Iron-virgin - Ironman Lake Placid

Last Sunday was my debut in an Ironman distance triathlon… arguably the pinnacle of a 4 year process which started with Wildflower 2001. In the past 4 years, I have learned to swim (debatable if you’ve seen my stroke), ride a road/tri bike and run for more than 5 miles.

The last 6 months have been spent following a self-devised training, nutrition and rest plan, destined to get me across the finish line at Ironman Lake Placid in a reasonable time. The *plan* is legendary among friends, training partners and coach-mentors for its minutiae and detail, recorded in meticulous fashion in an excel spreadsheet. I left San Francisco last Wednesday morning ready to execute the last phase of the plan: the Ironman.

I arrived in Lake Placid at 3am last Thursday morning after a 9 hour weather delay in the delightful Chicago airport. This was not part of the plan.

While I was on the slow track to Lake Placid my luggage was on the *express* and somehow traveled on the flight from which I was bumped. Isn’t that a security risk? Thankfully, my training and travel buddy, Sarah, spotted my wheelie on the carousel and took custody until my arrival much later that night. This was not part of the plan…but better for Sarah to have my luggage than United Airlines.

The *plan* had me waking up 7am on Thursday morning to swim a loop of the course so I could start the adjustment process to East Coast time and get a feel for the water. 4 hours sleep was not part of the plan. Oh well, my years as an investment banking analyst taught me that that sleep deprivation is not cumulative, otherwise I’d be in deficit until retirement, so I figured I would be fine.

I was sharing a sweet condo, half a mile from town, with four other triathletes; three first-timers, Sarah, Steve and Pete, and a two-time Ironman Lake Placid veteran, Katie. I spent the time leading up to race-day, trying to be as mellow as possible. This does not come easy to me but I previewed the course, did short workouts, watched the Tour de France, cooked, ate and tried to figure out what to put into the confusing myriad of plastic bags we’d been given at registration: swim-bike bag, bike-run bag, bike special needs, run special needs. Relaxing, as hard as it is for me, was part of the plan.

The alarm sounded as planned at 3:45am on Sunday morning. I have trained every Sunday for the past 6 months on a breakfast of oatmeal and banana and a bagel with almond butter – the race-day breakfast. For some reason, on Sunday 25th July I could not stomach it and managed to down only half the bagel. In my 33 years, eating has been the one thing I have relied on, at my sickest, I could always eat. Loss of appetite was not part of the plan.

We arrived in transition just after 5am and the next 90 minutes evaporated in a sea of activity, dropping off special needs bags, going to the bathroom, pumping up tires, going to the bathroom, checking my tires, going to the bathroom, slathering myself in Body Glide and squeezing into my wetsuit, going to the bathroom AGAIN. Next thing I know, I hear the strains of the *Star Spangled Banner* while I’m swimming towards the start line. Yikes. How un-American? What about my warm-up swim? I was cutting the start a little close. That was not part of the plan.

The gun sounded at 7am and the throng of 2,000 triathletes all bee-lined for the first yellow buoy. I learned to swim 3 years ago and 2.4 miles was still daunting to me but 4 prior races in 2004 served as great comfort with open water swimming and mass starts. In spite of starting wide back of the 1:10 minute mark, it was at least 1,000m before I could swim with any sort of rhythm. In the scrum of swimmers, a kick to the head scored me a sweet scar above my right eye but it was not a race-ending injury. A mass swim start was an unavoidable but manageable part of the plan. My *sandbagged* swim time was 1:20 with a secret hope of swimming 1:15 and the notion that I had a chance of swimming 1:10 if I pushed it. I swam easy and exited in 1:13, feeling remarkably fresh. My plan was off to a good start.

T1 went smoothly and I rode out of town on the bike with two thoughts front and center in my mind: please let my heart rate settle down as soon as possible… and please don’t let me have a flat tire for the next 112 miles. I was in control of the former, reminding myself of Brent and Franky’s last email words of wisdom: “take the first loop easier than you think”. The first loop was crowded, mainly with guys, and it was hard to ride my pace without having to consider the drafting rules. I’m not used to having people riding the same pace as me in a race…I guess it’s a fast biker-chick thing. I completed the first loop in 2hrs 50mins. I was on track for the planned 5hrs 45min split.

Most notable was how I dropped fellow athletes on the climbs. I spun easily by a lot of guys. Favorable power-to-weight ratio? Were they under-geared? The second loop was uneventful, except for the sight of a New York State trooper holding an athlete’s bike while he relieved himself at the side of the road. Isn’t public urination illegal in New York State? I needed to pee but I didn’t want to stop and I couldn’t bring myself to pee on the bike. At least I was hydrating well - the fluid and nutrition plan was working well.

I arrived in T2 in 407th place after 7 hrs and 4 minutes. I promptly collided into Pete. Yikes, I had almost caught him on the bike! Did he have a bad swim? Had I biked too hard? Had he biked too easy? Had I biked too easy? Who knows except that I felt great and was ready to run…feeling fresh for the run was part of the plan.

After 3 miles I was in a *running no-man’s land*. A combination of a torn hamstring and IT-band syndrome had reduced my run training to 3x 3 miles/week for the past two months. This was an adaptation of the initial 30+miles/week training plan ;). You will not find this plan in any marathon or ironman training schedule but sometimes you just have to work with what you have. I consoled myself with my bike strength and pathetically clung to the ambition of running a 4 hour marathon. Ambitious? Yes, but it was part of the remainder math for the 11 hour plan. Did I mention that plan?

All seemed to be on track during the first loop which I ran very comfortably in 1hr 57mins. However, mile 17 marked the unraveling of the plan. IT band pain in both knees and trocanter bursitis in my right hip kicked in and I was reduced to a shuffle-like run for the last 9 miles. This was unplanned but probably inevitable. I was lucky to have made it 17 miles without debilitating pain. I gritted my teeth, sucked down a Clifshot and chased it with a cup of chicken broth and slowly made it to the finish line, watching helplessly as one 30something after another ran me down. I heard the words “Jordan from San Francisco, you are an Ironman” as the clock showed 11 hours 28 minutes 19 seconds. Fairly respectable for a first time Ironman but 28 minutes short of my 11 hour stretch-finish goal and 4 places short of a Kona slot. There's only so much you can plan for.
Most people would be truly psyched and proud to have conceived and executed such an aggressive plan, and I am… but… that’s what makes me, me… bring on the next race.

What does Ironman mean to you?

my weekend homework... instead of training was to answer the question "what ironman means to you?" i did my *nemesis* ride today so i had plenty of time to think while climbing up pantoll...

10. Self-reflection - there's a lot of time to get to *know* yourself on long rides and runs
9. $9,862 and change - money spent on triathlon since I signed up for Lake Placid last July.
8. Watching the N'Sync E! True Hollywood Story because I'm too brain-dead after a long session to handle anything more cerebral
7. Multi-sheet excel spreadsheet - to record the minutiae of my training swims, rides, runs...as well as *social* obligations so I can claim some balance in my life
6. Thinking that a 6:30am swim at Aquatic Park is a good idea.
5. Bovine Bakery chocolate peanut butter blondies (I've been known to fight Hauth over the last one)
4. Self-absorption - never before have I been so obsessed about what I eat, how I train, how much I sleep...
3. Yelling out "on your left" - I have yet to be passed on the bike this year...slow swimming is the major contributor to this statistic.
2. Friends, friends, friends...most of whom let me *suck their wheel* :)
1. Raising money for spinal cord injury research in honor of my friend David Carmel - you'll hear a lot more on this soon!

i could go on...a calendar of sunrises over the golden gate bridge...a deteriorating career...enough swim caps to make a *plastic quilt*... but i'm more intrigued by how people who've done tons of races answer the question...

Alcatraz 2004

Okay, it's usually Sandy *nagging* me for a race report but this time it was my *mum* that wanted the story of Alcatraz. As the dutiful, distant daughter that I am, here goes... it was an uneventful race so this will be short and uninteresting...

Saturday June 5th - pre-race preparation
A 2 hour ride followed by a 20 minute run, followed by a 5 hour round-trip drive to Carmel River Valley for Karen and Jamie's wedding (Stanford classmates/housemates). The usual pre-race nutrition rules were out the window after my first sip of the Guava juice and champagne cocktails... thankfully the return drive home limited my intake to just one of these sugary sweet drinks. Sea bass is not my usual pre-race dinner either but what was I going to do? Hmmm, didn't Pete take a bowl of home-made pasta to a wedding last year? No. I was not going to bring out a tupperware bowl of my own home-made food at dinner table 10... Yummy sea bass.

Sunday June 6th - race morning
The alarm went off at 5am and I was not ready to wake up. I hit snooze and started an internal debate about blowing off the Alcatraz race and racing the San Jose Triathlon next Sunday instead. This is the downside of doing a local race where you get to sleep in your own bed the night before. The internal debate continued until 5:30am when breakfast seemed like a reasonable idea. A bowl of oatmeal later and my spirits were improving and I found myself putting air into the tires of my bike. I guess I should do this race? What else am I going to do this morning? Go back to bed? Ride a century? Swim long? Complete the valuation for the pitch to a Texas software company I have to give on Monday? Alcatraz it is!

I ride the one mile downhill to Marina Green, set up transition and board the bus to Pier X to catch the boat. At the pier I seem to bump into every Californian triathlete I know and have ever met. It's self-service body-marking (which is not easy) so a guy approaches and asks a friend and I if we can *mark him up*. His race number is a suspiciously low 6 and I recognize him as pro-triathlete Cam Widoff. We get into a debate about whether he should have "X" or "P" on his calf instead of his age, so I think we gave him an "XP", just to be sure. Haha.

The big change from last year was for all athletes to board a single boat out to the island. Tricalifornia (event organizer) had rented a faux-paddle steamer that from all appearances usually doubled as a floating casino. Rather surreal to be on a mirror and chandelier-interiored *paddle-steamer* among a nervous gaggle of rubber-suited athletes. My life is weird.

The gun goes off at 8am, I jump into the balmy Bay waters and start swimming slowly towards shore. Mercifully, the 6 knot current is carrying me to shore even faster than I swim and I hit dry land after 28 minutes...200 yards short of where I was supposed to beach but everyone else seems to have "washed up in the same place" and is running along the shoreline to T0.5. I discard the wetsuit and run the half mile to T1 to hop on my bike for the uphill/downhill course. Ride went well... the only wrinkle being that I failed to tighten up the clip-on aerobars so they had a tendency to *move* if I put too much weight on them. Oops! Lots of spectators out on the course, including a very rowdy bunch of my Areté team-mates at the Legion of Honor. Areté, baby!

Just over 56 minutes later and I was back at T2, preparing for the 8 mile run. I set out and instantly felt the tightness in my IT band. I was moving slowly and I was being passed by everyone. Quit? Yes? No? This remained the story of the run until the sand ladder. This was the last place I expected to pass anyone but folks seemed to have run out of energy. I caught a girl that had passed me earlier in the run so this spurred me on to a significantly faster run than the first half had set me up for... negative-split runs seem to be the story of my races this year.

I crossed the finish line in 2hrs 40mins 30s, a 35 minute improvement over last year's time, barely scraping me into the top ten for my age group.

Sorry... I guess it was long and uninteresting... next race is Lake Placid...

JC

Alcatraz Triathlon - course advice

Which bike? I rode the Trek without aero bars because I was too lazy to put them on... in fact I wasn't even sure if I would actually do anything but the swim since I had a cold/flu. Of course, I took all my gear to transition just in case I felt like riding/running... seeing my bike I figured what the hell, I could ride 18 miles at an easy pace... same decision process at T2... you get the picture... This year I will ride the Trek (w/ bars!) as it seems to make most sense for the course/hills. It's either uphill or downhill with only a couple of flat stretches. I reckon if you did a poll of the pro field you might get a 50/50 response on road vs. tri-bike set-up. I guess it depends if you're equally comfortable on both bikes. I tend to think I'm a stronger climber on the Trek, and the bike is lighter. I actually brought up the question with Chris last weekend and he advised the Trek without hesitation... hopefully you'll have the Seven by then?

As for the course... my course commentary sucks... I wish Bailey had written up Alcatraz... would be far more colorful... plus I have a crappy memory... but here goes.

Swim - there's a *mandatory* meeting the day before to disseminate information on the currents/sighting etc for the swim. I think you have less to worry about than me because I assume you'll just be following a lead kayak? They leave the amatuers to flail along at their own sweet pace. Don't forget the 3/4mile run from Crissy Field back to T1 at Marina Green... best to throw on a pair of sneakers for this so bring two pairs.

Bike - I'll add a few personal notes to GGTC course description - link below. It's an out & back course and it's basically uphill or downhill the entire way. Plus the roads are pretty bad/potholed! 18 miles with approx. 1900ft of climbing. The first mile or so out of transition is flat but then it's uphill or downhill until you reach the Great Highway at mile 6 or so. Gradient-wise, some of these inclines are 8% and above. Beware the hard right at mile 5. You transition from a sharp downhill to a sharp(ish) incline so if you're not careful it could get ugly - dropping a chain would be the big rookie mistake here. Big downhills with turns until you hit a short flat section along the Great Highway. Then you turn into Golden Gate Park and hit the moderate *rollers* of the park. This is a moderate recovery section of the course (though it's short so I'm not sure you get to recover at any point...). After the park you retrace your pedal strokes back along the Geat Highway and climb back past the Cliff House. I'm guessing the grade averages 7-8% and flattens out briefly as you turn left onto Camino del Mar and make the right onto Clement St which is very short but probably 15%+ grade. The climb back up to the Legion of Honor (past the golf course) is ~4-5%. Turn right at the Legion and it's downhill until mile 14 when you have another ~0.75 mile climb (~6%) to the top of Baker Beach. After that, it's downhill or flat all the way back to T2. I'll ride it in the next week or so, and if something springs to mind, I will let you know. You should definitely drive/ride the course on Friday/Saturday before the race because there are lots of twists and turns.

http://ggtc.org/alcatraz_bike.php

Run - Almost an out & back course. Long flat stretch out of transition. Mix of tarmac then packed dirt through Crissy Field. Must be 1.5 miles before hitting the stairs/very steep dirt section which leads you to the coastal trail. The steep section is short, 1/4 mile or so before levelling out (slight uphill) until you reach the GGB and are on the Coastal Trail. This is narrow (will make more of a difference for you on the return than on the way out!) and includes a short flight of wooden steps (~10-12 steps). Basically flat for ~ 1 mile until you reach the top of Baker Beach and then big downhill (the hill you just biked) to the beach. Run out and back along the sand for about 3/4 of a mile. This gets you to the famed *sand ladder*. You've seen it on TV, right? Basically two steps foward, one step back for 0.5mile. Most people walk the steepest section. Use the ropes. At the top, you'll retrace your steps back to Marina Green. ~0.25mile uphill to get you back onto the trail part, after which it will be downhill and then the flat 1.5mile Crissy Field section back to the finishing chute

There is No Easy Way by Chris Hauth

Here I go again. Traveling this past week has afforded me the opportunity to read, write a lot of notes and then of course gather these different inputs and combine them into some sort of squabble that might benefit all of us. I know it goes deep at times and thank you for enduring my rambling. BUT - It was also interesting that while I was reading two books (J. Krishnamurti, Think of These Things & The Perfect Mile by N. Bascomb) it seems some of you have been getting restless - both these books addressed some of the simple facts you are getting too analytical about in your training and racing. While it is that time of year where we start thinking more about our races and analyze our 'feeling', there are some Truths that we seem to accept more when races are far off on the horizon. Why is it that we start taking all our inputs, from heart rate to eating habits and break them into fragmented pieces that are supposed to tell us something - show us we are improving, give us a pat on the back and let us know we are strong, healthy and fit? Why do we not think of these data points in the fall or the off-season? Why do we need validation as we get closer to race day?

Because we fear the simplicity of this entire process. Some of you have heard me say in the past weeks "this is all so simple, so easy". Not easy in effort but easy in how this process works. Most of you then shake your heads and figure 'that's easy for him to say' or 'he is soo full of himself'. Well, I have written this comment before and it exemplifies the ultimate Truth to me and how simple it all is:

There is no easy way -- there are consequences to every action, if you define sport in terms of process, then the fact that the path is difficult is the whole point! All athletes have assets and liabilities -- the only path to true satisfaction is by striving to achieve 100% of our own personal potential. Whether we achieve anything in life is 100% our doing -- no coach can create success, the athlete is responsible.

There is no easy way -- I love that sentence. If it were easy, why do it? The reason most of you enjoy this endurance sport is because of the challenge of it as well as the lifestyle of being fit and on an almost permanent fitness 'high' - knowing one can go out and ride any mountain or a 100+ miles is a great feeling. But is is not easy, nor is it supposed to be. Life provides us with a natural filter, those that want to sacrifice and suffer for this privilege of fitness and those that don't. It is that simple: suffer and sacrifice gives us a reward.

There is no easy way -- Why do we look for a magic formula? Why do we question our training, our inputs, our results, our data points? Why do we wonder about strength vs. power, how one person is faster than someone else, why too hard is so disheartening and too easy is just not the right feeling? There is only one way - to just do it. It might seem boring, but it is that simple. Go out and consistently work the miles.

There is no easy way -- We all have our motivations, our reasons. These don't have to be crypto-religious reasons - for most of you it should be this simple: to cover ground fast. Not only to better than the next competitor, but better than yourself...That is the true simple nature of what this sport is - a challenge to cover ground faster than you did previously. While training is for many of us is a rite of purification, that feeling of it being a lifestyle because it feels so good, from it comes speed and strength. But training also needs to simulate racing - and racing is a rite of death; from it comes knowledge (Krishnanurti). While this sounds intense, this rite demands a certain amount of time spent precisely on the Red Line - where you are riding the edge and there is nothing but hurt, suffering and pain on the other side. It is a knowledge of this experience that will prepare us better for that race day. It is not easy to train/race on this Edge - but then again, if we can spend a significant time on it...well, you know that answer.

There is no easy way -- We all make our sacrifices but we also need to keep it simple. We are all athletes (and some of you really are!) with an absurdly difficult task. This daily toil is arduous; satisfying on the whole, but not the bounding, joyous, happy-day nature romp we read in magazines. We listen carefully (??!!) to our bodies and heed strange requests. We all know what the mystic-athletes, the joggers, the water-cooler triathletes and others of their ilk say. But we also know that their euphoric selves are generally nowhere to be seen on dark, rainy mornings - especially not on the early weekends. They primarily want to talk it, not do it.... Simple: the true athlete trains even when he does not feel like it, races when supposed to, without excuses and with nothing held back. One does not question strength and power, heart rate and zones - they just go out and do the miles, do the work, put their head down and remain within the process - there are consequences to every action - if done honorably and consistently those consequences are positive result in our own personal definition of positive.

And the simple Truth -- We all have to go out and do it. As Roger Bannister said (um 50 years ago yesterday) the Trial of Miles, Miles of Trials. The true competitive athlete, simmering in our own existential juices, we endure our melancholia the only way we know how: gently , together with those few others who endure/understand with us; yet sometimes very much alone. We have to do it. Just get through it with all we know how. Trial of Miles - they do add up, the hours of work, the cold, simple fact that our toil will result in a better race - but not guaranteed. Miles of Trials - there are ups and downs, days where things all fall into place and days where it is impossible to get our of bed or climb that hill fast, or work that interval as hard as you should, or h-a-n-g on to that wheel. Days where it all seems to fall apart and we see the lady in the lake or the wheel in front of us fade over the hill in front of us. You just gotta do it - it's that simple. There is no magic formula, there is no easy way...

And finally - take this tidbit of information from the book I just finished with you: The main point/difference in Krishnanurti's book is that he doesn't espouse any particular path, belief system or other dogma. His view is that there is a universal truth within us all - we simply need to quiet our mind for this truth to become apparent..... He also talks quite a bit about the only real truth being what we experience for ourselves and that it is not possible to follow anything, anyone, any creed to a truth... truth is a pathless land... get it? Simply put - there is no easy way, just our own.....

Word.

Chris

Saturday 1 May - Wildflower Long Course Triathlon

Calories - 1,000 during race, at least 3,000 post-race and let's not begin to count Sunday's ice-cream *treats* ; Alcohol units - 4 (two red wine and 1 *buttery nipple*) all post-race; Negative thoughts during the run - gazillion, if people heard my self-talk, I'd be committed to a mental institution; High temperature in Lockwood- 93F Event - 1.2mi swim, 55mi bike, 13.1mi run

7:50am - National Anthem singer is a *no-show*. Sing-a-long to an instrumental version... if only I knew the words... I'm clearly not yet ready for my citizenship test.
8:00am - Official start time of men's pro wave but the athletes are having trouble grasping the concept of the start line being on the concrete ramp rather than in the water.
8:02am - Close-up view of the men's start... more white-water that a Class V rapid! 9:17am - Wave 16, i.e. women's 30-34 gets underway... Lake San Antonio is balmy. Didn't even flinch when the water hit the bottom of the wetsuit zipper.
9:54am - Hurrah! Out of the water. Look at watch. 37minutes. Oh, no! But I can swim 2200yds in 32minutes in the pool! Why so slow?
10:04am - Riding 10% grades of Beach Hill, *Egg Beaters* passes me. Note to self that I'll be seeing her again. I feel icky, my quads are sore. Remind myself it's only mile 3.
11:18am - Somewhere along Jolon Road. Finally warmed up. Need to begin working the flatsthough I'm feeling nauseous? Clif bars are not very appealing right now but must eat! What to do?
11:23am - Pass Megan who yells that there are about a dozen W30-34 ahead of me. No
idea how she's keeping count because *body markings* seemed to have washed off in the lake but am cheered slightly by the fact that I'm moving through the field. Eat some Clif Bar. Hope I can keep it down.
12:07pm - Middle of the friggin' day and I'm climbing shadeless Nasty Grade... Bugger! But I'm riding the Trek and I have a 12-27 rear cassette. How hard can it be?
12:09pm - "Jordan Cantwell". Who's calling me? Turn head to look around.
Brian Finlay: "There are five W30-34 ahead of you, I've been keeping count
for you. Good luck".
12:15pm - Pass *Egg Beaters girl*... Told you so! But she's 26...
12:25pm - "Phipp, phipp, phipp..." What's that noise? Darn... rode over someone's helmet sticker and it is plastered on my front wheel.
12:26pm - "Phipp, phipp, phipp..." Dismount and carefully unpeel the sticker, which then sticks to my fingers. Unpeel sticker from fingers.
12:27pm - Remount.
12:49pm - Cruise into T2. Rack bike. Discover bag of gummy worms is now one single, molten jelly snake. Abandon the candy idea. Leave T2 with water bottle and Clif shots.
1:01pm - Mile 1 of the run. No women in sight... just guys. But everyone is walking? Why? It's *swim, bike, run* not *swim, bike, death march*. C'mon people.
1:19pm - Olympic Club cheering posse. Flanny hands me a capful of ice which I place into my cap. Is that an illegal assist? Never mind. Have not seen a course marshall all day.
1:21pm - Mile 3. I'm running 10 minute miles. This is not good... but I'm the only one running. That's good isn't it? Why won't the guys start running?
1:33pm - Naked water stop... naked girl with *freshman twenty* and *brazilian bikini
wax* tries to high 5 me. Eeuww.
1:45pm - Steep section of trail... now I'm walking and it feels good. I can walk all 13 miles can't I? Remind myself that I can't walk at Lake Placid so pick up the pace barely.
1:56pm - Mile 6. I'm running 11-12min/miles. This is terrible. Girl runs by me. She's
42...phew, not my age-group, but I'm being run down by 42 year olds! Develop new *aid station protocol* - cup of water on head, 3 gulps of Gatorade, cup of water with Clif shot. Feel much better. 2:12pm - Back in campground. Crowds cheering because I'm the only girl in sight. Somehow I've revived and I'm running 7min 30s pace. This is good! Where did it come from? GGTC and SFTri clubs start yelling my name. I'm moving! Yay!
2:20pm - Cruise by KKS cheering posse... Lots of noise. Hear Pete's voice call "Go JC" but am focused and continue running at this new-found pace.
2:36pm - Running uphill out of *the Pit* and see 32 year old girl ahead of me. I pass her but she picks up the pace and stays on my shoulder. "Just keep running your pace, Jordan."
2:37pm - 32 year old is breathing heavily and *drops off the back*. Pass JPM colleague, Seth Miller. Smile to self.
2:42pm - Steep run down Lynch Hill. I'm flying downhill and grimacing from the pain as the newly-formed blisters on the balls of my feet are being punctured. Ouch!
2:49pm - Cross finish line in 5hrs 35min 46s

Good enough for 5th place in my age-group, which at Wildflower merits a place on the podium. Even better news is that Natalie took 1st place in our age-group!

Jordan

Ralphs race report

Since Sandy wanted more detail than was included in my earlier top ten...

Saturday morning, we strided into the water... a balmy 63F with a slight chop as you got closer to the harbor exit. The gun went off and I thought I was moving pretty well. I was almost at the buoy that I thought was the turnaround just as a bunch of M40-44 guys caught me on the swim. I caught a bit of the draft, made the turn and started heading for home, only to be stopped in my tracks by a kayaker... we had turned too early. Ack! I raised my head and saw that there was another buoy. I backtracked and continued around the buoy and then set off back to the jetty. As I exited the water I saw 38+mins on my watch. How the f@#$! did that happen? I thought my swim was improving? How could I be so slow?

Oh well, at least I was back on dry land... and feeling fresh. Thankfully, for the next 2.5+ hours or so, it would be *all about the bike*. Never having seen or ridden the course, I was flying blind but a detailed course description on the "gordo forum" last week plus advice from Brent to *save a little bit* for the second half of the bike, was front and center in my mind. I spun easy for the first 10 or so miles, let my heart rate settle and my legs warm up. I was in wave 16 of 19 and the last female wave, so the course was BUSY by the time I got on the bike. It made for some very frustrating moments during the first 20 miles since the course included narrow stretches along bike paths. About 5 guys passed me from the M40-44 age group but for the most part I was sitting out on the left into a swirling headwind/tailwind (I couldn't keep track - seemed like the wind came from every direction), overtaking a constant stream of cyclists on my right. Thankfully, I've done enough races to know to holler *on your left* well in advance. As I zipped by, I was encouraged to receive compliments on my bike pace from fellow athletes, male and female, as well as cheers from the marines that were marshalling the course.

Mile 30 or so is where the hills begin.... I was just warming up. The first hill has a decent pitch (8-9% - think Nasty Grade) but is short at about 0.5miles. A few folks were weaving back and forth on the hill (they must have thought it was L'Angliru) so it made for some tricky navigation. I switched into 39-23, got out of the saddle and *jack rabbited* past them, conscientiously keeping my breathing steady. The next two hills came up about 5 miles after the first... both seemed longer but the grade was shallower (5-6%) so I climbed both hills seated, focusing on my form. Pretty sweet to see guys freak out when they see how fast and easy I was climbing! Mack & Michael, all that big gear work paid dividends!

The final 15 miles or so seemed flat to rolling but the headwinds required some consistent effort. At one point I passed a guy (wearing red, maybe Phoenix tri club?) who then came up on my left and told me to *get on his wheel*. What a jackass? I told him to get out of my way and leave me alone (more eloquently than that of course ;-)). I wish I had noted his number. A couple of other athletes saw the incident and assured me that the guy was being a *dick* and not to worry. I was pretty freaked out but put my head down and cruised back to T2, feeling strong and ready to run.

The run is a flat two loop course on concrete along the oceanfront and residential side streets of the town. I jogged out of transition and almost collided with François Chabaud (male winner) who was wandering around near the medical tent. That would not have been cool. I headed past the crowds on my first loop, to the sound of Chris Hauth yelling *go get 'em, Jordan*. I also passed Brent, making his final turn for the finishing straight. I couldn't believe he'd finished already and I still had 13 miles to go! My legs had the usual heaviness but they began to loosen up after a mile or so. I didn't feel great but I reminded myself that *it wouldn't get any better so just deal with it*. That insight will be key for Lake Placid. Hahaha. No major incidents on the run, except almost choking after taking a swig of coke at mile 11. I felt that I kept a steady pace though I forgot to make a note of my splits for the two loops so it's hard to say whether I slowed down. I was more focused on my breathing and heart rate than I was on my pace. I ran a 1hr 44min half-marathon... my fastest ever in a triathlon and only 3 minutes slower than my fastest half-marathon so I was pleased with my result, given my inconsistent running over the past 12 months. The best news is that, while I'm sore from the race (running on concrete), my hamstring and knee did not cause any problems. Yeah!

10 reasons it might not be wise to ride in the rain...

10. You still have not changed out the racing slicks on your bike so your tires have zero grip with the slightest bit of moisture on the road
9. Reduced visibility means that the dump trucks on Polk Street don't see you on their inside
8. Your niterider headlamp is not as waterproof as the packaging would claim
7. You don't have any wet lube
6. Your "pac-a-mac" clear plastic rain jacket resembles your 80 year old Grandmother's raincoat... (not that cycling is a sport with high-fashion stakes)
5. You detached the visor from your Pneumo helmet so you can't shield your eyes from the dirt and rain
4. You haven't had a bike with mudguards since grade school
3. You have yet to master wiping debris from the back tire without wiping out (and have the scars to prove it)
2. A rainy day is a great excuse to check out the indoors spin class your friend has been raving about
1. Hell, you live in California so what's ONE skipped workout in an entire season!

However, passing on a ride in gnarly conditions reminds me of an excerpt from the "Road to Paris", the documentary about the USPS team's preparation for TdF '01. One scene includes a training session/reconnaissance ride in the Alps in mid-February (maybe the Col du Galibier). It's late in the day, it's cold and the team is tired from doing hill repeats to exhaustion. Then it starts to snow. The team descends to the bottom of the hill where the support vehicles are waiting, the shivering riders clamber into the van and start wrapping themselves in blankets. Except, that is, Lance Armstrong. He calls over to Johann Bruyneel (USPS directeur sportif) and says he wants to check out the hill one more time. Bruyneel turns to the camera grinning and says in his thick Belgian accent: "Zeez is what nobody seez. Zeez is why he is great cyclist. Zeez is why he'll be champion again."