribed heartrate and I started to let people pull away. I would venture to guess 30-35 people in front of me at mile 1 where I recorded a 6:12 mile. Ahead I could see the leader in bright red shorts making a turn already about 30 seconds ahead of me. I let the HR go up just a couple of beats in mile 2 and very comfortably hit 6:26. I was running in a strung out group of 5 or 6 people at this point and was having fun watching the reactions of guys as the lead woman just ahead of me would pass them. The absolute first rule of performing your best in endurance racing is to set your ego free. It's also one of the hardest rules for a very competitive person. At almost the exact moment we hit mile 3, a guy ran past our little group. It probably looked like I took off after him but all I was doing was taking my HR up another 8-10 beats. That was a pretty big jump and my mile 3 split dropped to 5:53. I would spend the next 7 miles "chasing" that guy...into a harsh Northern headwind. At first he pulled away and opened up about a 200-meter gap. I stayed true to my plan as the two of us methodically picked off runner after runner.

Now every once in a while I prove to myself that I'm not really a smart man. And it had been a while so I was due. During my past 2 months of training things had been going great. But just one week ago I had a terrible long training run. Not terrible as in I ate wrong or I was tired. Terrible as in asthma-related. With some rain and Spring-like temps in Greenville, the plant life played a number on me. After the run, Janis and I wondered if taking a 'hit' of my inhaler in the middle of my run would help. Don't get ahead of me. Now, you have to know that for the last 3 years since I was diagnosed with allergy-induced asthma, very few of the drugs they prescribed have had ANY effect on my situation aside from a shot I get called Xolair. I quit using everything else almost as soon as I started - including my inhaler. I've taken it a few times before races in the past but again, I've seen no effect. So, call me a moron...or call me an experimental genius but today, I was going to try our little test.

I'm sure it's tough to spot me in this picture since I am dressed as a ninja, but if you look just in front of the yellow cones you can see me.

I certainly wasn't feeling bad, but my brain said "wait, how do you know that your lungs haven't been degrading faster becuase of your asthma during the run?" Which was a pretty good sentence for my brain at this point in a race. So just moments before I hit mile 10, when I was supposed to take my HR up for the last time, I took 2 large puffs of my inhaler. Hmmm. No "tingly" feeling like my lungs opening up. As a matter of fact, it felt like a normal breath. No change. I just held the inhaler for the rest of the race and kicked it up just the tiniest bit. I was closing in on the guy who passed me at mile 3 and at this point we had passed 15-20 runners along the way. I focused hard on his back on a long straightaway when it hit me. My first wheeze. It is the most ironic thing in the course of human physiology. I have been telling people for 3 years that I don't believe I actually have asthma becuase "...I've never even wheezed once in my life". Just under a minute had passed since I took a hit off my inhaler and now - after taking asthma medicine - I was wheezing. At first it came across as just something wierd like I swallowed a bug - or an elephant, but it quickly turned to a bit of fear. I thought "what have I done?" I hoped it didn't get worse or that I didn't go into shock or anything. As long as it remained a 'wheeze' and didn't turn into a 'gasp', I kept pushing. But my push was now limited to just 1 or 2 extra heartbeats instead of 5 or 6.

Oh yes, the infamous head tilt. Don't tell my competitors but the head tilt is the sure-fire sign that I am on the rivet. If you ever see my head perpendicular to the road I am probably running a 4:00 mile.

I caught my quarry at mile 11. He said he was going to try to stay with me. The problem was that he was not on the Kattouf plan. He was apparently on the "G-Man before Rick" plan. He was getting slower and I was going faster. At mile 12 who should I see but red-shorts guy who led the race through the first mile. I ran a 5:49 last mile to catch him just 50 yards before the finish line - and there was no way I could sneak up on him since I was breathing like a chain saw. I crossed under the finish banner at 1:20:03. Since it was the same course as last year, my Garmin once again showed the course as a pretty good bit long. And with the huge amount of headwind, this time can easily be extrapolated to about a 1:09:00 on a perfect day...in a vaccuum. Running down a mountain. I was 10th overall and 1st Master. For fun, I like to look at my finish like this: no matter what age group I raced today, I would have made top 3.

'red-shorts guy': 30 seconds ahead of me at mile 1...5 seconds behind me at mile 13.1. Prepare for pain to stop in 3...2...1...ahhhhh.

Something that really puzzled me were the awards. Wait, I said that wrong. They gave me a puzzle as an award. Yeah, I thought that was pretty cool. I got a framed print of historic Charleston from a local artist AND a 550-piece puzzle of his print. Great award since Janis and I love doing puzzles. Not a bad start to 2012 - my 108th season of racing...or somewhere thereabouts.

Notes:
* In one of the eeriest coincidences in racing history, the "guy in the red shorts" that I beat by 5 seconds was none other than Nicholas Sykes (age 20) - younger brother of Stephen Sykes. If you've read some of my prior race reports over the years, you will know that Stephen Sykes and I at one point had a series of a dozen races or so where our total finishing time differential was something like 8 seconds. Let's hope there's not another younger brother. I really don't want to be racing this family when I'm 90.
* At least 8 employees from where I work (ScanSource) ran this event including one who won her age group in the marathon and my CEO who set a PR here. 10 years ago, you were lucky to find 8 people who even ran at my company.
* All this talk about asthma and wouldn't you know it, their finish area was a huge tent that they set up on a dirt field. The dust was so thick it was like a fog. There was no way I was going to risk spending any time in there so Instead I had to wait for awards outside in the 30-degree weather.
* You know how I like to point out sometimes that these people are half my age. Well, I'm not sure whether or not I'm happy to report that the winner today was...1/3 my age!!. The cool thing? He is a brand new TeamKattoufer. Congrats Tony Morales (age 16!)
* TeamKattoufer Rex Morgan successfully completed his first full marathon less than 10 minutes off of his Boston Marathon qualifying time. Awesome run for a 1st marathon.

Next Up: Greenville News Downtown 5k. I hope we get to chase the cow for Chick-Fil-A coupons again this year!

I'm no longer puzzled...

Location: Anderson, SC
Date: October 9, 2011
Placing: 3rd Overall Amateur
Format: Half-Iron Triathlon
My Race Photos
Official Race Photos
Results: Click Here

Preface

My tri season is over. And let me just say that I didn't slip out through the back door. No. I left the party in dramatic fashion right through the front door. The Rev3 South Carolina race was half-iron race #5 for me this year and much like my last event in Syracuse, I had a well-executed race plan wrapped up and tangled in a series of unanticipated events that you might expect to happen to the hero in a feel-good blockbuster movie. Justice prevails, we all live happily ever afterwards and you are left with a sense that everything is right with the world. *(lights dim; curtain closes)*

Chapter 1: Bob #1

The day before the race, we met up with our friends Bob and Sue from Atlanta. Bob and I used to train for bike racing together back in Texas; just after the wheel was invented. We lost touch with each other for many years and then - apparently through the ineptness of the witness protection program - Bob found me again. We picked up our packets, racked our bikes and drove the bike course; making meticulous mental notes on each of the 2,000 turns and hills. Which turns required braking, which hills to use our little chainrings, etc. Yep, I had every inch of the course memorized and analyzed...until Sunday morning, when every road looked exactly the same and I forgot it all. I swore I rode the same 2-mile loop for 2 hours. Up. Down. Turn. Up. Down. Turn.

Bob starts yet another fad look. All the kids will be doing it next year.

In an obvious attempt to sabotage my day - so that he would come out on top - Bob made sure that I didn't eat one single thing on Saturday that any sane person would have on their pre-race menu. I will swear in a court of law that he MADE me get the 'special burrito' platter for lunch. And we won't even touch my 'bacon crab cakes' for dinner. Admittedly, I didn't resist much because I was in the perfect position for my last race - still quite fit, but having very little pressure since I could hang my hat on my recent performances in Syracuse and Portland. I was as stress free before this event as I have ever been. Most importantly - on Saturday - my countdown of "number of swims left for 2011" was down to 1.

Our day ended with the 4 of us using every electronic device we had to track the Ironman Hawaii race from our hotel room. I think we all fell asleep with our phones and tablets in our hands. Thank goodness for some Facebook posts because the Ironman athlete tracking web page was useless. They probably can't afford a new server, what with the nominal $700 entry fee for a race. So anyway, I'm hoping my TeamKattouf teammmate Chris Olson has a good race. Don't spoil it for me if you know - I'm still waiting for the Ironman website. Hopefully, their 'real time' tracking will let me know how he's doing soon. Seeing as how he finished 3 days ago.

Chillin' with Bob and Sue before the start. Of course it's still dark...most of the athletes are still sleeping.

Bob continued his antics to slow me down by waking up so early on race morning that I think we traveled back in time to a moment before we even went to sleep. That's right, I think I actually got 'negative sleep'. Our set up at the venue went smoothly (how could it not - there was nobody else there yet). It was cool out but it was nowhere near the 42-degrees I dealt with in New York. Temperature would be no concern today. What WOULD be an obvious concern was the fact that at 5 o'clock in the morning, it was already prime kite-flying weather. Calling it a breeze would be an injustice. It was a full-fledged wind. I found myself looking skyward several times to make sure Dorothy's farmhouse wasn't headed for me. As daybreak broke it became apparent that the wind had blown the sun completely out of the sky. It was a grey, cloud-filled day. There would be no 'looking directly into the sun' on this swim. And that's a good thing.

This must be Photoshopped. You can tell by the subtle nuances in the photo like...the fact that I'm about to swim and I'm smiling.

Chapter 2: Synchronized Swimming

The 5 start waves went like this: pro men, pro women, men under 40, men 40 and over, women. I was glad to be behind the younger guys for once. I hate not knowing if someone who started behind me is beating me. This way, it's all about looking ahead. I don't have to wait for other people to finish to know if I wil lmove down in placings. The start seemed to come quickly today and before you knew it I was standing on the water's edge with 15 seconds to go. The course was simple - we started on one side of a peninsula, swam a rectangle and came out on the other side of the peninsula. There was a little more 'brawling' in the first few minutes than normal but nothing I couldn't deal with...until about 10 minutes in. A swimmer runs into me at such a sharp angle from my right that I instantly think I've missed a turn. Nope. I laugh as I let him pass by - headed to nowhere. Yeah, it was funny. For about 30 seconds; at which point the same swimmer broadsided me from the left. Seriously? No lie, his zigzagging continued for several minutes and I could not get away. Finally, we hit the long section of the rectangle and I lost him. I thought he was probably headed to either Florida or New Jersey at that point.

Time for the swawl. That's my term for the start of a tri. It's derived from the terms "swim" and "brawl". I'm the one with the yellow cap.

I found myself drifting a bit more than my usual straight-as-an-arrow trajectory and later on attributed that to the hefty wind. Shortly after starting the long segment, I noticed a swimmer to my left (because I breathe left). He was keeping almost perfect tempo with me and he was breathing right. We probably spent 15 to 20 minutes swimming 15 feet apart and glimpsing each other in 1 second intervals. Had this been a syncronized swimming competition, we would have been tough to beat. Our 'arrangement' was only interupted a couple of times (including once by 'zigzag man' who most likely swam twice the actual distance).

I made a decision at turn number 3 that it was silly to stay next to this swimmer who was obviously going the same speed and swimming straight - so I fell in behind him into his draft. I've rarely ever drafted in the water. It DOES work. My problem is that whenever I've tried it before I could never find anyone who could swim as straight as me. Those people are all 10 minutes ahead of me. I might have to start the "slow but straight" swimmer's club. Maybe I'd have to rename it to be more politically correct. Today was the exception and I followed this swimmer all the way to the swim exit where we ran into some congestion. The really funny part? After the race, my friend Bob asked me where I went in the swim. He said he thought he was swimming next to me during the entire long segment. Holy cow. That was my friend Bob the whole time. I got the last laugh when I told him that I drafted him to the exit. Sweet.

A quick glance at my watch...35:59. No way. 1 second off my estimate. What I completely forgot was that I had started my watch 1 minute before the gun went off. I actually swam a 34:49 (officially). That 1 minute will become very important 4 hours later. Another fairly fast swim for me using the same technique I used in Syracuse. I tried my best to have a quick transition but we had to shove everything we were leaving behind into a plastic bag that Rev3 provided; wetsuit, goggles, disdain for swimming, etc. This race had two different transition locations so we would not be coming back to this small park once we left. When I find the time, I'm inventing wetsuit bottoms that rip off like the sweatpants the NBA uses. I will be rich.

Seriously, wetsuit. Come off of my foot. I wonder if there any doctors who do foot-reduction surgery.

Chapter 3: Bob #2

I ran to the mount line and there was Bob, messing with his gears. Someone had apaprently knocked his shift levers in transition and he was having a time of it. I hopped on my steed and gave him a quick "c'mon Bob" and I was gone. I hit my Garmin to start my heartrate monitor. I hit my Garmin to start my heartrate monitor. Crap. My heartrate monitor - which has never failed me - did not want to read today. Looks like I would have to go by feel today; haven't done that in a couple of years. I'm not going to dwell on the bike - it was constantly up and down with a ton of turns. I'll never forget the first gust of wind on my first descent. With my deep dish front rim it felt like I was on American Gladiators and guys on both sides of me were whacking me with those giant Q-Tips. I had to quickly stiffen up my upper body and gain control. This would happen for the entire ride and I would find myself after the race with sore shoulder and neck muscles from 'manhandling' my bike all day.

Whoa, who's that guy at the mount line messing with his bike? I need to avoid him. Oh. Hey, Bob.

I was doing a good job of taking advantage of my cycling skills - diving into turns, using my momentum on the hills, and looking sharp in lycra - when I started to catch a rider near mile 20. The course was never straight so I would see the rider for a few seconds before they would disappear. I could see them using the same techniques that I was using. It had to be someone who raced bikes. It was 6 miles later when I finally got close enough to see the telltale sign...shoe covers. Shoe covers meant that it had to be a relay rider (no triathlete would stop to put shoe covers on in transition...hmmm, what am I saying; triathletes will do whatever you tell them to). And there was only one person I knew who did triathlon relays that fast on the bike: Bob Chambers. Talk about history repeating itself. The very first triathlon I ever did 6 years ago was the South Carolina Half-Iron. At mile 50, I passed a rider - something I do all the time. But this rider passed me back a minute later and that took me by surprise. It was Bob Chambers riding as a relay team rider. He told me after that race that he thought I had to be a relay rider since I was going so fast. But I wasn't.

Years later - Here we are again. If Bob was anything like me (and I knew he would be) he probably felt comfortable going fast and passing so many people. But sometimes all it takes is a wake-up call to make you realize that you are riding in a complacent state. I was Bob's wake-up call. He passed me back a minute later. Turns out, we played a cat and mouse game for most of the remainder of the race. I simply stuck to my plan - I couldn't be jostled into a 'pissing contest' (for lack of a better term). We never actually rode close together; when the road would spend time going up, I would pass Bob and get a good gap on him. When the road would shoot down for a good bit, he would do the same to me. We actually only passed each other maybe 6 times total and there were a couple of times where Bob rode completely out of sight again before I would reel him back in. For the first time in a race, I could see how my circa 1890 frame was probably slowing me down when the wind was strong and the speed was fast. I didn't have near the aerodynamics as Bob's state of the art set up. As a matter of fact, when I first started to catch him I swore he was riding a pencil. The most important thing that happened by accident was that Bob became my heartrate monitor. I knew he would have one of the fastest bike splits of the day for amateurs and if I was moving close to the same speed then I could pretty much bet on a solid time without overextending myself.

With about 6 miles to go, Bob flew by me for the last time on a fast downhill. It was time for him to empty the tank. I didn't have that luxury with the thought of 13.1 miles of running looming ahead. We were joined on the last 5 miles of the course by riders who were doing the olympic-distance race. It gave me a few more targets to finish out the ride. I remembered to suck down the last of my water and with a half-mile left I used the last downhill to pull my feet out of my shoes and remove my Garmin from my handlebars. Riding over the series of speed bumps like this as I approached T2 took a bit of skill. With my Garmin dangling from my mouth, I slammed on my brakes just shy of the dismount line and even popped a bit of a front-end wheelie as I waved to the fans. It was easy to spot Janis in my TeamKattouf jacket screaming her head off for me.

Thanks, Janis for getting this shot 20 seconds AFTER I give myself a strawberry Ensure bath. Mmmm, I smell berry-fresh. But my fingers are now welded together.

Chapter 4: Let's Do This...Together

The Rev3 transition areas look so different because they use wheel holders on the ground (they look like ladders that are laying down in rows) instead of the high-standing racks. So when I run into transition, it looks wide open with stuff laying on the ground everywhere and nothing standing up. As soon as I entered, Bob Chambers was standing right there - having just handed off to his relay runner. At some races I will give a quick count of the bikes in transition; a rough estimate of how many people are in front of me but today I was busy reciting the location of my rack spot, "the light, two racks, go right...the light, two racks, go right". Got it. I threw my shoes on and grabbed my Rudy glasses, Garmin, race belt and Ensure all in one hand and started running. The Rudy's first...then the race belt...then I opened the Ensure and threw it at my mouth. I beleive 60% went on my shoulder and hand; 30% went onto my Rudy's; 5% went up my nose; and 5% went in my mouth. Lastly, I attached my Garmin to my wrist and hit the start button. Let's do this. Still no heartrate registering. The thought occured to me that maybe I was dead. I thought that can't be - heaven would be much better than this. Oh, wait a minute. Maybe this is....

I felt slow. But I always feel slow. Janis had run over to see me at the half-mile point. After a ride like that I just said in a very matter-of-fact way..."that ride was brutal - this run is going to be a bit slower than normal". I waited for my Garmin to beep the first mile. What would it be? 7:30? 7:45?. BEEP...6:38. There was no way I was believing that until mile 2. Just after the first mile, a 19-year-old from Georgia State pulled up next to me and I latched on to him. I ran off his shoulder until the olympic course seperated from the half course around mile 3...and we went our seperate ways. Those first three miles were crazy. Take a piece of string, wad it up, throw it in the air and let it fall to the ground. You just created a map for the first 3 miles. It was marked very well but you overlapped and turned around enough times that at one point I beleived I could see all 1000 competitors at the same time. I believe it was a Jedi mind trick designed to deter the weakest minds. "This is not the turn you're looking for"...

"That ride was hard, baby - this run will be a little slower than normal. Hey, how do my new shoes look?"

Georgia boy and I had passed one of the female pros shortly before we seperated and a minute or two later, I could hear her chasing me. I could hear her for what seemed like forever and as we approached mile 6 I backed down just enough to let her pull up to me. My Garmin beeped and she asked me what mile that was; I told her we just passed mile 6. We had both passed another female pro earlier and were right on top of yet another one. We picked her off a few seconds later. We ran side by side - silently - for a while. We started some small talk. Her name was Courtenay and she was now in 7th (there was a payout for the top 10) and she wanted to stay there. I told her that if it bothered her for me to run with her that I could pick it up or slow it down. She was really cool about it and told me that it was actually helping her to hold pace. It was good for me too - another person taking the place of my heartrate monitor and keeping me in check. I decided right there that I would stay with her until the urge to 'go' could not wait any longer. We were hitting 6:45's and she was good with that. I was good with that also. I could feel myself holding back ever so slightly but that was really the best thing for me. If I had anything left, I would fire the afterburners at the end.

As we approached the far turnaround at mile 8, we passed my ex-bike-racing-friend turned triathlete Heath Dotson already going the other way. Wow, he must have beaten out of the water, stayed ahead of me on the bike and was now a minute or two ahead of me with 5 miles left to run. Hmmm. He was not in my age group, but still...

I had the pleasure of running alongside of pro woman Courtenay Brown for most of the run. I'm usually in "no-man's land" in many of my events (it's the downside of being old and fast that I'm willing to live with ;-) so having someone to pace with was phenomenal. By the way, I guess technically, I was still in no "man's" land...Courtenay took 7th. Sweet.

At mile 9 I offered my last Gu to Courtenay. At first she declined but a few seconds later she changed her mind. It was slightly up to mile 10 but that was a high point in the run and mile 11 was almost entirely downhill. We were working a bit harder now as she picked up the pace to the #11 mile marker. We dropped down some more and at about mile 11.25 we bottomed out and I decided it was time to find my last gear. I told her I was going to try and catch Heath. She thanked me and wished me good luck. Holy cow. With a target and less than two miles to go I found more than 1 gear...I found overdrive. I closed what was probably a 45-second gap on Heath before we hit mile 12. Son of gun. He is only 39! I thought he was 40. He actually started in a wave 5 minutes ahead of me. We exchanged some friendly banter but I was in no mood to chill - my legs was a movin'!

Chapter 5: Karma

I'm not sure if it was because I missed out on my top 5 finish at Syracuse, or if it was because I helped Courtenay a bit to her eventual 7th place finish but Karma was about to give me a little chuckle.

As many of you may know from reading my race reports, Janis and I almost make a game out of me estimating my times. It all started when she wanted to know about how long she should expect to be waiting to see me between disciplines. I fancy myself pretty good at it. When I was a bike racer my best event on the track (velodrome) was the "unknown distance". Part speed. Part ESP. Look it up. Saturday afternoon I put all the external factors into my head: wind, hills, number of burritos eaten the day before and I ran my incredibly complex algorythms. I spit out these times: 0:36:00 swim, 2:24:00 bike, 1:25:00 run and 0:03:48 transitions: a 4:28:48 total time. I told her that I was so confident that I turned around and entered the time on Facebook. You see, Yakima runs a promotion at every Rev3; you post your finish time on their page and the 2 athletes that get closest win a new Yakima rack. Fast forward to mile 12-point-something of the run...

I realized about 30 seconds ago that I was going to be real close to my time estimate. I mean REAL CLOSE...

I had just passed my friend Heath and was tearing it pretty good towards the finish line. For the first time since I exited the swim, I glanced at my watch (which holds my 'master' time). 4:25:30. It took only a second for my brain to go from "cool - under 4:30", to "holy crap! if a train leaves the finish line traveling towards me at a 6:00 pace; and I'm a half-mile away...carry the 2...times sixty...I could finish within a minute of my estimate." I near the finish and they surprise me with a hidden u-turn that throws you up a final climb. I glance at Janis at the turn and just point at my watch...4:28:30. I was kicking it prety hard but I wasn't going to make it. Damn, I'm gonna be long.

Then, a voice jumped into my head and slapped some sense into me. "You dummy - you started your watch on the beach a MINUTE BEFORE THE START. GAME ON!! I ran the last 300 meters like Usain Bolt (on his easy day). I was sprinting so hard when I came around the turn into the finish chute that people kept looking behind me to see who was chasing me. They had no idea. 4:28:40...42...44...46...BAM! 4:28:48 ON THE NOSE! I just about collapsed for a second before standing up and pointing to the Yakima tent right next to the finish line and yelling "YES! IT'S MINE!!!!" Un. Real. You'd a thought I won the lottery. Apparently there is no need to put competitors in front of me. Just offer me the chance to win something and I'll run like nobody's business. What a finish. Reminded me of chasing down my friend Dan Moss 4 years ago at Rock n' Roll Man Half. Envigorating.

There is no way this picture is real. I know for a fact that I was flying down that finishing chute. I look like I'm out for a jog.

Janis met me at the end of the finish chute and looked up my official time on my phone: 4:28:47. Fourth overall. I actually ran 1 second too fast. It was like icing on the cake. As if to say "I'm not only gonna win that rack, but I'm gonna BEAT my time estimate too". It took us a while to realize that one of the people ahead of me was Bob Chamber's relay runner. I had finished 3rd overall amateur. A phenomenal way to end the tri season. And I got to share it with tons of friends and teammates since the race was so close to home. What started as a pretty crummy season - ended with a bang the last 3 months. 2011, I'll miss you...

Epilogue: Timing is Everything

As a numbers guy, I just can't resist the "call of the data". Here is an interesting comparison table of my estimate and actual times:

Notes:
* Although I persevered in Syracuse and still had a great race, I was disappointed to have missed a top 3-5 placing. I guess it just wasn't my time YET.
* Although the bike course never reached a high altitude, there was still 400 more feet of climbing than in Syracuse - which is considered a moderately difficult course. The difference was that this course never stopped going up and down.
* I had given time estimates to win the Yakima rack at both of my other Rev3 races this year. In Knoxville, I was just getting over my asthma problems and was slower than anticipated. In Portland, they changed the hilly course to a flat one and I was faster than my estimate.
* Janis and I housed two pro racers for the weekend: Brandon Marsh and Scott DeFilippis of Team TBB. Although he had just gotten over being sick, Brandon had a decent day finishing in 14th in the pro field. Unfortunately, Scott had a bike mechanical and had to pull out. Very cool guys. Watch for them at Kona next year.
* This was my last tri of the season. Number of swims I have left for 2011? 0.
* It was awesome to see so many of my friends and teammates placing and taking home some swag. My friend Heath finished 7th overall and won his age group. My teammate Rex Morgan took 2nd in the 50-54 and my friend Bob took 5th. Teammate John Henis took 3rd in the 45-49. Too many people to mention!
* I scored a TYR backpack, Avia shoes, a case of GU, winter hat, Fuel Belt, Inside Triathlon subscription and hopefully - a Yakima rack (it's not official yet. You know how Karma works, maybe two other people hit their times on the nose)
* At one of the feed zones on the run, the girls all dressed up as princesses. It was pretty awesome. Anything to take your mind off of the effort.
* Time to back down for a month with a couple of half-marathons and then a big break in November.

Next Up: Spinx Half Marathon and San Antonio Half Marathon

Location: Syracuse, NY
Date: September 18, 2011
Placing: 12th Overall Amateur, 1st 45-49 Age Group
Format: Half-Iron Triathlon
My Race Photos
Official Race Photos
Results: Click Here

I had a revelation. Actually, I had several 'events' that when added up...led to a revelation. It's not the kind of revelation where you realize something that you never knew before. No, it was a revelation that I had forgotten something over the course of time. A revelation that had long gone by the wayside. Slowly. Over 30 years. As a competitive athlete I've learned to train and hone my body in an effort to outperform others. What I've fogotten over the years is that the emotional and mental aspects are what turn an 'event' into a 'race'. Racing isn't hard on the body. Racing is hard on the psyche. We may see it as a physical test but in all honesty, I can almost predict my swim, bike and run times under certain conditions. And there's the rub. There is no such as thing as 'certain conditions' and how we react to 'uncertain conditions' is the real test. Yes; racing is a test of fortitude. A test of the human spirit.

A test of the human spirit?

After hundreds of races spread across 3+ decades, things get easier. But don't be fooled - not everything that's 'easier' is good. Complacency is easier. Accepting defeat is easier. Quitting is easier. Stripping in public is easier. Before the race, I was already looking for interesting things to jazz up my race report under the simple assumption that I would be going through the same motions I've gone through so many times before. So many things to talk about; an interesting venue, interesting weather, the absolute nightmare that was my bike shipping, and the fact that I was without my massive network of a support system otherwise known as Janis. I'll save most of these for my 'Notes' section because in the end this story really is all about a 'race'.

My season made a sharp turn for the better at the beginning of the Summer when my doctor upped my dosage of my allgery-blocking medication and anabolic steroids. Which probably also accounts for the reason my upper body has gotten so ripped. Yep, no more checking size 'small' in the race t-shirt column. I started to once again "own my body". Coach Rick pushed me as hard in August with a focus on speed in the pool and transition runs after interval rides. I felt as fit as I have in a while with no losses of power or heartrates that would not climb. I tasted this feeling in Portland in July and like Oliver Twist...I wanted some more. After my scheduled attempt to do Branson 70.3 with a friend fell through - there was no way I was going to waste this fitness. I signed up for Syracuse.

Finn made me promise to put a photo of him in my report. He stowed away AGAIN. I must admit, he DID have some great tips on cold-water swimming. But mostly he watched cable TV.

As I mentioned in my first paragraph, my fitness is never a source of stress. I control that. I've done the work and my training tells me what to expect. This weekend, it was telling me to expect something good - maybe even great. Yes, I beleive it used those exact words, "maybe even great". I also don't stess much about the things that everyone must deal with. Who cares if the course is hard or if it's raining or if your race number is an ugly color orange that doesn't mathc your Team Kattouf outfit? The guy or gal next to you isn't going to get things any different. But then there's a caveat. People are different and things affect us all differently...which brings me to the temperatures. I admit my advantage in the heat since I am part camel. No, I'm part gila monster - yeah that sounds way cooler than a camel. "Monster". So, any-who, you won't find gila monsters in the arctic because they can't handle the cold...and because most of them can't afford an airline ticket with the price of flights these days.

It looks real nice but if pictures could transmit temperatures - you'd be wearing a coat right now.

Just days before the event, a cold front had come through and dropped the temps considerably. Jeeez, it felt like New York!...which makes sense if you think about it. So there I am - the gila monster - on race morning. The air temp is 43-degrees and they announce the water temp at 62-degrees. Isn't that just a couple of degrees away from freezing? A little stronger breeze and we'd be looking at a skate-bike-run. 15 minutes before the start I sat alone in my car with the heat on. Not a sole to be seen since everyone else was several hundred yards away at the beach start. I put my wetsuit on and seriously debated whether or not I could get into water that cold. I had come close to hypothermia last year swimming in Lake Hartwell in the very early Spring. You may hurt yourself badly if you fall off your bike or trip while running. But losing use of your limbs while swimming never ends well.

I jogged to the beach and the first 3 waves had already gone. I was wave 6. I waited as long as I possibly could to take off my shoes, hat and sweatshirt and drop them to the 'holding area'. I would not touch the water before the start. If I knew how cold it was, I might just back out. But if I ran into the water full bore when the gun went off, I might just take my brain by surprise (as if I could surprise my brain after some of the stuff I've put it through the last 30 years). And so that's what I did. And my brain was surprised alright. Surprised that 62-degrees hardly felt any colder than the pool I train in! I didn't know it at the time, but this was TEST#1 of the day. Remember that.

A great shot of the start to show you what the view was like on the 'short side' of the rectangle. I think I have a hole in my retina.

I felt amazing in the swim. I had been using a different technique in the water the past month that involved actually swimming instead of flailing around (who knew?). All my training swims were slightly faster because I was not fatiguing as easily. My ability to swim very straight came in very handy on the short section of the rectangle when we swam directly into the rising sun. A quick stop at the turn to shield my eyes and locate the next turn allowed me to swim the entire length in a straight line without needing the ability to sight the intermediate buoys and cause permanent damage to my retinas. I caught more swimmers than usual and it took longer for the wave behind me to catch me. Most importantly, I never once looked up and thought "God, how much further?!" Something that usually happens about 2 minutes into the swim.

No disorientation today. Which is bad because I totally realize at this point that I still have 4 hours of exercise to go.

I emerged in a little under 36 minutes. A good swim for me. I was in the dark about a lot of things on this particular day. Here's what I DIDN'T know: my swim was even better than it sounded because a lot of the times were slower than 'normal' - only a handful of amateurs breaking 30 minutes. I had cracked the top 17% of swimmers and was 12th out of the water in my age group a great jump from my usual 25+%. Here's what I DID know: my training didn't fail me. Here's what I LEARNED: if you have size 13 feet, be sure to pick a wetsuit stripper with some strength instead of two tiny women. "Pull harder!! Really yank it!". And keep your minds out of the gutter. They weren't doing it so I had to. I yanked my foot so hard, I almost pulled both of them down on top of me.

This is not me...but it is a good representation of how comical wetsuit stripping can be. "PULL!"

With feet that were almost numb, every step on the pavement to transition felt like the principal's paddle against my soles...or so I'm guessing. Maybe. I got to my bike and I had a quick discussion with my brain, "Do we really need arm warmers and a vest?" "Yes, you idiot. It doesn't feel cold now but when you start moving, you will realize it is barely 50-degrees!" "Oh, OK. How do you think we're doing? Hey, check out the Power Bar banner; we should try to steal that after the race" "Sounds like a....". Anyway, the rest is not important. If you thought pulling socks onto wet feet was hard - wait till you try getting big, nubby, half-frozen, wet hands through arm warmers. I looked like I was doing Flashdance on LSD. After getting dressed, I took a few snapshots, wrote a letter to Janis and was surprised to see it was still Sunday when I finally got on my bike almost 5 minutes later.

So embarrased that my arm warmers are not positioned exactly right so you can read the 'Kattouf'. It negates the entire day's accomplishment.

I had at least 3 different people tell me that starting at mile 2 of the bike, you climbed for the next 10 miles. Yeah, I didn't believe it either. I thought maybe it was like some kind of Facebook gag or a type of flash mob, "Hey let's all get together and start a rumor that the bike is all uphill." I mean hell, I started telling people even though I had no idea. It was fun in a sadistic sort of way until I found out they were not kidding. As an ex-bike racer I was smart about how I took the hills. Rick was confident that a more conservative heartrate would still yield a good ride and open me up for a good run as well. And I was confident in Rick. I stuck to the nutrition and heartrate plans and at 30:00, I was right at 9 miles (18mph) and picking people off at a constant rate. Mile 6.75 was the last time on the bike that my HR went over 140bpm. It was great day!...for the next 6 miles.

Yeah right - all uphill the first 12 miles. Oh and let me guess, there are 10-foot waves on the lake. Oh. Wait a mintue...

We 'topped out' around mile 12 and we shot down the next couple of miles. I chased a rider who was moving fast - but he chose to coast on several portions of the descent while I pedaled. I raced by him shortly before the road flattened out around mile 14.5. Here's what I DIDN't know: the rider I had just passed was the leader in my age group. It was an absolutely glorious da..:* BANG *. TEST#2. My rear tired exploded like a shotgun literally seconds after passing the 15-mile marker. I pulled slowly to the side of the road. "Well, that sucks...I was going pretty good. Coulda been a great day." I dismounted and was in no hurry to take stock of the situation. The last couple of years I've rarely even carried a spare with me figuring if I flat I'm out of it. Besides, this is like race # 278,304. But today, for some reason...I carried a spare. I stood there kind of glazed over for what seemed an eternity. One by one, people raced by me. And one by one, they shouted things like "do you need anything?" and "are you OK?". That was THE defining moment. That was the point at which the 46-year-old me remembered the 16-year-old me. The thrill of the race; the desire to face obstacles head on with total disregard to 'what HAS happened' and total focus on 'what WILL happen'. The video at the bginning of this post was me 30 years ago. Don't think...just overcome. What the hell happened to me? Go, DAMN IT!

I set to task ripping my tire off the rim. I was using racing tires that you glue on and with cold hands and a good glue job - it was not easy. But I was in a new frame of mind that really was an old frame of mind. I 'willed' the tire off the rim. I mounted the new tire and crossed my fingers that the air cartridge would not have problems. One squeeze and BAM! About 120psi. I threw the wheel back on the bike, grabbed the old tire and cartridge in my hand and - after leaving the 'event' - I entered the 'race'. What I DIDN'T know: the second place rider in my age group rode by while I was fixing the flat and I had been stopped for almost exactly 7 minutes. I rode a quarter-mile and threw my tire and cartridge into the feed zone, put my head down, and 'got to it'.

Totally relaxed. Totally aero. Totally gonna look bad luck in the face and say "Nanny-nanny, boo-boo".

First and foremost, I had to remember that my rear tire was no longer glued on. The pressure would keep it on just fine except for any turns. Fortunately, there were not a lot of turns on this course but it would still eat a minute or two into my time as I normally take turns like any veteran of 30 years of bike racing would - insanely. Instead, I felt comical nearly coming to a stop at every turn. Just 3 miles after I flatted, I caught and passed a guy in my age group. At this point, I didn't know that he was second in my age group and that he had passed me while I was changing my tire. He was really moving well. At mile 20 we shot down a steep descent that was equally steep on the other side. I decided to attack it and gain some time. I kicked it as I neared the bottom and carried my momentum into the climb, passing a couple of women who were already slowed to nearly a stop. Shift, shift, shift...TEST#3. I was shifting too agressively and my chain dropped. I quickly moved to the side of the road and disengaged as my bike quickly rolled to a stop.

There was no thought process involved. I was a different guy than the one that started this ride. I jumped off, got my chain back on in a matter of seconds, looked at the steepness of the road in front of me and without a moments hesitation - started to run. On my toes. In my cycling shoes. Dragging my bike. I ran up that climb for almost 2 minutes until I could reach a spot flat enough to mount my bike safely. Guess what? The second place rider passed me again. This had to be both entertaining and psychologically annoying for him. I think I spurred him on because this time it took me until mile 35 to catch him...and pass him yet again. All this while, I was still keeping the heartrate in check. I was still well within myself.

The photographer caught me literally as I remounted my bike. I dropped my chain on this climb and ran to the top.

I had to deal with a few more turns in the next 15 or so miles and crawl through them but I did what I had to do and used all my skill to keep from losing time. When I hit mile 50, I looked down to see 2:12 on my Garmin. I should easily break 2:30 'ride time'. The question is - how much time had I spent 'not moving'? Turns out that number was a little over 7 minutes. I was taking my last sips of nutrition when the powers that be slapped me in the face for the last and final time. TEST#4. At first it made a sound similar to when you get a leaf stuck on your frame and it rubs your tire. For me, it sounded a bit like the sound someone makes when they stick their tongue out at you - not that I'm insinuating some higher being had an agenda. PHSSSSSSS. At mile 51.5 my rear tire slowly began to lose air. Over the course of the next 3 miles, it gradully reached totally flat. The last mile was rim and road, cushioned only by the thin layer of latex that was once an inflated tire. As I approached the final turn into the park, I REALLY had to be careful. A couple of volunteers must have thought I was going to stop at the park entrance and yelled "No, the dismount line is a little further." As I barely rounded the turned I could hear some woman say "Oh, he has a flat tire".

Because of my flat tire situation, I blew off my usual routine of pulling my feet out of my shoes and removing my Garmin from my handlebars while still riding. I ran into transiton, threw my bike on the rack and didn't give any of my problems a second thought. I had arrived. I had arrived back at a place where it didn't matter what you threw at me, I would merely kick it to the curb. It reminded me of a recent poster I saw about marathoning:

One of my favorite posters courtesy of I <3 to run on Facebook.

I stripped (not completely, of course - I'm saving that till I'm in the 100+ division and my dimentia kicks in), chugged, re-shod and off I went. I heard another bike slam onto the racks as I ran out. What I DIDN'T know: the guy I played tag with all day on the bike managed to catch back up to me in the final miles and that was him racking his bike just behind me. I stuck myself in my prescribed heartrate zone and started focusing on the runner ahead of me. I don't know if it's just me but I have a hard enough time guessing how fast I am moving when I'm just out for a run, but after 3 hours of swimming and cycling my body always feels like it's moving at about a 10-minute pace...but I wasn't. I cruised past mile 1 in 6:34. Before all my 'asthma stuff' a couple of years ago, I had this trick of being able to predict my run pace as being whatever my first mile was. It was pretty darn accurate. Any guesses on my final run pace today?

As Popeye would say, "Looks at me musk-els...ah, guh, guh, guh, guh"

The course was quite the change from last year's point-to-point, net downhill. We climbed 700 feet in 13 miles with a couple of very long grades and a couple of very steep grades. I was on auto-pilot and hitting my splits like a world-class bowler (get it?) - not having any idea where I was in my age group. I was still on the first lap and the runners were spread pretty thin - catching 2 or 3 'targets' per mile. My target around the 6-mile mark was moving well and as I approached, I could see he was 48. I pulled beside him and we exchanged words about how bad the road camber was in parts; basically because it's the politically correct thing to do. Yelling "Yeah, I'm gonna kick your ass", would not be nearly as sportsman-like although we all pretend it's not what we're thinking...I knew as soon as I went by him, he would be looking at my legs. Not because they are well-toned and shapely but because that's where my age was written. I also knew that I would have to give a little extra "umph" as I passed him just to say "Uh, uh...don't even think about it." Moments later, I crossed the 10k timing mat and turned to start lap 2 and join the masses of people on their first lap. What I DIDN'T know: I had just overtaken the leader in my age group and Janis - sitting at home in Greenville - saw me cross the 10k mat and calculated that I was exactly 10 seconds ahead of 2nd place at that very moment. She actually had more information than I did.

The run? Yeah...also not flat. If you squint a bit, it almost looks like the course is flipping you off.

I entered the climb at mile 7 still feeling good and decided that it was not too early to take it up a notch so I did. The large number of runners ahead of me now spurred me on. I chased a young relay runner who was surprised to see me. He ran with me for 2 miles before I left him behind. As I often do, I got the feed station at mile 3 all riled up on my first lap and had an ice-cold, defizzed Coke with my number on it waiting for me on lap 2! Messing with the volunteers is one of my favorite things. They are awesome. I kept focusing on the runners ahead of me that were moving faster. Mile 11 was a steady downhill for the most part and I chased one runner for nearly the entire mile. I finally caught her. I don't think she liked that (and she told me so after the race ;-) but she also told me that I pushed her to stay close the final 2 miles up a slight grade. I have that effect on women. She stayed within 30 seconds of me those final 2 miles and she would wind up being the top amateur female. As I turned onto the finish straight, they announced me as being the 8th amateur to finish. That didn't help me much because I didn't know if anyone ahead of me was in my age group. I also thought that there were tons of age groups behond me and with all my problems on the bike, I would be lucky for a top 30 finish.

"Aaaaand CUT! That's a wrap. Don't forget to shut off your Garmins"

It only took a few minutes for the puzzle to come together. I had won my age group. It took a bit longer to learn that I was 12th overall amateur. 12th overall and yet for 7 minutes on the side of the road I was a spectator. It was bittersweet. Those 7 minutes cost me a top-5 overall. If you throw in 2 or 3 mintutes for running up a hill on the bike course, riding in on a flat and taking all my turns at a standstill...I was looking at a top 3. This is one "I coulda" that wasn't purely conjecture - it was fact. But at the same time, it was another "I coulda". "I coulda sat there on the side of the road and waited to be picked up by a race vehicle. I coulda sat at the finish line and watched everyone else finish. I coulda gone to the awards ceremony and thought it just wasn't my day." But I didn't. And it was. It felt great to be 16 again...

I only wish Janis was here to share the day with!

Notes:
* Much like Portland, I noticed almost immediately that nobody was on their cell phone while driving. Illegal here. And again, like Portland - and unlike its reputation - the New York drivers were courteous and I saw very few doing anything stupid or illegal. I used to think that there were bad drivers 'everywhere'. After visiting Portland and Syracuse, the cold hard truth is that these people wouldn't last a day driving in Atlanta. Our drivers suck.
* This was the first time I can remember that I was literally all alone at an event. No Janis, no teammates, nobody I knew. Doing an event like this on your own is double hard. (Of course Finn snuck along but without opposible thumbs, he was only good for moral support)
* Do not read this race report and see it as a message to 'never quit' a race. 'Never' is a very definitive term. There are a lot of sensible reasons to quit a race. I mention this because a friend of mine was literally disgusted at Chris McCormack for quitting a 70.3. "He's a pro, he shouldn't quit". Sometimes quitting will ensure that you are able to race another day. Don't have so much pride that you overrun your brain. Don't misinterpret quitting a single event with quitting reaching for your goals.
* I rarely lose my sense of humor. While I was running up the hill in my bike shoes pushing my bike, a couple of people rode by and one said "Bummer". I just turned towards them and yelled "Where the hell is transition?!" (we were at mile 21...in the middle of nowhere)
* DO NOT USE HIGH COUNTRY SHIPPING to ship your bike to an event (or for any other reason for that matter). Trust me. Unless you have an extra hundred dollars to burn in your backyard and a lot of extra time and stress to fix their screw ups.
* Thanks to my friend David Hall who lent me his neoprene cap for the swim. Although I didn't realize it, I'm sure it was one reason why the water did not feel as cold. Plus it gave me an idea of what I would look like if I were black and bald. And the answer is: not bad.
* The last time I had to deal with some 'weather condtions' was at Ironman Wisconsin. In both cases, I dressed perfectly on the bike and the temps were completely a non-issue. By the time the race was over, the day couldn't be any more beautiful: clear and 65-70-degrees.
* I would finish out my day with the 4th fastest amateur run split; a 1:26:03. The athlete in my age group who came into transition just behind me turned an impressive 1:28:47 and yet he never saw me (he ended up also catching the guy I caught at mile 6 and overtook him to finish 2nd). It had to be a hard psychological day for him if you could imagine it from his point of view.
* My streak continues - I've qualified for World's at every Ironman and 70.3 I've done. Number of times I've accepted? 0.
* After 5 years of triathlon and dozens of events at every distance, my streak of having one of the 5 fastest amateur bike splits was broken. My bike split was 22nd.
* As I mentioned in my report, in my last two half-irons my run average has been within seconds of my first mile split; something I used to do often 'pre-asthma'

Next Up: Rev3 South Carolina and Spinx Half Marathon

These poor bikes - suffocated to death by their owners. Why do people insist on killing their bikes? I hope the culprits were caught...

Never flatted in 6 years of triathlon and today - twice. With a total of less than 40 miles on it, this tire cost me about $1.50 per mile...

Location: Between a tree and a lake, NC
Date: August 6, 2011
Placing: 11th Overall, 3rd Master, 1st 45-49
Format: Olympic distance Triathlon
My Race Photos
Official Race Photos
Results: Click Here

I blame the Waikiki Swim Club. According to history, the very first event that combined 3 sports in succession was in 1902 and featured running, cycling and canoeing. Done. We could have ended it there; with the ability to suck in as much oxygen as we could at any time throughout the event. Using one of "the Giordanelli principles" it is not a stretch to say that my rowing ability would rival my cycling/running ability and I would now be living off my millions of dollars in endorsments and my triathlon clothing line. But no. Enter the Waikiki Swim Club.

The Waikiki Swim Club had to insist that swimmers were more fit than runners (when in fact, they are simply more 'mutant' than runners...uh-uh-uh...talk to the hand). And from there...SWIM, bike, run became the triathlon standard we know today. Remind me to send the Waikiki Swim Club a case of Shark Bait cologne as a token of my appreciation. I dream of what would have happened if maybe someone else was there INSTEAD of swimmers when the Ironman was being born. There are a handful of possibilities that could have made me a legend - a household name. For instance, what if Ben & Jerry had been there? Bike, Run, eat 5 gallons of ice cream. How about Shields & Yarnell? (Google it, kids). Bike, run, dance the robot. Einstein? Bike, run, solve complex mathematical equations. "I coulda been a contender"...if only.

Awesome teammate and general 'man about town' Cameraon Dorn. Problem is you never know which town in which country on any given day.

Those first 2 paragraphs are what we writers call "setting the stage". It lets you know that I will - at a later point in the story - use my own inadequacies as an excuse. But first, some character development and a plot. So there we were, Janis and I hanging out in the middle of nowhere with Coach Rick and his wife Gail. The Kattouf's had rented a cabin in the woods on the top of a mountain. Up a gravel road that was not for the squeemish - and definitely not for a Prius or Yugo. My front-wheel drive Rav4 was having a hard enough time. We found it hilarious that the owner charges a $25 gravel road fee as part of the rental. That money must go towards signage that says "caution: steep, gravel road". Because it certainly isn't going towards making the road any better.

The Lake Logan triathlon falls into a special category for me. It is a category many athletes have: races I've tried repeatedly to attend and have not been able to. I have 'ditched' more races over the past 30 years than I care to admit. Some were just 'on my plan' while others I had already paid for. I wish I had all the money in entry fees over the years that I 'gave away' to races. But even when cancelling out on races I'm no amateur. This was my 3rd attempt to make this race and I finally got there. At least I never pre-paid my entry fees. I think the Virginia Beach Rock n' Roll Half Marathon is my record. It took me 4 years to finally get there - and I waved goodbye to my entry fee for 2 of those (BTW - when I finally did it, it was a great race!). I may try to break that record as I debate signing up for the New Year's Eve 5k at midnight in Clemmons, NC...for the 3rd year. We have yet to actually attend it. On a final note here. I don't want to make it sound like I run around throwing out entry fees. As a matter of fact, after I completed my first iron-distance triathlon, Janis told me that she saw 2 or 3 people pulled from the swim in the first couple of minutes. They were fine; just had anxiety attacks and hyperventilated. Janis told me that if it had been me - after spending all the time and money - that she would have walked over and pushed me back in the water.

Team K in our stealth black team outfits. If we ever do a race at night, you'll never see us comin'.

You don't see a lot of Kenyans lining up to do the mile. Why? It just ain't their thang. And so it is with me and the olympic distance. Compared to all other distances, the swim is more heavily weighted - and especially here where the bike was even shorter than the standard 40 kilometers and not very challenging or technical to boot. I usually have a lot of catching up to do after the swim leg but in a race like this, I felt like I was on the 50-yard-line and everyone else was lined up on the 5 (see how I brought my football audience into the story). But I came here because it was supposed to be beautiful and at least a few degrees cooler than the unforgiving sun back in Greenville. It was both. And as weekends go, I cared a lot less about the race and a lot more about a relaxing weekend with Janis and friends.

A little more chillin' than usual going on at the Team Kattouf headquarters this race.

I was almost too uncaring about the race. I can't remember the last time I was so disorganized. I basically did nothing to prepare the day before. The morning was a constant game of 'what did I forget now'? An athlete struck up a conversation with me as I walked from the parking area to the venue. It was his first tri and he was a bit nervous. I told him it didn't matter what happened - he was going to have a blast. I had to laugh to myself a few minutes later when I went to the registration table and he was ahead of me. He had signed up for the Open division. I had seen this before. People don't realize that the Open division is for the athletes vying for a top 10 or so. I didn't say anything to him, but he was in for an experience.

Up there in the mountains, the lake was still wetsuit legal and I barely got myself together in time to jump in the water for 60 seconds. I had a sudden realization that my wedding ring was very loose and I didn't want to lose it in the lake so I jumped out to find Janis but I was cut short by the call to the start. It's probably just as well, the last thing I needed was women hitting on me while I'm trying to swim.

A beautiful lake swim. I enjoyed it so much that I took my time. Yeah, that's my story.

I felt a bit strained from the start but I stayed steady. In my head, I thought I would have a little advantage because the buoys leading to the turn were not in a straight line and we did not have to go around them. But that rarely stops some people from taking the long way around. Not me I swim slow but straight and I cut a laser line to the turn about 700 meters out. If you've never done an open water swim race, it's a lot like running. With a blindfold on.

After an eternity of flailing my arms about, I approached the swim exit. It was several yards upstream from the start and into the mouth of the river that feeds the lake. Almost immediately as we crossed under the roadway bridge for the final 50 meters, the water temperature dropped what had to be 15 degrees. It was cold but amazingly refreshing. Unlike many of my triathlon swims where we are required to hoist ourselves out of the water, I needed no assistance from the volunteers to fling myself onto the dock as if the lake were regurgitating some bad fish.

Searching for my rip-cord so I can pull my parachute.

Normally in my races, I start my watch timer and refer to it during the race as my "master time keeper"; just a running total of my time. Today, I was without my watch and I felt a bit naked. But it's a good thing I didn't have it on because if I had looked down when I ran into the first transition and seen my time, I would have quit right then and there. Seriously. Take your definition of slow...and add two more minutes. Imagine Roseanne Barr showing up to singing practice...with a cold. That bad.

The guy behind me probably saved 8 seconds by not putting his shoes on in transition. I enjoyed racing by him at 25 mph as he was riding 3 mph trying to get his shoes on.

We had a bit of a run along the grass with our bikes to the mount line. I did it with my shoes on - the guy next to me did it barefoot. He jumped on his bike and was off. I was right behind him. Well, fortunately I wasn't RIGHT behind him because he was weaving and nearly falling over as he tried to get his feet in the shoes. As I instantly raced by him full bore, I leaned over and said "It's NOT faster". I hope I didn't ruin triathlon for anyone, but...It's NOT faster. It's slower AND more dangerous.

I went to task doing what I do best and made short work of the course. It was fast and had no technical sections. Again, not a lot of chances for a cyclist to gain time. I even made a rookie mistake going into the last (and only real) climb. I misjudged the grade and stayed in my big chainring. I could tell it was a mistake but I had committed and it cost me some time. I was also starting to let my head take over a bit. I was disappointed at this point that I hadn't caught more Open wave athletes.

A great ride up until the final few miles. A good time, but nothing extraordinary today.

I jumped off the bike in time to see another Open Master (Tom Mather) already starting the run about a minute ahead of me. Tom is one of the fastest Master runners in the state. That's HIS sport. Which is why I couldn't understand how he was still ahead of me after the bike. I had a fast transition and off I went. The six-mile course was basically a gradual climb for 3 miles and then a turn around to a gradual descent into the finish. I didn't understand why I seemed so far behind everyone but I figured if I hit my 6:00/mile pace on the run then everthing would have to work out. And it seemed like for the first time today, things were going as anticipated.

Do I look powerful? I feel powerful. I just wish I had felt this way about 30 minutes earlier.

I had no watch on, but my tempo felt strong and fast. In the first couple of miles I ran down 2 Open Masters. Up ahead, I could see the black uniform and ponytail that is the distinct trademark of my teammate Gail Kattouf. As I approached her - and passed mile 2 - I started to see the first place athletes coming towards me. It's always funny to me how I can feel like a 10-minute gap on paper is long but when you are out on the course, it was less than 2 running miles. It was like the leader was right there in front of me. Or so it seems. I caught Gail just before the turn around and we exchanged words between our labored breathing. I counted over a dozen people still ahead of me before I hit the turn including Masters David Hall and Tom Mather. But neither of them provided the inspiration to keep flying. No - that distinction belonged almost completely to the ladies.

I had chased down Gail just before the turnaround. Shortly after the turnaround, I found myself chasing another 'ponytail' - ANOTHER national caliber female athelte, Alicia Parr. I can't remember exactly but Alicia held the distinction last year of winning high honors at multiple national championships. She made an excellent target. Again - a few words of encouragement exchanged. I was 4 miles in at this point and I was being sharply reminded that it had been a long time since I had run a 10k without socks on. I was bascially drilling a hole in the end of my big toe. My glances went back and forth between the athletes I was chasing - and my shoe; where I expected at any minute to see the color of blood seeping through.

I ran down a lot of people today. But the one thing I couldn't run down was my crappy swim.

Two miles left and I still felt good. Strained, but good. I thought that Alicia was in 1st place for the women but no. No sooner had I left Alicia than I started to catch my next quarry. Yep, another woman. This woman was a pro whom I'd never heard of. Male or female - it made no difference to me. They were all just targets. With a mile to go there was no sign of the two 'known' Masters ahead of me and I hoped that I would somehow sneak into 3rd with my run resurecting a less-than-stellar swim/bike combo. I rounded a curve with a half mile to go and there he was right in front of me. I could see the "OM" written on his calf denoting "Open Master". I took a few deep breaths and backed down a bit. You have to be prepared when you pass someone that close to the end that you pass them convincingly.

It probably sounds funny but in situations like this, I actually expend energy trying not to be heard until I am right on top of the person I am passing. I want to give them no time to respond or prepare. I feel like a mouse sneaking up on a piece of cheese just before he POUNCES ON IT. I was starting to run out of gas a bit so I had to just do it. I did. He had little left to respond and I managed to hold a small gap to the finish. Within a couple of mintues I got to see an amazing race for the line as the top 3 women that I had passed all finished within 18 seconds of each other.

I was almost confused by what had happened today. I know I'm not a specialist at this distance but the race I had planned in my head never materialized. My confusion was laid to rest as soon as I saw the results. As I mentioned earlier, my swim was beyond bad. I even wondered if I had done some extra distance somewhere. My bike was OK - but it too was a minute or two slower than I was capable of. My run was pretty much the only thing that actually showed up ready to go today. Taking into consideration the gradual climb on the way out and my toe on the way back, my 6:10 pace was pretty much where I expected it to be.

I managed to pull out a 'podium' finish - not something that always happens at this distance.

I would finish 11th overall and 3rd Master. Oddly enough, both Masters ahead of me were in different age groups (40-44 and 50-54). Putting me first for my age group. As anticipated, I pulled back about 5 minutes on each of the two Masters ahead of me on the bike and run. But I finished 9 and 7 minutes slower than them in the swim. Holy cow. 95th swim split, 6th bike split, 10th run split. I guess it really doesn't look that different than usual. But 95th?! Sheesh.

Notes:
* This race actually has money at it so several pros actually showed up - some very good pros.
* Teammate Gail Kattouf took 3rd in the women's race. 19 seconds behind 1st and 8 seconds behind 2nd.
* I found it sort of funny that the top 3 Masters each specialized in a different discipline...and I mean specialize. David Hall and Tom Mather are probably both in the top 5 Masters in the state in swimming and running respectively. With my cycling, we would make one really wicked Masters relay.
* The "hole" in my toe really was like a hole. I had to baby that thing for several days.
* Nothing felt better than jumping back into the lake where we exited the swim. It was frigid and awesome.

Next Up: Paris Mountain 7k and Syracuse 70.3

Location: Portland, OR
Date: July 10, 2011
Placing: 12th Overall, 1st Master
Format: Half-Iron distance Triathlon
My Race Photos
Official Race Photos
Results: Click Here

Hey, what just happened? I wish I knew. Somewhere around 3 years ago - in what some believe was an attempt to become a better swimmer - I tried to breathe in a glass of water. Because I'm not a fish, I developed mild pneumonia. A few short months later it happened again. Some would say I have a 'drinking problem' but that is neither here nor there. According to my doctor this series of episodes caused me to contract 'allergy-induced asthma' after 40+ years of near-perfect health. I'm not sure I beleive the doctors, after all they are also the same ones who say I'm 'getting older' and that's just ludicrous. A more likely scenario is that someone cast a spell on me. A spell that I have been trying to undo for some time now but you just can't find eye of newt and dragon blood at Whole Foods these days. So I've mainly resorted to being a guinea pig to modern medicine.

My look as I enter the finish at May's Rev3 Knoxville let's you know some of the struggles I've had this season. That's not my happy face...

I could draw a roller coaster graph of my performance in 2009 and 2010. Unable to figure out what it is that aggravates my condition and what it is that helps it. With the addition of adding Rick Kattouf as my coach, I set PR's when I felt 'normal'. Unfortunately, I also set PR's when I wasn't normal...as in Personal Records for worst times. It was impossible to tell which G-Man would show up for an event when I was 4 weeks out. Psychic hotlines were no help at all. Well, at least not with regard to my racing. They did actually help me win a couple of $5 payouts in the South Carolina lottery. It certainly made the $2 per minute phone calls worth their weight in gold; if you consider that a phone call doesn't weigh anything.

To finish the story - and to spare you the details - 2011 was a huge decline in my ability to push my heartrate and a struggle to perform anywhere close to what I had been capable of even just a few months prior. Then, about 2 months ago we re-did the test that basically tells the levels of allergens in my body (or rather, the power of the spell cast upon me) and what my dosage of Xolair should be (or the potion that counteracts the spell put on me). Xolair is a monthly shot I get to block allergens and it is the only thing that I truly believe is helping me. Turns out, my allergen levels had gone way up and my dosage was doing about one-third of what it used to do. About 6 weeks ago, we upped my dosage. Two weeks later, I was able to get my HR up near my normal max at the Sunrise Run and wasn't too terribly far off of 'normal'. The next week - I ran a 5:02 mile at the All-Comers Track Meet. And then, about 2 weeks ago, I not only turned a really fast time at the Red, White and Blue Shoes 5k, but I felt 'powerful' again for the first time in a long time. Right after that, I ran a 2:20 marathon at the Olympic Trials. That didn't actually happen. But it all brings me to Rev3 Portland.

The week before Portland, I ran a 16:53 5k (net downhill course, but fast nonetheless) and finished much closer to my 'usual' competition than I had all year.

Portland was awesome. They were having Winter in the middle of July with afternoon highs in the mid to upper 70s. And all that crap about "It always rains in Portland" is just propoganda to keep the rest of us out of their little secret sanctuary. It was cloudy the day we arrived and then blue skies for the next 4 days straight. Originally, we had not planned to rent a car because we made reservations downtown overlooking both the Willamette River and the race venue. Unfortunately, Rev3 had to change the race venue at the last minute because of a problem with one of the towns on the bike segment. How does that happen? Don't you have something in writing? Did the town send them an email that simply said "HA! - just kiding" with a cute little smiley face emoticon?. Maybe someone just cast a spell on them too. The race went from challenging hills to just about pancake flat. If we hadn't already made plans to turn this trip into a vacation, I would have seriously debated getting my money back. One of the reasons I like Rev3 is they are not afraid to pick hard courses. And hard courses = no drafting (or at least it makes it inefficient to do it). Also, the easier the bike course is, the harder it is for me to put time on other athletes. But as you can see by my varied racing over the past 30 year...throw a challenge in the air and I won't hesitate to jump up and grab it. Of course sometimes it hits me in the eye. At least now it would be an EASY half-iron (my favorite phrase)

The view as we drove to our Portland hotel. It was a cloudy day when we drove in...but hardly a cloud in the sky for the next 4 days.

But Rev3 managed to pull it off with a great last-minute venue. A beautiful park with a nice lake and an almost unencumbered view of Mt. Hood for most of the race. Not too terribly hard to do since Mt. Hood sticks out like a sore - but very beautiful and majestic - thumb. As an added bonus, the new swim course was billed as being all downhill...and although the run was a bit on the boring side, I got to see Janis about a dozen times without her moving much at all (another thing I like about Rev3 - they care about the spectators almost as much as I do). This was awesome because it is hard for me to go more than an hour without seeing Janis.

If you know me, then you know that I would wake up 10 minutes before the race start if I could. I'd actually wake up AFTER the race start if that was possible. I see no reason to add additional stress - and lose sleep - by sitting around at the venue. Rev3 really wins here. The race starts later than "the other guys", the transition stays open longer, and there is no blaringly loud music. Sorry if you like to have your eardrums blown out at 5am but you can do that with an iPod. I want relaxation, serenity and the ability to hear myself think. Ahhhhh. Of course, the flaw in my "sleep-in" plan is that Portland is on the left coast and I am from the right coast. That means, when it is 4am in Portland my body thinks it is 7am. So regardless of my 6am alarm setting...5:15 it was. Portland is also much further North than South Cacalacki and that means it was light at 5:15. Reminded me of Quassy last year. It would be great if the days were that long in the Winter but it doesn't work that way.

Birdseye view of the transition area. Well, birdseye for me. And yes, it's the middle of July and I am wearing a windbreaker. Sweet.

Okay. So I'm going to admit here that getting up early was a blessing in disguise that I had not expected. Turns out that my body really appreciated the 3 full hours I gave it to digest my breakfast. I even had time to sip more water all morning and for the first time ever...I [insert your euphamism for peeing here ie. "shook the dew"] 3 times before the start! Janis has become somewhat of a number-placement artist at Rev3 races where they give you stickers to apply yourself the morning of the race. I'm beginning to think that maybe she has tattoo parlor experience somewhere in her sordid past. It's an extra minute of effort on the part of the athlete but there's no waiting in line for body-marking. Chip pickup is also during packet pick-up and bikes are racked the night before the event. At first I wasn't sure I liked this but now I love it. The only thing I have to do when I arrive at the venue on race morning is set up my transition and deal with autograph hounds. No numbers, bikes or chips.

Hmmm, let's see. Parka? No. Armwarmers? Yes. A Big Mac? Yes. Wait; probably not enough time. Ensure instead. OK, I think I got it all.

With the air temperature a cool 58-degrees, I opted to throw arm warmers and a jacket in my transition and while I was doing that, I was surprised to hear them announce that the swim would be wetsuit legal for amateurs...but NOT wetsuit legal for pros. What?! It's in the upper 50's in the morning and the highs are about 77-degrees! I can't believe it was THAT close. Sure enough, once I got my wetsuit on and stepped into the water, it felt amazingly warm compared to the air temperature. It is nice that the pros get a seperate start that is 30 minutes before any age-groupers. We all get to watch the first pros exit the water - something you rarely get to do at other events. It gave me a chance to see the chioces they made in regard to what they wore, and how they handle the start of their transition. I heard a couple of people comment that the swim course must be a bit long because of the times. That would not be good for me; but more on that in a minute.

At 58 degrees, it was actually comfortable wearing the wetsuit before the start. I might start wearing it around town this Fall back in Greenville. Plus, I imagine it would be great for running in sleet and hail.

My wave of about 100 athletes went off last and we had a nice wide beach start - only two or three rows deep. Of course, as soon as the gun went off, those same 100 guys all tried to swim to the same exact 2-ft-wide spot 100 meters ahead. I managed to get away with only a minimum of bumping and kicking. I was happy with my fast - but not hypoxic - start. The course was a loooong rectangle and we started on the bottom-right corner. We swam a short distance out then a sharp left for close to 900-meters. That 900-meters was directly into the sun. The first time I looked up it was like lasers in my eyes. There was no way to sight the next buoy so I just had to believe that everyone around me was heading the right direction. Every time I looked up it was like daggers and every once in a while, I would somehow catch sight of the next large, floating 'R'...and its location would literally be burned into my retina. I was able to use my super power of swimming straight to stay close to the line of buoys on the way out and I was unpleasantly distracted for several minutes by a guy who was drafting me and didn't know how to keep his hands behind - or to the side - of my feet. I mean, I expect a few toe taps along the way but I think this guy was trying to give me a pedicure. I finally lost him by swimming right up next to another athlete and then stopping for just a second. Sure enough, I passed him off to annoy the next guy.

The glare on the buoy in this shot gives you an idea of harsh the sun was. But we were looking directly into it.

We rounded turn 2 for the short part of the rectangle and then turn 3 to head back to the start. Now - with the sun directly behind us - you felt like you had bionic vision. I could almost see South Carolina in the distance it was so clear. I started heading for the next buoy and after a few strokes, I saw the next bouy beyond that one was off to the right so I started swimming right some more. A few strokes later...the same thing. I decided to come to a full stop and sighted the bouy aaaaaalllllll the way at the end. They were somewhat curving and the rules say that I don't have to go around any interim bouys; only that you have to swim on the outside of the corner buoys. So I started heading straight for the last bouy and realized that about half the group was doing what I was doing and off to my left was the other half swimming from bouy to bouy. Once again, chalk one up to knowing the rules and using the noggin to save time. I felt strong throughout the swim and was hoping I would hit my mark of 37:00 that I gave to Janis. I emerged from the water just behind a woman competitor and glanced down to see 36:35. Oh yeah. The hard part is done and I'm almost exactly on schedule. Of course all the troubles I've been encountering haven't showed up until the bike leg so I wasn't ready to count my chickens just yet.

I don't know what looks funnier - me racing out of the water like I'm in first place (even though I am way back in the swim pack) - or nearly knocking over the woman next to me who is acting like this is not a race at all. With swimming being such a slow part of my triathlon, I'm guessing nobody would ever believe Janis if she turned to someone as I came out of the water and said "Oh yeah, he'll finish top 20". I'm pretty sure, I'd be thinking "Whatever, lady - he's like so far behind it's not funny". I once told Janis she should stand at the exit of the swim and take side bets that the 47-year-old man that just exited the water in 800th place would be in the top 20. She'd probably make a killing.

Would you look at that - Brightroom got a shot of me about to just about knock over the lady in front of me to get to the steps first. C'mon, lady...IT'S A RACE!

Because of the late venue change, there was a logistical challenge. There was a half-mile run on pavement to get from the lake to transition (not to mention a flight of stairs right out of the water). Rev3 gave athletes the option to hang a bag of shoes on a rack near the exit. You could grab your shoes, throw your wetsuit back into the bag and take off. Many people took advantage of this, even a few pros. Not this ironman. My transitions are slow enough. Besides, the benefit of doing a lot of racing is that I've encountered similar situations. Why just this past March at San Juan 70.3 we ran something like 6 miles from the water to transition dodging Puerto Rican traffic on dirt roads. At least that's how I remember it. So I opted to rely on the skills I learned as a firewalker when I was growing up in Nepal and skipped the shoes. I was still wise enough to strip my wetsuit at the water exit (a wet wetsuit is easier to strip). I stopped right in front of a woman and did the 'wetsuit dance'. All the while she just stared at me with her mouth gaped open as if she were watching some caged beast during a mating ritual. I'm sure my "Uggghhhs" and "Hmmmpphhs" added to the effect.

What? This thing? Oh, that's my wetsuit. I carry it everywhere I go. Right now, I'm carrying it a half-mile so that it can be reunited with my bike. They are best friends.

I ran past Janis and she echoed out loud the sentiments in my head, "Now the race STARTS". I made what seemed like fairly short work of T1 and made the decision NOT to down my usual bottle of Ensure. My brain said I didn't need it and that it would be easier to finish all the bottles on my bike if I skipped it. Things usually work out for the best when I listen to my brain so...no Ensure. I was also plenty warm from the swim and skipped the arm warmers and jacket. I would have been the only person wearing them if I had done so. I mounted my steed and shot off like a rocket. Unlike most of my races, it took me a little over 3 miles before my body would back down to my appointed HR of 140 and settle in. I felt good although I didn't actually feel like I was going that fast.

I feel the need. The need for speed.

The road was closed so we had more than enough room for passing, etc. The route also followed the Columbia River which was very scenic. Every time we headed East, we had a full-view shot of Mt. Hood and I gave it plenty of glances. Normally, I like to have a lot of people to pass; I see each one as a mini-target. But today it was not so good. Oddly, the road surface on the shoulder was quite smooth, but the lane itself was a macadam surface with a very bumpy feel. It's a much slower surface and by the time on was on the second lap, I was hoping to not have to pass anyone else. And fortunately at that point people were few and far between. It was a flat and fast course with only a couple of slight up-and-downs each lap and no turns (only the turnarounds at each end). A course with absolutely nothing technical and this fast is not very conducive to helping me put time on my competition. It would be like a race where we all swam with a huge current and didn't have to sight any turns. The distance of the swim would be the same, but the difference between the fastest swimmer and slowest swimmer would be much smaller than on a challenging course.

S'cuse me. Old guy coming through. Try not to spontaneously combust when I pass. Man, if I could swim this fast...

Although I don't watch any kind of average or current speed on my bike since I simply watch my heartrate, I still extrapolate my speed at key times. So, at the 1-hour mark I looked down to see that I had covered 25.2 miles. At current speed, I was looking at about a 2:13. My estimate to Janis? 2:15. There were two very significant things that happened on the bike...or rather DIDN'T happen. First, I had no problem drinking my bottles. I would say that this hasn't happened in xxx races but in all honesty, I'm not sure it's EVER happened. I did not feel over-bloated and full (like I did for the entire ride at Knoxville) and I also did not feel like I just didn't want to drink. It was so unlike me. Approximately every 5 miles, I took a drink and managed to finish all three of my bottles just before the ride was over. More importantly - the other thing that didn't happen was anything. No, that's not a mal-formed thought. Literally NOTHING happened. No loss of power, no big drop in heartrate, nothing. I was so scared of what I've come to expect that I even backed off my heartrate just a few beats after mile 40. All I could think of was "when's it going to happen".

Well, I might have been expecting something to happen...but to hell if I was going to wait for it. In the last quarter-mile of the bike, I pulled my feet out of my shoes and somehow managed to get my Garmin off my handlebars and into my mouth. I had skipped wearing my Garmin on the run in my last event out of disgust but today - if I was going to have a blow-up - I was going to have the data to go with it. I did my usual slam right up to the dismount line where my shoe disengaged from the pedal. I ran into transition with a bike in one hand, a shoe in the other, and my Garmin hanging from my mouth.

I got a bit disgusted immediately when I got to my rack only to find that they had placed someone's wetsuit bag right where my wheel was supposed to go (that 10 seconds cost me one overall placing, thank you). I threw my shoe down, pulled off my helmet and threw it down, grabbed my Ensure and opened it, grabed the Garmin out of my mouth, chugged the Ensure, dropped the bottle, threw the Garmin back in my mouth, grabbed my sunglasses and race belt, slipped my running shoes on, started to run out of transition, put my glasses on, clipped my race belt around my waist, grabbed the Garmin out of my mouth and put it on my wrist, reset the Garmin, pressed the 'start' button and then finally looked up to see my first turn on the run. All that took about a minute from the dismount line.

This is where my whole plan fell apart - mile 1 of the run. The plan was to feel crappy and have trouble getting my heartrate up. So much for THAT plan. I like THIS plan much better. Mile 1: 6:35.

The first half-mile of the run was through a field of tall grass that had been pressed down and then a dirt road. The grass was crazy-slick. It was like ice skating and I was glad it was only a couple hundred yards. When I emerged onto the road, Janis was cheering hard. My body felt 'indifferent' for lack of a better term. I was not fatigued and was not anywhere close to exhaustion. I passed the 1-mile marker and a few seconds later, my Garmin beeped "6:35". No. Way. I hardly felt like I was moving and my heartrate was just a hair over 140. Mile 2: "6:25". The back of my brain was saying "Holy Crap!" just quietly enough so that the front half couldn't hear it. The front half was still worried about "when IT was going to happen".

Mile 4.5. One of my favorite pics that Janis took. You don't have to ask how fast I am going or how I feel. It's all right there in the picture.

I am averaging a 6:30 pace when I get back to Janis at mile 4.5. As I raced past several runners I held my hands out to my sides and said softly to her "6:30's!!?". She snapped one of my favorite pictures at that moment. I look like I felt: powerful. I would describe the feeling but it was undescribable. No pain, no struggle. Only fear, as I watched my heartrate gently climb each mile. I was like a metronome. I watched the pros coming toward me as they were finishing. Then the age group leaders. I looked every one of them in the eye as we passed each other. It was a look I hadn't given in a long time. It said "you'd better not slow down...becuase I'm sure as hell not". But again, I was still worried. This wasn't how things have been for a while. I kept putting off my last surge. At first, I told myself when I hit mile 9 that I would take it up. Then mile 10. By the time I realized that the old G-Man had shown up, it was too late to make up a lot of time. I was content to catch 2 more guys in the last mile - although at this point I was pretty sure that anybody I caught had started 5 minutes ahead of me.

I'd have to look back pretty far to see that look on my face and that kind of form at the finish of a half-iron event. Unfortunately, I look too good - I definietly left something out on the course. But I didn't care. You can't buy the way I felt today.

Wave starts are good becuase they keep people who are in the same age group together and yet spread out the competitors. The flip side of that is that for someone like me who often times is looking for a good 'overall' placing, it can be a game of 'out-of-sight, out-of-mind'. For instance, as I rounded the final turn to enter the finishing chute, there was a runner just 4 seconds ahead of me and another one some 20 seconds ahead of me. Unfortunately, I could not see them because they started in a wave 5 minutes before me and had already crossed the finish line. No doubt, they had each other to push them to their limit in the final seconds of the race. I didn't have the luxury of having anyone to chase across the finish line. After a long string of low-energy races, it's like I'd forgotten how to push myself to the finish line and arrive with nothing left. No matter. Today was not about placing well. For me, today was about freedom. Freedom from whatever it is that has been messing with my body. It certainly is the closest I've felt to being a superhero in quite a while. G-Man lives...

I love that Rev3 shows your photo on the jumbo tron when you are finishing. Before the race, I had my picture taken with Janis - so there we are, two stories tall.

I arrived across the finish line as the 12th place amateur and 1st Master. My splits tell the same story they've told for years: out of the amateurs...105th swim slpit, 4th bike split and 8th run split. My bike and run split combined to be the 3rd fastest. My Garmin shows that my run miles had a deviance of only about 20 seconds between the fastest and slowest. AND...I was greeted with my free Qdoba burrito at the finish. It was as big as my face. I absolutely LOVE that Rev3 doesn't make me wait until 6pm for the awards ceremony. As a matter of fact, I haven't been to an IM awards ceremony in the last 3 of their races...but I've made it to all 3 Rev3 awards. I had just enough time to enjoy my lunch, clean myself - and my transition - up a bit, and pack my bike back in it's shipping box; then it was awards time. And a big thank you again, Rev3 for appreciating my hard work by giving me worthwhile prizes!! What a tremendous day and we still had 3 more days to spend in Portland. Best race trip for 2011 so far.

And...the money shot.

Thanks again to my wonderful wife Janis - who knows more about triathlons than most people that actually do them! And of course, Coach Rick from TeamKattouf coaching. I think we got that nutrition plan dialed in, Rick. Fleet Feet, Rudy Project, Garmin and Mauldin Chiropractic can all take partial credit for this perfomance. Thanks all!

Notes:
* Janis befriended a woman during the race. Turns out, her husband was the guy that beat me by 4 seconds.
* While I was on the left coast, teammate Cameron Dorn was on the right coast at Providence 70.3 taking 3rd in his age group (15th overall). And although I know it was far from her best performance, my other teammate Gail Kattouf was taking 5th place in her age group at Muncie 70.3. I'd say TeamKattouf had the US covered this weekend.
* We went straight to the FedEx office from the venue and sent my bike on its journey home. Cost to ship it round trip? $160. And I stuffed that thing with my entire triathlon (wetsuit, goggles, bike, tools, pump, helmet, running shoes, bike shoes, water bottles and all my nutrition, transtion towel, tools, etc.).
* Portland drivers are the best drivers. That is not a joke. It is illegal to talk on your cell phone while driving. Hmmm. Coincidence?
* You also can not pump your own gas in Oregon. True. They have gas station attendants.
* Voodoo Doughnuts was awesome. Google it.

Next Up: Lake Logan Tri, Paris Mountain 7k and Branson 70.3

Janis and I headed out to haystack rock on the Oregon coast our last day there.

Location: Charleston, SC
Date: April 2, 2011
Placing: 77th Overall (37,000 finishers), 3rd 45-49
Format: 10k Run
Race Photos: Island Photography (you'll have to key in bib #38)
My Race Photos
Results: Click Here

NOTE: I didn't wind up with any real race photos to speak of this time, so I thought I would ad lib...

Ahhh. The Cooper River Bridge Run. Me and 40,000 of my closest friends trying desperately to get out of Mount Pleasant, SC. I imagine the sight would be similar if unfriendly aliens had landed in San Francisco and deactivated everything electronic or with a motor and the entire population had to escape over the Golden Gate Bridge. Sure go ahead and laugh but all this running, riding and swimming I do is secretly in preperation for just such a day. It's likely only the first humdred or so humans will make it to safety and it's looking pretty good for me. How about you?

The Bridge Run always reminds me of my days as a stunt double for David Lee Roth. Good times.

Have you ever seen the movie Same Time Next Year? Well, if you haven't seen that you must've seen Groundhog Day? Often times this is what it feels like when you do the same race - with many of the same people. A famous quote often attributed to Einstein defines insanity as "doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results". People who enter events and expect faster times are (by defnition) insane. Not me. This quote proves that I am NOT insame because I enter the same event expecting the SAME results; the same results I had when I was 20 years younger ;-) Or, in the case of the Bridge Run - one year younger. Of course that quote doesn't exactly hold true in racing anyway because there are so many factors that the only reason we keep coming back for more is the staunch belief that even when we did our fastest time, it is likely that not everything was exactly perfect. It's this assumption that allows us to rationalize our insanity. Psychology lesson 1 complete.

Sticking with the movie theme...I gotta tell you - Janis and I are like the supercomputer in War Games. We have been travelling to events for so long that we have ammassed a knowledge about the logistics of racing that is almost ninja-like. And when we go to an event, we instantly learn how to adapt the next time we go to make our experience better. Here's an example: On the way to Charleston Friday night for packet pick-up, I changed into running attire and had Janis drive the last portion. Last year, we were stuck in a huge traffic jam around the auditorium where thousands of people were trying to get their packets. Lesson learned. We got off the highway early and took a side road near the bridge until we were about a mile away. Then Janis found a free place to pull over (a post office) and I jumped out of the car with my waist pack on and jogged to the auditorium. I ran in - directly to my packet pickup area (I am fortunate enough to have a seperate pick-up area for local elite runners) - grabbed my packet, and jogged back to the car. In fifteen minutes I got my packet, and got my 2-mile warm-up jog. In the meantime, Janis read a few dozen pages of her novel in the relaxed solitude of an empty parking lot. Less than 10 minutes later, we were at the hotel. And that, my friends is how it's done. Stress-free.

Disturbing? Maybe. But it's this kind of mind that pushes me beyond normal limitations.

Part of our plan this year included combining our knowledge with a couple of other Bridge Run pros - Bob Mancuso and Ruth McDonough (our awesome massage therapists). Ruth and Janis had their own plan devised for spectating and they left just before 7am to make it across the bridge into Chucktown before the bridge closed to all traffic. Ruth had a secret place to park that was a few blocks from the finish line and they had their coffee shop already 'pre-selected'. I jogged the mile and a quarter to the start as part of my warmup. The temperature was a bit warmer than last year - just over 50 degrees. Perfect running weather. With all the lung-related issues I've had the last couple of years, I no longer had the consistency that I took for granted most of my racing life. These days, it was a roll of the dice and my expectations are somewhat relaxed. I just remember that my worst day still impresses me - and I'm the only one that counts. I actually felt pretty good but that totally means nothing. After a billion races I've learned that how you feel before a race is about as good an indicator of your performance as flipping a coin would be.

A little too pretentious? Well, get used to it because I'm 46 now; it's only a matter of time before I start breaking out the costumes at races. Pray for Janis.

American Idol winner Ruben Studdard belted out the National Anthem and a group of past participants from The Biggest Loser gave the crowd some imspiration. All the while I spent jogging back and forth playing 'pick the winner' from the large number of African runners that were warming up. I ran back to the course to watch the wheelchair athletes take off. An impressive display of upper body strength. God forbid something should put me into a wheelchair, I would take up the challenge right beside them. You don't become a good athlete by seeing obstacles; you become one by accepting challenges.

We lined up to start. This year, those that were selected as 'elites' would start in a small wave that consisted of anyone who could prove a time under 40:00 so it was a bit more crowded than last year when about 60 of us got to start a few yards ahead of the rest of the group. The gun sounded and I did what I always do - I ran hard until my heartrate reached its appointed place and then settled in. Twice I had to literally muscle my way between 2 runners that started way too fast and were blocking my way. It didn't bother me that they took off too fast - so I hope it didn't bother them that they got a little 'elbow time' from me.

I don't line up ON the front line...I AM the front line. It's funny how I look so much more 'gaunt' in my race photos. The camera actually subtracts about 40 pounds. Mostly from my arms.

I had memorized my mile splits from last year because, well, that's what we do. And even though I was racing by heartrate and had no intentions of letting my mile splits change my strategy, I was still anxious to see if I was anywhere near my optimal speed from last year. Mile 1 was a 5:21. From which year you ask? Both. Yep, my first mile for both years was exactly the same. Well hell - that's a good sign. At the end of mile 2 we started up the bridge and I throttled my heartrate; staying on task and allowing a good number of people to pass me. *Beep*. Mile 2 = 6:05. Last year? 5:49. Oops. I looked at my Garmin and almost out loud pondered "Is this thing working?".

I finally crested the top of the bridge at mile 3. *Beep* Mile 3 = 6:13. Last year? 5:49 again. Aw, c'mon. But here's a few things that I was aware of but never seemed to process. First of all, at this pace I would've expected more people to be passing me - but since we started up the grade, I believe I ended up with a 'positive pass rate'. Also, there were several people I knew around me and relative to our placings last year I was in better position. Lastly, the thing that should have blown me over was the thing that was blowing me over: the wind. All across the bridge I was getting buffeted around and was actually looking for small groups of runners to draft off of (never really had the opportunity) and yet I never put two and two together while I was running. Like I mentioned in my first couple of paragraphs...I just kept expecting the SAME RESULTS when everything around me was telling me the conditions were obviously different.

That Janis. She's so sly. I don't know how she fools me time after time after time after...

As I stop the story for minute at mile 3, I have to tell you one thing that has made me chuckle both years. The organizers of this event - the 3rd largest 10k in the US - can not seem to get the mile markers right to save their life. They are not like 5 or 10 feet off; they're like an entire state off. If you go back and read my race report from last year you will read about how a group of us passed mile 2 with a 5:00 mile. We all laughed out load at how that was the 'fastest mile we've ever done in a 10k'. Of course the clock and marker were way short. This year, mile 2 was right where it was supposed to be. But mile 3? Let's just say that I once again clocked a 5:00 mile. I mean really. How hard is it to get these things in the right place? Absolute hilarity. Oh yeah, and one more funny thing as we approached their mile 3. I watched as one runner just ahead of me refused to move over even the slightest bit to let another runner fit between himself and the race clock on the side of the bridge. I totally winced as the passing runner double-stepped back behind the other runner at the last instant and missed hitting the clock by millimeters.

Mile 4. Hell yeah - all downhill. Since I get to keep the same heartrate going down that I held going up this is the part where we see some fireworks. But it was more like a firecracker. Last year I flew down the hill at a 5:07 pace (and that was a 'real' mile) and picked people off left and right. This year, it was like running through peanut butter...another 21 seconds slower than last year. But my brain was thrilled that I was not having any heartrate problems and so on I pushed; still seeming to make up ground on other runners. At the bottom of the bridge I took up my heartraet to it's highest zone and I passed Tom Mather whom I had beaten by just a few seconds last year at this race - but who had beaten me by about 40 seconds last month at the Reedy River 10k. Another decent sign for me.

An actual race photo! Just a few yards away from the finish line - I felt dead, and yet adding an extra 8 miles on afterwards in preparation for the Boston Marathon went extremely well.

Miles 5 and 6 were now spent in the pain zone. I was amazed to see mile 5 was only 5 seconds off of last year. We were back out of the wind now and I STILL hadn't put it together yet. Halfway through mile 6 I was begging for the final turn to show up. I was at the end of my rope and had nothing left. *Beep* Mile 6 = 5:37. Which year? Both. That's right, my first mile and my last mile were exactly the same as last year. Somewhere in the middle I had lost 1:13 but I was not aware of all that as I shuffled across the line. Getting passed in the last second by a runner who had beaten me by 5 seconds last year. I had even made up time on him. Only after talking to some of the other runners did it finally become apparent that the wind ahd played a large roll in our times today. Most of the faster runners (many of whom did not have the benefit of hiding in the draft of large groups of people) reported a differnce of close to a mintue. Whew. If that's the case, I was looking at only a very slight speed difference from last year. Excellent news.

But my fun was not over. With the "Big Dance" coming up in 2 weeks (Boston Marathon), coach Rick had prescribed an additional 8 miles. After that kind of effort, I had little hope of feeling 'spry' but these 8 miles - which I did by running back and forth down a 1/3-mile section of a closed 6-lane road - turned out to be almost a better thing than the race itself. At what felt like a moderate jog, I averaged a 6:45 pace for another 8 miles. I even ended up running the first couple of those miles with a guy who finished just a few seconds ahead of me. A guy who I did not know but who turned out to also be named Chris (Lowe) and who lives ON the Boston Marathon course. Too cool.

I realized that as I finished my 8 miles, I had to get to the elite bus where my clothes were. And now, the only way to get to the street it was on was to actually jump back into the race for a few blocks and make my way over there. I then had to do it again in order to 'exit' the area. After that, I jogged directly to the Starbuck's a few blocks away where Janis, Ruth and Bob were already enjoying some food and drinks - and a glorious day.

My final placing was 77th overall out of about 37,000 finishers. Last year I was 62nd so that's not really a big statistical diffence. Although this year, One 'uber-runner' showed up at the age of 45 and turned a 31-minute time and change (18th overall). It says he's from New Mexico but his name tells me he grew up in a place where they run from birth. Another 45-year-old beat me by about 40 seconds giving me 3rd this year in my age group. A time and result that I am happy with heading into Boston.

Race Notes:
* Just in case I hadn't said it in a while...thanks to Fleet Feet Sports, Team Kattouf Coaching, Rudy Project, Garmin and Mauldin Chiropractic for your support. You all rock!
* For all the problems they have with placing the mile markers, my Garmin had the course at 6.25 miles both years (a 10k is 6.20 miles).
* While I was running in my 'little' 10k, 3 of my friends were running a trail race (Umstead): Jackie Lafontaine, Mike Pastore and Eric Gelber. Jackie took 10th overall out of 103 finishers in the 50-miler. Mike and Eric both set PR's and finished in the top 25% of the 100-miler by running for just over 20 hours!
* .

Next Up: Boston Marathon...or as I like the call it "the Boston"

Finn thought he owned the place when we got to the hotel...

Location: San Juan, PR
Date: March 19, 2011
Placing: 24th Amateur, 2nd Master, 2nd 45-49
Format: Half Ironman
Race Photos: My Race Photos
Results: Click Here

Puerto Rico. It's like a whole other country. Or is it? Yeah, I'm pretty good at geography...but not so good at history or politics. Which is to say that I know WHERE Puerto Rico is but I don't know WHAT Puerto Rico is. It's like a yogurt flavor at Baskin Robbins - is it ice cream or not? Does it belong with the other ice creams? Yes and no. And so it is with Puerto Rico. Part America; part not-America. I don't blame them for their dual identity. I mean if someone said to me "Be a part of the US and pay taxes", I'd say no thank you. But "Be part of the US and we'll help you pay for things"...well, you get the idea. So as it stands, Puerto Rico is a US Territory. I just know it's a place to go do an Ironman event. Oh yeah, and they also have a different word for everything...except "ironman". I'm not sure what the word for pain is, but it makes no difference because the facial experession is the same in any language.

Not sure what the translation is for the word pain, but if you show someone this picture they will know what you mean no matter what language they speak.

You may already know that I am not a huge fan of Ironman but they are what I like to call a 'necessary evil' in the world of triathlon but I am trying to help change that by doing 3 Rev3 half-iron races in 2011. M-Dot (Ironman Corp) slipped yet another notch this year by changing something so sacred that it is almost unforgiveable. Don't they realize that even though we are a competitive lot that it actually IS all fun and games? So what is this travesty? OK, I'll tell you but don't blame me if you don't want to sign up for anymore Ironman events.

All of a sudden, you no longer have an open textbox to list your occupation/profession when registering for a race - now it's a dropdpown selection. Can you believe it!?? No more "Shrimpin' Boat Captains" or "Double Agents" or "Gigilos". They robbed me of my chance to be a "Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition Sand Remover". No. From now on I'd be racing against "Salesmen" and "Managers". For the love of God, is it really THAT important that you know exactly what I do for a living that you have to try and take away ALL our fun?! I gave it my best shot; if you look me up in the results you'll see that my profession is "Culinary Arts" which is not far from the truth since I play with my food. While we are on the subject, I really love it when races ask for a "List of Accomplishments". Problem is that they have yet to read what I've written. I don't know; I guess they are expecting me to put down races and times that I've done and not that I was school table tennis champion - or the fastest 10-key touch cashier in San Antonio (you might not remember this but cashiers used to have to actually punch in the prices of items. That was 'round about the time they invented the wheel)...or other 'real' accomplishments. I went to accept an award once and after reading the list of accomplishments of the 2 people that finished ahead of me, they got to my name and were dead silent. Guess which race is NOT on my list of accomplishments. Na-na-na-na-na-naa

The view from Eric's parent's house was like something out of Jurassic Park.

I could write a big book about our trip to Puerto Rico but this is about racing so I'll stick to writing this small book instead. I'll just throw out some observations. A lot of what we ate either fell off a tree in someone's backyard or was raised around the corner. It doesn't get fresher than that. I raced Puerto Rico partially because my good friends Eric and Jackie Lafontaine invited me. Eric grew up on the island and we stayed a few days with his parents in his childhood home deep, deep, deep in the center of the island. Eric's parents were gracious hosts and his mother cooked some amazing meals for us. The staple there is plantains. They are like giant bananas but they treat them like potatoes- they fry them, mash them, put them in stews, and sell Mr. Plantain Head (I made that last one up). You name it. I'm pretty sure McGyver could have escaped from any situation with just his wits and a plantain. San Juan looked like just about any other beach town but away from the beach, it was like buildings had just sprung up in the middle of a jungle. Very cool. Beautifully lush and some interesting rock formations. It was really wierd in that one instant you felt like you were in a foriegn country and the next instant you felt like you were in the US. When we were driving...that was one of the parts that felt like a foriegn country; a foreign country where there are no rules. I loved being able to pull over to a fruit stand and look at all the fresh fruit sitting there and creating my own smoothie on the fly.."...and throw a mango in there, too...". DE-LISH! Of course, I'm not sure how wielding an 18" machette in public would go over in the states...

Is that a machette in your pocket or are you just...slicing up coconuts.

We definitely picked the right race in at least one respect. At the end of 2010, Ironman held an inaugural event in Miami and it was a catastrophe. So much so that they handed out free races to the participants. Well, Puerto Rico is about 100 miles from Miami and you can bet that Ironman was going to make sure that this race over-delivered. And for the most part, it did. Plenty of volunteers and supplies, and a safe course.

One last thing before I get on to the race; the expo. I rarely ever visit the expo at a race because I know that the time in the expo is not as good as time I could be spending doing something else with Janis. Besides, after years of racing, to me they are just one giant store filled with things I can buy around the corner at home. However, they have some redeeming value in that you can find out about upcoming events, grab some free samples of things, or get an item you may have forgotten to bring. But the best reason to visit the expo is entertainment value. I would apologize in advance at the risk that I might offend someone but you know me better than that by now. There is nothing more entertaining than to watch a company convince people that their product will make them faster. They will use every marketing tactic possible...except of course for real research. And triathletes are the worst at buying into it. I had a chance to run through this expo and was hoping to grab a glimpse at what people would be wearing/using in the upcoming season. What would it be? Compression neck braces that increase the flow to the brain so that you believe you can go faster? Maybe special hand paddles that you wear while running so that your hand 'slices' through the air and makes you more aerodynamic. (P.S. I call dibs on that idea).

= Roger, Tri-ship 1...you are cleared for your jump to hyperspace. Prepare your crew by engaging your blue-leg, blowup thingies...=

Here's a bit of an insider tip. Just because a pro uses it or says it is faster, that doesn't make it so. Those people need to make a living you know. I was almost through the expo - distraught that I had come up dry - and then I saw it. Fors real. It can only be explained with a photo (above). I may buy stock in this company because apparently a now-defunct independant labaoratory showed that their product increased blood flow to the legs by 50% in laboratory rats (when compared to the alternate method of slicing your aorta open). And more blood flow = more oxygen. And more oxygen = better looking skin. And better looking skin = better sense of self. And everyone knows better sense of self = faster! I am so gonna get me some!

An awesome early morning shot from the bridge over the lagoon facing the ocean. The majority of the swim occured on the other side of the bridge.

The swim was one of the best venues I've ever been in. It was a lagoon that was actually an inlet right off the ocean. Picture the lagoon from Gilligan's Island...and then think of the opposite. Large rocks at the mouth of the inlet broke the incoming waves and the chop was minimal - only a bit rough the final 100 meters or so during the race. For a good portion of the swim you could see the sandy, seaweed-speckled bottom as close as 8 feet down through the crystal clear water. It was a point-to-point swim but just made a giant rectangle that started on one side of the lagoon and finished a couple hundred yards away on the other side. Spectators watched from the bridge that we swam under. I'm not sure who decided what the temperature limit was for legal wetsuit use but undoubtedly they had 'thicker skin' and a higher heartrate than this ex-Texas boy who was transplanted to the frigid North of South Carolina. I was shivering almost uncontrollably when I got in and I think they announced the water temp at 150-degrees. That's usually the temperature I use for an ice bath.

The camera may or may not add 10 pounds...but the lack of a wetsuit definitely adds about 4 minutes so I had given Janis a pre-race estimate of 40:00. The gun sounded and I took off at a steady rate; always remembering how I used to take off way too fast and end up hyper-ventilating. It seemed like any other swim - with the same scenery stroke after stroke. With the half-iron races using a wave start, it is soooo much better with respect to getting banged around. I only had a couple of times where I had to 'deal' with people who were doing their best to help me out by swimming in circles. About 2/3 of the way through my swim, the 'pink caps' caught me and I swear the first one by me had an outboard motor. Seriously. She was swimming above the water and creating a 1-foot high wake in her...well, wake. I made a mental note to do the same to her on the bike; whoever she was.

The final hundred meters to the 'swim out ramp' were a bit choppy but manageable. Swimming under the bridge (which was pretty low to the water) was actually cool.

I exited the water onto the ramp and after the volunteers helped me down the steps I glanced at my watch to see 40:05. Officially, it was 39:54 out of the water. How's that for predicting your time? But it gets better later. I began the run to the first transition by first passing the shoe monument. This is where hundreds of pairs of shoes were left by athletes so they wouldn't have to run to Miami barefoot. Oh yes, it was almost to Miami. It's a toss up between this race and the Mountaineer Half Iron event as to which one had the longer run to T1. I believe this one was worse because it was on roads and not sidewalk. So no, I didn't stop for lunch during my 4:09 first transition. My feet handled it without problem and as a matter of fact, for the first time I can remember I felt no diziness at all coming out of the swim. Could it be that all this time it was my wetsuit depriving me of oxygen because it's so tight? Does it really matter; because I'm still gonna wear it every chance I get...

"I'm done taking my bath, mom...can I go ride my bike now?"

It never gets old telling people how far back I was after the swim. It's like guys saying 'pull my finger'. Although some day I would prefer the joke be "I was first out of the water". I was 53rd in my age group after the swim - 14 minutes behind the 45+ leader. As I finally mounted my steed, I wondered if hopping on a bike would ever feel strange to me. It's as natural as walking, eating ice cream, or over-using punctuation!!!?? Today I felt especially spry as I jetted away and yet found it easy to throttle my effort to keep the heartrate where I was supposed to. I had told Janis that I was looking for a 2:15 bike. Adding in 5 minutes for the transitions would mean that I would be running by 3 hours and should break my ever-present, self-imposed 4:30 standard for the day. The course started out pretty hilly; mainly due to highway overpasses. As it flattened out and we headed along next to the coastline I could feel that I was flying even though the wind was whipping around me. I got to thinking that I must have the tailwind right now and hoped that the headwind would not be too torturous. For about the millionth time, I wondered why people were not smart enough to take advantage of things like taking the shortest line around a curve or riding really close to retianing walls that helped to block the wind. Or finding the lowest part of the road to also help reduce wind drag. The only reason I even think of these things is because I see other people NOT doing them. It was obvious after a few miles that part of the organizer's attempt to make this a stellar race was to clean the roads impecably - shoulders and all. My kitchen floor wasn't that clean. Wait; scratch that. Janis will probably be reading this (but it was that clean). That was awesome! It allowed me to take advantage of all the things I mentioned above. In addition, I felt comfortable stopping to pick up half-eaten Powerbars that people dropped and finishing them off. No. Not really. They were mostly blueberry-flavored.

Two things to note here..1) What the view from a tropical island looks like and 2) What 26mph on a bike looks like (Photo: FinisherPix)

I passed my friend Jackie (who started in an earlier wave) somewhere around the 25 mile mark. I wanted to slap her on the butt as I passed but then the headline went through my head..."athletes crash during display of sexual harrassment", so I used my better judgement and simply gave her some words of encouragement. I continued on passing people as they were spread pretty evenly out on the course. And then I noticed it. About 2/3 of the way through the bike, my heartrate was dropping - I'd say it's unusual in an event this long but it's actually unusual for the heartrate to be going in that direction at all. In the final 15 or so miles, my speed decreased partially due to the wind but equally due to the fact that I kept finding myself having to forcably pick up my pace (and therefore my heartrate). The bike course doubled back on itself in the middle part but the last 10-12 miles you passed the 'finishers, go right' sign and when I did, I was suddenly alone and only saw 4 or 5 other competitors the rest of the way in. I knew I lost some time the final miles but I was still moving well. I pulled my feet out of my shoes on the final downhill and then braved the final 100 meters which were on a sidewalk with lots of cracks for your wheel to fall into (Janis saw a nasty crash here). I ran into transition and there on the rack for my age group was one lone bike. At this moment, I knew I was in second and I thought confidently to myself that whoever it was would not run faster than me. Later I would find out that my bike split was 2:15:21. Again - how's that for predicting?

Crap! 21 seconds slower than my predicted time. I'll have to remember not to ride with one hand off my handlebars next time...

I slammed my Ensure and ran. As I passed out of the stadium I looked down to see that I was so close to my schedule it was funny: 3:00:30. The run course was as difficult - and awesome - as any course I've ever done. The uphills were ridiculous. Two nasty hills every 3-mile section as we went back and forth through the town of Old San Juan. Ocean vistas, cobbled streets, old spanish fort, it was such a cool run that I wish I had been on a training run instead of a death march. As soon as I started, I felt low on energy but my first mile was uphill and I turned a 7:00 mile...and I didn't really hurt, my body simply felt laxidasical. During the first few miles, the course was nearly empty except for the pros and it was impressive to see the speed that some of them were running - and the grimmaces on some of their faces.

I got to start in a pretty early wave so by the time I got to the run, the first lap was pretty deserted except for the pros. (BTW, heel-striker? Yeah, I think so)

About 2.5 miles in, we ran down, down, down to the water level and ran through the 8-foot wide tunnel in the wall that surrounds Old San Juan. I was directed onto the path they built that followed the jagged edge of the island in the shadow of the fort. The water was lapping up against the rocks just a few feet away. A minute later, I realized that I had not seen a soul since I went through the 'gate'. I got nervous that I was sent the wrong way but kept going. At mile 3 I was still at a 7:00 pace even though I couldn't push very hard. I was good with that. But unfortunately, the miles just got slower from there on out. Shortly after passing mile 3, someone finally came running towards me and he was wearing a number close to mine. Aha! First place in my age group. It was only a few seconds later when I hit the turnaround that I realized he was less than a minute ahead...and I could do nothing about it. I quit looking at my Garmin as both my times and heartrate went up. Amazingly, I ran the following paces for each of the last 3 quarters of the run: 7:32, 7:34, and 7:31. Which goes to show that what was going on with me wasn't normal fatigue. In addition, I never walked once - even up the incredibly steep climb in town (the wheelchair athlete had to go backwards up this climb - an unbeleievable sight). I just had no 'overdrive' today.

Check out that view for about a mile of the run each lap. Well, the bad news is that in about a mile from this point, I will be at a spot about 3 times the height of that wall in the distance (Photo: FinisherPix)

The aid stations were phenomenal. Well stocked with both liquids and sponges and let me tell you folks - they were nice and cold. Nothing tastes better than cold. I had all but given up hope of catching first place and was getting concerned about being caught by third! When I hit the far turnaround again - this time at around mile 10 - I was actually a few seconds closer to him. But still, I had no more power to give. As we went up the long, slow grade in the last mile, I could see him up in the distance. I ran to the turnaround point near the stadium knowing that this time I wouldn't be turning around. I was completely devoid of any energy and in some cruel twist of sadism, the volunteer yelled "last lap, turn left to the finish". I turned left and was greeted by a man-made walking bridge that went about 60 feet up. I could not believe it. I shuffled up it; all the while looking backwards to make sure that nobody was coming behind me and that I didn't have to move any faster than I was already moving. I ran down the other side and the final hundred yards to the finish. My age group winner had finished only 18 seconds ahead of me. 18 seconds. That was the Coke I forgot to drink in the final 3 miles. Ugghhh! It really didn't matter to me because the bigger disappointment was performing well below my capabilities. In over a dozen half-irons, that run was the slowest by 6 minutes - and I've done hotter, hillier courses than that (before anyone goes and starts making excuses on my behalf). It is humbling and hard to be gracious when the guy that just beat you turns and says "you had a good run" when all you want to do is tell him how bad a run you really had. But that is racing and today - he was the better man. You don't win races on what you did yesterday. At the end of the day, it was a 1:37:06 run and a total time of 4:38:04. Not what I planned or had hoped for. Oddly enough, I was correct back in T2; the winner actually did NOT run faster than me...but I was making the conjecture that it would be minutes that seperated us - not seconds.

Not sure I've ever been so glad to see the finish banner..."Yes!". "What? Turn Left? And go over that mountain of a footbridge?! Are you friggin' CRAZY??!!" I guess they got the last laugh because I was crazy enough to do it.

When all was said and done, I reminded myself that I actually do this because I still enjoy it - even if it hurts every once in a while. The trip was fantastic and Janis and I had fun taking another Segway tour (we are already planning one for Boston while we are there for the marathon). And Eric and Jackie are great people to hang out with...especially becuase Eric makes me look so laid back compared to him ;-) It's a good thing we get along because the Giordanelli's and the Lafontaines are headed to Boston together. Should be another great adventure. Oh yeah and I said I do this because I enjoy it but just for the record, I enjoy it more when I win...

Riding off into the sunset...except we're on Segways instead of horses...and it's teh middle of the day instead of sunset; but the idea is the same.

Race Notes:
* As we left the venue after the race and walked back over the lagoon, we saw a huge manatee hanging out where we swam 5 hours earlier. Although I know they are slow-moving, docile creatures I still think it would have scared the crap out of me if I had seen him during the swim.
* I was 24th overall amateur. This race was capped at 1500 entrants as opposed to 2000 or 2500 like most 70.3 events.
* By the numbers:
last year I won my age group in all 4 half-iron events; today I was 2nd.
last year I was in the top 2 amateur bike splits in all 4 half-iron events; today I was 5th. (the worst amateur bike placing in 5 years of tris).
fastest half-iron run? Rock n' Roll Man 2007 - 1:24:04. slowest half-iron run before today? TryCharleston 2010 - 1:32:12. today? 1:37:06.
* Although I didn't see any groups drafting while I was on the course, I did hear a couple of people complaining about it (one was a pro).
* Eric and Jackie both had great races with a 20th and 8th place respectively in their age groups.
* Still managed to qualify for 70.3 Worlds...although not planning to attend at this time.
* Just realized as I was looking up the results that nobody in the 40-44 age group finished ahead of me...making me the 2nd Master.

Next Up: Cooper River Bridge Run and the Boston Marathon

The only person in the world who completely 'gets me'. I'm not saying she has me figured out but she at least knows what to expect ;-)

A huge manatee (are there any other kind?) hanging out in the laggon we swam in a few hours earlier.

Location: Greenville, SC
Date: February 12, 2011
Placing: 2nd Overall
Format: 10-mile Running Race
My Race Photos
Results: Click Here

I received quite a few comments on my last race report - apparently everyone was enthralled with the idea of cow-chasing. Nothing nearly as spectacular this time. We had no cow to catch. No, this week - it was a GOAT! OK. Not really. Unless you consider Kevin Mosteller a goat (his ears and chin are kind of 'goatish' but I'll leave it up to you). And by the way, his name is pronounced "Most-stellar". At least that's how I like to pronounce it with the kind of flair that a rap star might put on it. Because, by all accounts...he is "most stellar". He would have made a great training partner for the Boston Marathon this year - if he hadn't been shut out by the registration system. Then again, I'm not really sure he deserved to go in place of others since he ONLY beat his qualifying time by 40 minutes. But as usual, I digress...

Yeah, no - it's not some form of new arctic animal. It is Coach Rick letting us know that it is C-O-O-O-L-D

I've done 4 running races in just over a month and I swear each one has been progressively colder than the one before. I could be like a lot of people and scoff at the idea of "global warming" after 2 of the coldest Winters in a row but I'm smarter than that. I know that something like global warming isn't an overnight phenomenon. Al Gore might just have the last laugh in a few hundred thousand years. In the meantime, I'm afraid to show up for the Reedy River Run in a week for fear of a second ice age.

It was a really sparse turnout this year. At least that's what I thought until I discovered that I somehow got the start time wrong by what seemed like 2 days. I felt so amateur - not only for getting the start time wrong, but also for being 'that guy' who is sitting in his car waiting for them to get registration set up. I mean it's great to be excited about racing but at least give people the illusion that you have a life outside of exercise. Fortuantely, I didn't drag Janis with me today to wallow beside me in my shame.

Scotie and Finn try to help pin my number on...but it's hard enough WITH opposable thumbs

After my failed attempt to nap in my car for an hour or so - which just seemed to make me more tired - I finally got up the energy to brave the just-under-30-degree temps to do about a 2-mile warmup. Amazingly, I actually managed to warm up during my warmup and felt comfortable stripping down to my Kattouf shorts and socks, a long-sleeve shirt under my Fleet Feet singlet, and gloves. I must have looked stunning in my color - and sponsor - coordinated outfit. I was confident that if they had decided at the very last moment that it was too cold to run and that we would be judged solely on our attire, I would podium for sure. Only the cheetah skirt could have elevated me another place or two. But then again, I'm not sure I could pull it off anymore. That was a younger, more svelte G-Man.

Team K pose with Gail Kattouf - who won the women's event, Tom Calamia (yellow cap) - who raced his first 8k, and Coach Rick who is really just a figure head

We all moseyed over to the start line when the announcer started barking over the megaphone (which, if it had been named by the people at Starbuck's would have been caled a 'superhumongargatuanphone'). One of his first announcements was "...I'll say 'runners ready'...and then 'go'" After which he immediately said "Runners ready. GO!". Mmmm, yeah. We totally were not expecting that. Several of us at the front were laughing as we started up the road. Did he just really do that? Kevin Most-stellar immediately starting pulling away from us as the lead group behind him slowly formed. In the first mile, the group is like an amoeba trying to take shape. People catching up; people dropping off; people jumping into the race...what?

Yeah, when we got to the first mile marker I looked around to see that I was in a group of about 7. I was surprised to see some people I hadn't noticed when we first took off including a couple of guys running together. At the time, I didn't think anything of it because I would never have guessed that someone would bandit a race of this size. I mean, maybe if you were trying to help a friend out with pacing but why would you and your buddy just decide to 'crash' a race? It can't be because you're lonely since you are running with your other bandit friend. I hope they didn't take any food or water at the stations becuase *I* paid for that stuff. I'm not necessarily saying that you shouldn't ever bandit a race because who knows if there will ever come a time when I need to bandit a race. Like when...well...an evil mastermind kidnaps my family and tells me that if I don't compete in a running race without paying for it, they will slowly release the poisonous gas into the secret chamber where my family is being held - just below the public library in Gotham City. I'm guessing this is exactly what was happening with the guys who were 'banditing' this race. It would HAVE to be because the only other explanation would be that they were afraid to get beat 'officially'. Oh yes I did.

A couple of seconds sooner and you would have seen the 6 or 7 guys that dropped me here as I kept to my prescribed heart rate. I got them all back...

This event is the perfect event for showcasing how running by HR can be so much more efficient. It is actually almost comical when seen throught the eyes of spectators or competitors. Our group was all together at the end of mile 1 right before an all-uphill mile 2. I had to back down to keep the HR in the right spot and so the rest of the group pulled away by a good 30 yards. Mile 3 was flat/rolling and I caught back up literally as we crossed the mile 3 marker. The next half-mile was a good, steady downhill and in order to keep the HR in line, I had to kick it up. I left the group. By mile 5, it was just me and the two bandit runners trading the lead. Every time the road went down, I left them behind and every time it went up, they caught back up.

At about mile 7.5 I used a good downhill to open up a gap but this time - when I hit mile 8 - I was allowed to take the HR up to maximal effort. I never looked back until the final half mile. There was nobody there. I crossed the line and still...nobody. It wasn't until this moment that I realized that the runners had to be bandits. They must have turned off the course somewhere in the final couple of miles. I crossed the line in 58:50. 2nd place. I told Coach Rick that although I know my first few races of the year were well off of pace because of allergy/asthma issues - I would still be disappointed if I could'nt break a 6:00-mile. I was thrilled to see a 5:53 pace. Just a few weeks ago, I couldn't even break a 6:10 pace on a flat half-marathon. It appears that I am returning to 'normal' although I'm not quite counting my chickens yet.

The money shot. Remembering to press the stop button on the Garmin at the exact moment you cross the line is no small feat

I mentioned how comical it might look racing by HR; slowing down on uphills and racing down the other side. Today I was with the group at mile 1, dropped at mile 2, back with the group at mile 3, and by the end of the race I had put more than a minute on the next closest runner. Comical? Maybe. But the results don't lie. One of the other nice things about running this race is that the course has been the same for many years. And I found it quite interesting to compare my Garmin data to my PR last year.

Fo-shizzle! It's Kevin "Most-Stellar" wearing his cap of eminence

Race Notes:
* Fleet Feet runners took 2nd, 4th and 5th overall.
* I felt good during the race but I was wasted during my cooldown (moreso than usual) and had trouble shuffling through 3 extra miles.

Next Up: the Reedy River 10k and Ironman Puerto Rico 70.3

The only man I trust my legs to...Bob "Magic Fingers" Mancuso

Ruth finally meets Finn. Finn says Ruth is his new BFF

Location: Greenville, SC
Date: January 22, 2011
Placing: 22nd Overall, 2nd Master, 1st 44+
Format: 5k Running Race
My Race Photos
Results: Click Here

My 3rd race in 3 weeks - this time a short, local event that is always fun and oddly enough...always cold. Go figure. I guess we forget that January is during what I like to call "Winter". Just because we have the word 'South' in our state name and 'Green' in our city name we have this belief that it should always be warm. I don't think we are fooling Mother Nature with that one - only ourselves. Of course, it could be worse. We often forget, it can ALWAYS be worse.

I've had a bit of a rougher start this year dealing with some lung issues that I still have trouble believing is 'allergy-induced asthma' - as it has officially been diagnosed. My skepticism derives mainly from the fact that it follows the rules of asthma about as much as 'carrot cake' follows the rules of 'deserts' (carrot cake is clearly a vegetable regardless of how you try to disguise the carrots). I feel more comfortable calling what I have 'alien bio-terrorism'. Anyway, this is the worst my alien bio-terrorism has been in 2 years and it's effects on me are minimal when you look at the big picture. But really, who's looking at the big picture. The total picture is that it makes me slower. Some would say I have no room to complain going from 1:16 half marathons to 1:20 half marathons but I would say I have 4 minutes room to complain...

But all of this is OK. It's OK because it helps to remind me that there are bigger fish to fry in our lives; more important things to focus on than just the second hand of a clock. There are things deep down in our hearts that make us run. Things that transcend winning. Today was not about a 16:45 time - or an award. No. Today was about a bigger goal. A goal from deep down inside me. With my wife Janis by my side at the start, I was there for one thing...and one thing only...to beat the cow.

One cow and you've got dinner. Two cows and you've got a herd

Two lungs, one lung, half a lung - there would be no excuses. Mano y Bovine. Now I have no beef with cows; so to speak. And Janis grew up around Wisconsin dairy farms. But do you know what I love more than cows? Chick-fil-a spicy chicken biscuits. Beat the cow = get free chicken biscuits. It's the kind of math that translates in every language. Let me bring you up to speed...

My friend Ashley - who used to work at Scansource with me and is a runner - now works for the Greenville News as an events coordinator. One of the events she works on is this race. A few weeks before the race she announced through Facebook that the Chick-fil-a cow would not only make an appearance this year but he would be running the race. Then came the real news. Beat the cow - get the goods. I got cocky and thought "that cow better be able to break 17 minutes or he'll be paying the piper and that's no bull". Then my friend started leaking some inside information. The "cow" typically runs a sub-16:00 5k. What?! I began to wonder - how much slower the "cow" will be with all his, uh, cow on.

Holy cow! Let's go "round 'em up" boys...

I started getting worried. I knew I was not at 100% and the last thing I wanted was to get my rump roasted by a cow. Plus I knew there was spicy chicken biscuit on the line. FREE spicy chicken biscuit. Did I mention, FREE? As we lined up, the cow emerged from the crowd and lined up in front of all of us. In the blink of an eye, the announcer mummbled something over the crowd about a head start and "BANG" the cow took off. "What?! Hey, they let the cow go early! That's a load of bull..." I looked around but it looked as if nobody cared. How could that be the case? They must have known about the FREE chicken within their grasps, no? I had no idea how much of a head start they were giving him but as the seconds - no minutes - ticked away, fear took control. When our gun finally went off it was like a stampede; I T-boned two kids and took off like I was possessed by Colonel Sanders. There were people all around me and yet nobody existed. Nobody except for the cow.

Moooooooooooo! ...and we're off

I had memorized my heartrate plan before the race but somewhere around mile one all I could think about was "cow, cow, cow,...". And then there he was. I was closing in on mile 2 when he was spotted. Actually, he was always spotted - but now I could see him. He was moooooving. I used the downhill to my advantage and was really hoofing it. Then I realized he was hoofing it 4 times as much. I made sure not to let him see my pain as I passed...there was so much at steak. I took the bull by the horns and gave a convincing burst.

And there it is. Just seconds ahead of 3rd place Master, Joe Hammond

I looked back only once as I ran down the finishing chute. I thought I herd him coming but victory was mine. I crossed the line in 17:41. It was utter elation. I think they tried to hand me a medal but I'm not sure because my eyes were like lasers fixated on the woman handing out the FREE chicken coupons - or as I call them, the FREE chicken trophies. Like a good competitor, I waited to watch the cow finish in an impressive 20 minutes or so (plus the 3 minute head start). I patted him on the back. I was milking this for all it was worth.

"What's that? Where's your brother? Oh, he's behind me. Why didn't you run? Oh I get it, too CHICKEN"

The victory was even sweeter when I received not one, but TWO free coupons attached to a small, plush, toy cow. Finally, something worthy to replace my 3rd place Ironman trophy. The cow stands majestically on the mantel; an ever-present reminder of the day I slaughtered the cow. Oh yeah, I was also the 2nd overall Master and got a beautiful piece of artwork to hang on the wall. I can't WAIT to get my chicken biscuits!

Biscuits for everyone!...well, by 'everyone' I mean 'everyone that beat the cow'...

Race Notes:
* Only 66 people beat the cow...which is less than the number of people who won awards.
* I continued a sort of one-on-one battle with another local Masters runner - Joe Hammond. I took less than 5 seconds out of Joe today. We had a good cooldown run together.
* My lung issues continue to show themselves in the form of slower times this year so far. Today, I was almost a minute slower than last year. That's nearly 20 seconds per mile. Stop and count to 20; it's a long time.

Next Up: the Green Valley 10-miler

Ed Hughes in his usual flairful fashion; dressed as "Captain Blue Shoes". He beat the cow - and won the 50+ age group

Location: Charleston, SC
Date: January 15, 2011
Placing: 17th Overall, 2nd Master, 1st 45+
Format: Half Marathon Running Race
My Race Photos
Results: Click Here
Check the run on Garmin by clicking HERE

Doing good at a race never does anything for me. What I mean is that when I perform 'well' - as defined by the little man inside my brain who is in charge of the G-Man record-keeping and race archive - I really just performed as I had hoped. That sounds great...but what it lacks is an incentive to push harder. It's like humming along with a solid 'B' in your trigonometry class. Yeah, I could just sail through the semester right there in the "comfort zone". 'B' is good, right? But what happens when you have a bad test and it drops you down to almost a 'C'? Or maybe you ace a test and suddenly you are hinging on an 'A'?! Well, if you're like me...you run faster. Scoring a 'B' doesn't drive me. Scoring an 'A' or a 'C'? THAT drives me. Today, I studied hard and I thought I knew the material but alas...a C+ (and no extra credit for style points)

I went into today's race with 'reserved confidence'. It was my second weekend in a row for running a half marathon and I was using my performance last week as my gauge. I used to be that consistent. After all, similar weather and terrain were on the menu (although this race was much closer to the arctic circle - and it felt like it). My time of 1:18:24 last week already seemed a bit slow to me and I figured that this week I would run a 1:17:59 because...well...because once again, the man in my head who does my record-keeping also does my higher math calculations and that's what he came up with. I believe he factored in that most of the point-to-point run would be away from the ocean which would provide a prevailing tailwind and away from the sun which which create a rift between low pressure and high pressure causing lift (vis-a-vie Bernoulli's Law). Personally, I just figured I would be a bit faster because I was a week older and therefore, wiser. OK, really. This event had 3 times as many runners and statistically speaking...3 times...bell-shaped curve...1 standard deviation...carry the 1. I should finish between 7th and 11th on a normal day. (I got a solid 'A' in statistics)

I once again warmed up by running the first mile of the course and back. It was quiet except for the police who were already positioned at their intersections in the center of downtown Charleston. It was actually the prettiest mile out of the 13 and quite serene just 10 minutes before 3,000 people were to come charging through. I saw a woman setting out tables at a small coffee shop and thought about how nice it would be to grab a cup of coffee with Janis...but that would have to wait. I returned to the start line at 0750 hours and met Janis at the drop point for the ritual 'disrobing' and the obligatory 5 minutes of deciding 'do I wear a hat or not'. I opted for not. I knew so many people that were doing this event that I was surprised that I only saw a handful as I mulled around the start line. Entertainment was provided by the start-line crew who were trying desperately to get people to stop crossing the electronic timing mat so that it could be reset.

There was an absence of pre-race fanfare - no Star Spangled Banner or invocations (either that, or I was sleeping; or dreaming of a chocolate milkshake. Sometimes that happens). Out of nowhere, Greenville elite runner Kevin Mosteller popped up next to me (Kevin finished 5th in 1:15:55) and we chatted for a minute or two before we both suddenly snapped back to the realization that they were about to say 'GO'. Kevin and I almost missed the start of the Greer Half Marathon last year for the same reason - discussing all the reasons we might not do well today. It's just something we do.

We all leaned forward in that moment of deafening silence between "runners take your mark" and "GO!". I can always start pretty hard because it takes a couple or minutes to get this engine from a 40 heartrate to 145. At about the quarter mile mark I was actually accidentally in 2nd place. But as soon as I hit the magic 145, I threw it into neutral and slowly watched a group of about 7 runners start to pull away. Near the end of mile one, a runner who had just pulled up beside me threw off his hat. It was a nice-looking hat. And I had pockets. Oh yes, I seriously considered grabbing it but then decided I was here to run and not to shop. That runner left me behind. Oddly enough, I would see him again at mile 12 and finish the race just 3 seconds ahead of him. Funny how that works out.

Not feeling bad early on...just moving a bit slower than expected. And a REAL good day to have my Rudy Project shades on (note the direct sun in the face) (photo courtesy PBC Sports Photography - pbcsportsphotography.com)

First mile was a 5:45. Excellent but I knew it was just me getting up to speed and my plan on this day was to keep a lower HR through mile 4 and then kick it into the next gear. I totally knew the plan. Problem was, I don't think the plan knew the plan. I remember the smell of fresh Brueggar's Bagels as we passed their stor around mile 2. I eat there about twice a week in G'Vegas and as an Italian, fresh bread is like a dessert. For the first time in a long time, I began to get frustrated. First, my mile splits seemed slow. Then on top of that, my Garmin seemed to be marking the miles short again (just like last week). But most importantly, people were still passing me a couple at a time. And I know I shouldn't think this way but the honest truth is it hurts way worse when the assailant is wearing a cotton t-shirt and basketball shorts; or they look older than me; or they're wearing pink compression socks; or they are enjoying a cup of tea; or they exist...

Although my 'easy' HR seemed a bit harder than expected, I was all but ready to jetison the first stage at mile 4 and catch back up to some people. Not gonna happen. I had a serious discussion with my body at mile 5 when my speed increased by only a few seconds. At mile 6, I looked at my watch and blurted out loud "seriously?!". At this point, I knew I was in for a difficult day and that I would be lucky to hold my pace, let alone increase it the final 2 miles. The Yin of it was that I actually had some people in front of me to keep chasing. The Yang of it was I actually had some people in front of me to keep chasing. From mile 6 to 11 I focused on one runner ahead of me. I actually got close enough at one point to reach out and knock him out with a baseball bat...if I had one ;-) He was my saving grace...until we reached mile 11 and he suddenly turned off because he was running the full marathon. Ouch. With 2 miles to go, it was sheer survival. I was now merged with the 10k racers and having people around always helps. At mile 12 I passed the guy from mile 1. The last mile had all these little 'whoop-de-doo' roller coaster bumps and that didn't help at all.

The pain train looms in the distance...metaphorically of course. (photo courtesy PBC Sports Photography - pbcsportsphotography.com)

The pain train was in full swing and with a half-mile to go, I could hear the sounds of the finish line. I focused all my will power on moving the line closer to me. That trick has never worked, but it is still ALWAYS worth trying. I was passed with a quarter-mile left by a 20-year-old that I had left five miles earlier. When I turned down the final hundred yards, insult was added to injuury when I saw the finish clock already past the 1:20 mark. I believe I actually started walking a step or two before the finish line. Done. Cooked. Finished. Twice as hard as last week and 2 minutes slower. If I had run the exact same time as last week, I would have ended up 11th as I had statistically predicted. But apparently nobody was on board today - my plan, statistics, the clock. They all smited me.

We hung around just long enough to get my free shrimp & grits before heading out. I wanted to be sure that my race day didn't interupt Janis' workout plans. She did a 5-mile walk/run all around the Patriot's Point area and I rode her mountain bike alongside her. I highly recommend hopping on a bike after a hard run. It's a trick I learned a long time ago to keep your legs from getting too sore.

I look like a frail child here...which is definitely better than I felt. (photo courtesy PBC Sports Photography - pbcsportsphotography.com)

I still managed to wrangle a top 20 finish (17th) and the 2nd overall Master but the story doesn't end here. I knew that this performance had much less to do with training or racing tactics and a lot more to do with my cursed 'allergy induced asthma'. I talked about a good bit in my race reports from 2010. I've had it pretty much under control for over a year now and it only rears its ugly head every once in a while and usually at shorter events where a more maximal effort is involved. If you read my report from the 2nd week in December you know that I got hit really hard. A couple of weeks later, my pulmonologist told me that a live Christmas tree was a huge no-no for me now. We took it down right after Christmas. During that visit my doctor tested my lungs; something we hadn't done in a year. Then just a couple of days after this race, I went back to the doctor and said that I was still feeling 'off' both at night and during hard exercise. So we performed the test yet again. Here are the results:

Lung capacity readings as a percent of predicted lung capacity (for a normal human male my age)
End of 2009: 144%
Late Dec 2010: 124%
Mid-January 2011: 112%
You don't need to be an 'A' math student to see that something's awry. That's a 22% drop. Doc put me back on some meds that I have been off of for nearly a year. We'll see what happens. But I wouldn't say that all this is a 'ray of sunshine'.

Race Notes:
* Lots of friends in Chucktown and some great performances. But the standout was a 2:57 marathon by my friend Kristi Arledge who decimated the women's field (definition of decimation = 12-minute lead). She was so close to breaking the SC state record for her age group. It is only a matter of time.
* The moment of the day had to be after the race and I asked Janis if she was worried when she didn't see me before an hour and twenty minutes. She looked at me in a 'matter-of-fact' way and simply said "I figured the wheels just fell off".
* It turned out to be a great weekend and we took advantage of the weather. On Sunday, we traded and Janis rode her mountain bike alongside me as I ran over the Bridge and back.

Next Up: the Greenville Downtown 5k - then a few week's break to hopefully get the lungs back to normal

Enjoying an easy bike ride after my race, alongside Janis while she does her workout on a beautiful Charleston day!