Honu Half-Ironman

I think it was Steve Prefontaine that said "the person that wins is the one that has the most guts".. Not that I won anything this weekend (that honor goes to my coach, Chris Hauth, who won the race overall), or that I can even begin to compare myself to the legendary US track star, but that quote sprung to mind as this past Sunday's race will go down as my gutsiest race performance to date. And, unfortunately, I mean that very literally… Here are a few vignettes from the weekend.

Tuesday before the race was a really long day, taking the 6am flight from SFO to SNA for a daytrip to a client in Orange County. While waiting for the delayed last flight at OC airport, I chatted with a woman who turned out to live a few blocks from me in San Francisco.
"I can give you a ride back from the airport", I offered.
"That's great. I checked a couple of pieces of bags but they're not big", she replied.
I know my face fell at the thought of waiting at the luggage carousel for her bags rather than my usual sprint through the airport to my car but I wasn't going to revoke the offer. I got to bed at 1am, four hours later than my usual 9pm bedtime, but I figured that I'd stockpiled a little good karma for the week…

Friday was travel day and I awoke just prior to my 6am alarm. I immediately noticed the tenderness of my neck as I swallowed. I rose slowly from my bed and became aware of the *stuffiness* of my left nostril. "Ugh…I'm getting sick", I thought to myself, as I downed a double dose of Emergen-C, loaded up on echinacea and threw back a couple of Advil. Friend, training buddy and doctor, Kiki, offered me some email medical advice: "Take some Sudafed to help clear the congestion but stop taking it 24 hours before Sunday's race because the active ingredient, pseudoephedrine, acts like adrenalin and will *rev* your heart even more in extreme activity."

Race day and I was pacing our Hawaiian condo at 4:45am, ready to leave and make the 45 minute drive to the race start.
"Sandy, where are the car keys, I'm going to load my bike into the mini-van", I said. "I left them on the counter-top last night but they're not here."
"I don't know," Sandy called back, "I didn't touch them".
My personal prime suspects in "the case of the missing keys" were my condo-mates, Greg Spradling or Chris Hauth. I think guys are more prone to putting keys in their pockets and wandering off with them… call me sexist. A 15 minute *all hands on deck* search of the condo failed to turn up the missing keys. I was fuming inside and panicking that I would miss the race start but I kept my cool. Barely.

Halfway around the swim course I closed in on buoy number three:
"Boomph!"
"What the f&@#?"
I had sustained a kick to the head from some chick in pink. My left leg went numb and then began to cramp. I relaxed, flexed my ankle a few times, the cramp subsided and I resumed my swim rhythm. Sustaining a kick or two to the head no longer seems to bother me while swimming…

During the initial 10 miles of the bike leg along Big Island's "Queen K" highway, I traded places back and forth with a 59 year old woman as I desperately tried to find my rhythm.
"Okay, I think I'm mis-reading, if she passes me again I'll see that it really says 39 or perhaps 29…", I said to myself.
No, she passed me again, 59 was clearly *sharpie'd* on her right calf. You're still warming up, I said to encourage myself.

The congestion in my nose and chest was still there, as was the occasional cough, but in a race no-one really minds if you give a big *farmer blow* or spit, just as long as you check behind you beforehand. I know, it's not particulalry sanitary but there are worse things... At about mile 20 or so we reached the base of a steady 10 mile climb towards the town of Hawi. I'd been eating and drinking, per my race plan, but I had overwhelming feelings of nausea. "Hmmm, it must be the sun and 90 degree heat affecting me", I thought to myself, while projectiling vomit into the roadside brush. The rest of the climb I felt tremendously weak and I struggled to push 200 watts – I kept staring at my power meter in disbelief. I felt so weak. It didn't help that the entire climb was into a strong headwind (apparently light by island standards).

With 10 miles to go on the bike, the white Astro van of my *support crew* zipped by me. My team-mate Sandy and Chris' fiancée, Dixie, were all cheers and smiles, hanging out of the open van door, taking pictures. I just shook my head.
"Dig deeper", yelled Sandy.
"Stop the van! I want to get in," I called back. The van continued on. They didn't hear me…

Every triathlon I've raced has hinged on a great bike split…but I was riding abysmally and I felt like sh#t. I was beginning to get shivery goosebumps. A DNF seemed the sensible thing to do but as I contemplated the letters D-N-F (Did Not Finish) I recalled Hilary Biscay's words: "the only good reason to DNF is if you have a broken leg". Nothing broken. I made the final right hand turn into the Mauna Lani resort, the site of the bike-run transition, and checked my time. "Holy cow, I'm having a bad day but I've still ridden a 2:45 bike split. That's not quite as bad as I thought". I took a last sip of Gatorade, dismounted my bike and handed it off to a volunteer. I should do the run…maybe everyone else is having a bad day?

I grabbed my run gear but took my time putting my shoes on, still toying with the concept of DNF. I headed out of T2 and instantly recalled Chris' race advice to me: "Commit on mile 1. I don't want to hear that you felt sluggish for the first couple of miles of the run and then felt great by mile 7. Just go and get it from the start!"

"Where are the goddamn mile markers?", I said to myself after running for a good twenty minutes. At least the *out and back legs* of the run course on the Mauna Lani resort and golf course afforded me views of the competition. I quickly spied #720, probably about a mile ahead of me. I saw a lot of women ahead of me but #720 was the only person I recognized from my age-group.

As I hit the 10k mark I heard the announcer welcoming home the overall race winner, Chris Hauth. That news gave me a mental boost. I recalled his *fast feet* mantra and it encouraged me to pick up the pace.

I saw the 15k mark as I made a left turn into what I hoped was the last out and back…a long descent into a headwind. Running downhill has never been so hard! A guy came up to my right shoulder about to pass me and I immediately tucked in behind him, seeking to draft. Sweet! I followed for several hundred yards until I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach. Yikes…I need to go to the bathroom. NOW! I was at least half a mile from an aid station but I looked left and decided the Hawaiian brush would provide sufficient cover. A girl's gotta do…

I crossed the finish line in 5 hours 23 minutes and change. I felt awful, my guts were in knots and I was worried that I was about to start hyperventilating. I was miserable and disappointed with the day. On the way back from my third post-race porta pottie trip I spied Chris and went over and congratulated him on the win. Dixie sensed that I was not doing so well and gave me a big hug. I promptly burst into tears.

An hour or so after finishing, having changed into dry clothes and watched other friends cross the finish line I decided to stop by and check the results sheet. I figured I'd be lucky to have made top ten in my age-group. I found my name.
"Jordan Cantwell San Francisco CA 34 2/50 36:11 2:46…"
I only made it halfway across the line and had to stop. The "2/50" caught my eye. My heart started beating fast and I found myself repeating "oh my god" over and over again like some teenage drama queen. "I had taken second place in my age-group? No way! Did everyone else really fold?"
I scanned the results sheets and saw that #720 had placed first, well ahead of me time-wise, but no other 30-34 year olds had finished ahead of me. Yikes!

The awards ceremony took place late Sunday afternoon and our raucous San Francisco crew occupied three tables, front and center, ready to cheer along Chris for winning the overall title, Monique for winning her age-group and placing fourth among the women and for my age group second place. There was also the small matter of "Qualifying slots for the Hawaii Ironman Triathlon World Championships". As the age-group awards began, the MC announced that each female age-group would have one qualifying slot. For the Women's 30-34 age group I got up on stage to collect my turtle-shaped 2nd place trophy. #720 took her 1st place award and eagerly accepted the Hawaii slot. I was about to walk off stage.
"Wait a moment", the MC said. "I almost forgot. As the biggest age group, we have two Hawaii slots in W30-34. Jordan, do you want the slot?"
"Hell yes!", I said repeating #720's enthusiasm. I was excited but also deafened by Sandy's squeal and the cheers from the SF posse who rose from their seats! The awards ceremony only got better as my friends and training buddies, Scott Withoff and Dirk Vlieks also got Hawaii slots.

I'm still in shock that I qualified for Hawaii. I'll be the first to admit that it was far from my best race but I gutted it out and stayed in the race when the mental and physical cues were signaling me to quit. I had somehow imagined that qualifying for Hawaii would only happen if and when I executed the perfect race. How quaint and idealistic of me! Things never quite turn out how you expect.

Thanks to Chris Hauth for his coaching advice, support and friendship…and for *walking the walk*. Congratulations again on the overall win!
Thanks to Dixie, Sandy, Greg and Katie for their on-course support and cheers… and for not letting me in the van!
Thanks to everyone that swims, bikes and runs with me in the bay area. I can't begin to name you since I'll accidentally forget someone and then feel awful. You know who you are. As much as triathlon is an individual sport, swimming on someone's feet, following someone's wheel and running on someone's shoulder is invaluable.

Now I need to start training for Ironman Hawaii - October 15th 2005.
(again, for the non-triathletes - 2.4mi swim, 112mi bike and 26.2mi run)

Thanks,
Jordan

PS - On the way back to the car with Sandy, post-awards, my giddiness finally subsided and my pragmatic nature returned.
"I hope we can find the keys to the rental car. I can't imagine where they are. I turned my luggage inside out this morning."
Sandy looked at me sheepishly, digging into her backpack and pulling out the Ford Winstar keys: "Ooops. I guess I did take them last night after all."

Sex and The City, SF-style

Monday March 28th - "The Bachelor pre-show party" preview
At a birthday party for thirtysomething Clorox exec, Jennifer, the girls convene to update one another on the many comings and goings of their *non-sex* lives. Stacey took the advice of dating guru to single women globally, Greg Cavallo, and we eagerly anticipate the results. Frustrated by the *miSS-timings* of recent crushes, Jeff and Tom, Sarah recently eschewed her demure public persona, accepting a high-profile lap dance from a young GSB'er at Marina standby, ESW. Jamie offers her style tips and cuisine advice to restaurant-challenged, Jen, who is seeking the perfect ambience to wow and entertain out-of-town boyfriend, Matt C. Jordan bemoans the six day lapse since her *hot* date with Rigney, finally acknowledging that 144 hours *time gap* is well outside all male, female, written and unwritten rules.

Arrested in Tiburon?!?

So I made it back to the US today. 75 degrees and sunny in SF so I went on a brief run then accepted Pete's invite to ride Paradise loop. All was well, felt great, went through a light that was going from amber to red. A police car chased me down and *threw the book* at me. Running a stop sign (which I contested - he was having none of that!) And not carrying an ID (driver's license or passport). He was ready to cuff me and throw me into jail until Pete intervened to vouch on my behalf. What a welcome back! The cop finally warmed up and gave me a mere $250 ticket. Nice. Why is this my life?

Ironman NZ race recap

Where to start?

First of all, thanks to everyone for their well wishes in advance of the race. It was really helpful to know that you were all supporting from afar and watching online.

Results? 11 hours 23 minutes.
7th in my age group, 21st overall woman and 305th of 1175 that started the race.

The swim course is a single loop that hugs the coastline for 1800m, has an 80m turnaround and then returns to shore. With just under 1200 starters, there were some crowds in the first 500m or so but it cleared out pretty quickly. Good and bad. No feet to kick me in the head but no feet to draft off easily. For some reason my goggles were taking in water so I think I stopped 6-7 times to adjust them. I felt like I was in the water forever, so I was pleasantly surprised to see 1:11 on my watch, several minutes faster than IMLP.

I walk-jogged the 500m to T1 which turned out to be a very crowded change tent. It was up to me to find a spot to disrobe the wetsuit and throw on my bike gear.

Then onto the bike - my favorite leg. The bike leg is two loops of flat, false flat and rolling terrain. The first loop was crowded with lots of back and forth with other athletes. I have a power meter on my bike so I just watched the watts, compared it to my heart rate and to how I felt and tried to block out what else was going on around me. First lap completed in 2:47 averaging 200 watts. By the second lap the *crowds* had thinned out dramatically. I rode the first lap conservatively and, feeling warmed up, the second lap was the time to pick up the pace or at least the effort level! The winds were steadily getting stronger as the morning wore on and that left the final 30k of the bike heading uphill into a headwind. I completed the second lap in 2:55 for a bike split of 5:42. However, I averaged 215 watts so the headwind certainly made its presence felt.

Back at T2 and the change tent was a completely different picture than T1. I had the place to myself! Four volunteers attending to my every need, applying sunscreen, putting on my cap etc. Then I headed out onto the run...or perhaps shuffle would be a better description of my run style at this point. I found no rhythm for the first 15k. I ate a gel, drank water, grabbed a handful of chips (salt) but nothing could get me moving. Then I decided to risk drinking a little coke.
I haven't trained with it but I drink at least a can of diet coke a day so I figured it couldn't hurt me. The coke turned out to be the endurance athlete's elixir. I was completely re-energized and stepped up the pace dramatically. Going from 6+ minutes per km to 5mins or so. Not world class marathon pace but it looked more like a run than a walk. I just wish the aid stations were closer together (every 2.5km) so I could have swigged down more of the stuff! I slowed towards the end of the marathon but by my clock I did manage to negative split the run and finish the marathon in 4:18.

That's pretty much my race story. The day was warm and sunny, the winds
were ever-present and the crowds were plentiful and highly supportive.

Afterwards, in the massage/food tent I was sitting next to Bjorn Anderssen, last year's 3rd place athlete. In my fatigued state I remarked: "how do you do this for a living?" To which he quickly retorted: "it's only a living if you win money." He'd had a tough time on the marathon but showed his guts to stick it out, walking to the finish line with fellow Swede and last year's 2nd place guy, Clas Bjorling, to hUGe applause from the crowds.

Kia Ora - Kiwi travel nightmares!

I took Friday off work (except a breakfast meeting) so I could finish packing my bike and run through my laminated version of *ye olde triathlon pack list* at least twenty times. Super Shuttle arrived slightly early at 4:10pm (7:30pm flight) but I was all set to go so it was no big deal. The other passengers in the van were anxious about the voluminous Friday night traffic so I told the driver that I could be dropped off last. We pulled into the SFO international terminal at 5pm. Plenty of time. I joined the Air NZ line to check in and it was quickly my turn. I was asked for my ticket.
"Ticket? Isn't it an electronic ticket? I used United miles."
"Ma'am, you were mailed a ticket."
"Well, I did receive a receipt in the mail but then I changed the dates and I never received a new ticket."
"You need to go check with the United counter. Please do so and then come back to us".
Thankfully, she allowed me to leave my luggage. The United counter was close by and there were only two people ahead of me in line. It was now 5:20pm. Suddenly, a herd of folks rushed into the terminal, pushed to the front of the line and breathlessly squawked about the 6pm flight to Sydney. The two agents dropped everything they were doing for the customers in line and assisted the Aussies, ticketing and checking their baggage. At 5:35pm I moved to the front of the line, explaining my situation to the first agent.
"Ma,am, you need to pay taxes - $17.24."
Uh, oh I thought I'd paid taxes online but maybe it was a booking fee. No big deal. I handed over my credit card. The agent swiped the card, tapped at the keyboard and gave me a perplexed look. She asked for a phone number from her co-worker and dialled the united help desk. "The customer needs a paper ticket", was the helpline response. "The only other alternative is to buy another ticket". The agent called over her co-worker, explained the situation and he concurred with the helpline feedback. He also pointed out, somewhat unhelpfullly, that there were seats on the flight and I could buy a new ticket for five grand! Of course there are seats on the plane - there's my goddamn seat! "Ma,am I suggest you go home and get your receipt/ticket".
It was now 5:45pm. I went back to Air NZ and picked up my luggage and updated the Air NZ agent on the situation. Her parting words: "Be back here by 6:45pm". I hauled ass out of the terminal, which is less than 3 mph when you're dragging a bike box and a wheelie. No taxis in sight but there were a whole host of "shared vans". I yelled out San Francisco and a guy got out of his van and began to assist me. "I'm chartering you. We're going to Nob Hill and back and if we make it back by 6:45pm, I'll give you a huge tip". "Uh-oh, deal", he said. I jumped in and the clock in the van read 5:52pm.
The van lurched away from the terminal curbside as the driver yelled at me to buckle up and relax. My mind raced. I drive to and from SFO in 20mins all the time... just never at 6pm on a Friday. My driver (whose name I never asked - sorry!) did more weaving than you'd see at a basket-making convention. 70mph. Nice. Past the newly named Monster stadium. We were cruising. Then...my stomach sank as we came over the hill by Potrero Ave. We hit the wall of red lights...I knew it would be there but I'd been in denial. Bay Bridge traffic spilling over all five lanes. I moved to the
edge of my seat and anxiously wailed to the driver. "Honey, just sit back and let me do my th'ang", he cautioned. He yanked the wheel to the right as a handful of consternated commuters hit their horns hard. We exited onto Potrero and traffic was moving. We hit a few red lights but we were making more progress than on 101. We crossed Market and I saw 9th street. Great, a straight shot up to Larkin and then I'm back home. The door to the van was open and I was jumping to the sidewalk as we screeched to a stop in front of Sushi Rock. It was 6:17pm. The elevator in my building takes 50 seconds to reach the 3rd floor (why do I know that?) so I took the stairs, grabbing the rail and pulling myself up 3 steps at a time. I was back in the van w/ ticket in hand at 6:19pm. I was clearly anxious and my driver reiterated that I needed to stay calm, buckle up and sit back. We wove through downtown traffic, retracing our steps along Potrero and were back on 101 by 6:30pm. I was beginning to feel more confident and sensing this my driver started to ask me questions. Where I was going? Why? I spinned my triathlon yarn and the highlight of that conversation was that he guessed I was 26. Yay! Maybe, he was angling for an even biGGer tip. I pulled out a wad of 20s, explaining that I was giving him the fare plus 100% tip. Then I walked him through the plan for arrival at SFO. Yes, I'm at my A-type best in panic situations! I was going to run to the check-in desk and I was tasking him to follow me with the bike box and wheelie. We hit the airport off-ramp at 6:40pm and I was back in line at 6:41pm. I triumphantly waved my ticket at the same Air NZ agent, whooping with delight that I'd made it. The driver followed, dragging my luggage behind.
"You are late. The flight is already boarding," 'tsked the gate agent. "Your luggage may not make the flight. You also have to get through security". I scanned the terminal which was practically empty, I couldn't begin to conceive that security was going to be more than a 5 minute chore. I prosecuted my case, saying that I'd go straight through security and sprint to the plane. The agent reluctantly took my passport and ticket, while calling over a baggage handler to *express* the lugagge in the direction of Air NZ 007. I hugged the newly enriched van driver goodbye and
told him that I was fine and that I was getting on the plane. I breezed through security, sped-walked to gate 96 only to join the 300+ passengers lining up to board the 747. I had soooo made it! I settled into seat 26K, separated by a seat from a very pleasant woman called Nancy who turned out to be Chris Lieto's next door neighbor, knew nothing about triathlon but gave me a supply of "energen-c" for my trip. Random.

Anyway, *kia ora" is welcome in Maori. I arrived and it's 7:30am and the rental car place does not open until 8am...bummer. So I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee w/ skim milk, otherwise known as a "flat white".

10 reasons a morning ride is so rewarding

1. I only need to wash my hair once a day (unless of course I'm running/swimming in the evening - life of a would-be triathlete)
2. I can make a date in the evening without compromising my training schedule
3. The thrill I get every time I ride across the Golden Gate bridge because it's a different color every time
4. The chance that the sunrise might be stunning, or at least pretty good
5. Prime-time wildlife viewing
6. Morning dew
7. No guilt when I scoff down my usual fruit, yoghurt as well as a toasted bagel plus a large chai latte for breakfast
8. Bragging rights at the office (after I've snuck in at 9:15am, hoping no-one noticed my tardiness)
9. Climbing off my bike at the front door, steaming and heroic. Fingers and toes are cold but the shower awaits...
10. Seeing myself as hardcore in other people's eyes
It's better than dragging your bum to the pool for a morning swim! ;-)

Eventful morning ride

pete and i did a recovery ride around paradise this morning... recovery has a double-entendre since i was nursing a mild hangover (let's blame stacey!)

the first incident was a heart-stopping narrow-miss collision with 250lbs of venison while descending camino alto. a true case of *deer in nite-rider headlamp* but thankfully i missed the animal by about two feet... which was still way too close for comfort

the second incident occurred as we pulled onto the sidewalk to get a coffee at the café in tiburon (yes, after 25 miles of riding, i was still nursing the hangover!). the sight of jordan, dressed in the areté blue, white and silver and pete in *blue and white imitation areté gear* astride our bikes startled a small border collie (think lassie but half the size) which was tied to one of the café chairs. the poor pooch jumped up from its resting place and started hauling ass along main street, with the café chair in tow. i ran into the café to alert the dog's owner that the pooch had fled in terror, taking the café chair with it. thankfully the frightened collie came to a halt about 100 yards down the street, probably from the exhaustion of dragging a 20lb chair behind it but not before the café proprietor had came out to see *who* had stolen one of the outdoor chairs... i think it was more excitement than tiburon could handle before 8am and i suspect that it might get written up for the local police report... *border collie caught red-handed stealing café furniture*

jc

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."

Heartbroken rap by *The Real Emcee JC*

Hi! My name is…(what?) My name is… (who?)
My name is…(scratches) Emcee JC
Hi! My name is…(what?) My name is… (who?)
My name is…(scratches) Emcee JC

Hi Friend! Do you like affairs of the heart? (yeah! Yeah! Yeah!)
Wanna hear the report of the white boy New Yorker and the Brit-girl tart? (uh-huh!)
Watch ‘em swim, bike, run at Wildflower
She displayed native grace but then matched his cycle power
Then ladies stranded on the return from Alpine Dam
Responds to a lifeline call, he becomes a hero, more than a man
Bonded further wit’ Phil and Paul’s banter at the Tour de France
Blown away by the cyclist they just call Lance
Charmed by his humor and a soft spot for his balding pate
Hmmm, could this dude be more than a running mate?
Briefly distracted by 6’5” Sebastian, the silver medalist
Cute, tall. But skinny-legged Pete is funny. The Olympian is jettisoned
She learns to swim, he teased like she’s doing the Macarena
Still, she’s hoping he just might want to date her
Partner in pain during the century they call the World’s Toughest
Rejecting World Series tix, he became the World’s Meanest

Triathlon roadtrips, fat tire fraternal ‘ventures at Slickrock
Chink in emotional armor; huggin’, kissin, even sucking his c***
Wear down and exhaust his powers of resistance
Cavin’ finally to her foolish persistence
Heart’s dead weight, tryin’ to get her emotions straight
‘Cause back in SF, he doesn’t want her as a date
Halloween! Coyote Ugly is shimmying and shaking her small booty
Turnaround in San Diego, he finds banana girl more fruity
How can it be? SoCal is all smiles, sex and affection
Reverse direction. In SF, it transforms into unspoken rejection
Friends said, JC, yeah, we see he’s a fool
But stickin’ around just ain’t cool
Stop the sufferin’, the hot chick’s movin’ on
Fucked up commitment issues have finally won
I’m so sorry if this all strikes too close to home
Trust me, it’s in jest, you’ve unleashed my funny bone

***************
Original lyrics by the Real Slim Shady
[ Chorus ] x 2
Hi! My name is...(what?) My name is...(who?)
My name is...‹scratches› Slim Shady
Hi! My name is...(huh?) My name is...(what?)
My name is...‹scratches› Slim Shady

[ Intro ] (during above chorus)
‹clears throat› Excuse me!
Can I have the attention of the class
For one second?

Hi kids! Do you like violence? (yeah! yeah! yeah!)
Wanna see me stick Nine Inch Nails through each one of my eyelids? (uh-huh!)
Wanna copy me and do exactly like I did? (yeah! yeah!)
Try 'cid and get fucked up worse than my life is? (huh?)
My brain's dead weight, I'm tryin' to get my head straight
But I can't figure out which Spice Girl I want to impregnate (umm)
And Dr. Dre said ([Dre] Slim Shady, you a basehead)
Uh-uhh! ([Dre] So why's your face red? Man you wasted!)
Well, since age 12 I've felt like I'm someone else
Cause I hung my original self from the top bunk with a belt
Got pissed off and ripped Pamela Lee's tits off ‹rip›
And smacked her so hard I knocked her clothes backwards like Kris Kross
I smoke a fat pound of grass and fall on my ass
Faster than the fat bitch who sat down too fast (whoaa!)
C'mere slut (Shady wait a minute, that's my girl dawg!)
I don't give a fuck, God sent me to piss the world off

[ Chorus ]

My English teacher wanted to flunk me in junior high
Thanks a lot, next semester I'll be 35
I smacked him in his face wit an eraser, chased him with a stapler
And stapled his nuts to a stack of papers (ooww!)
Walked in a strip club, had my jacket zipped up
Flashed the bartender, then stuck my dick in the tip cup
Extra-terrestrial, runnin' over pedestrians
In a space-ship while they screamin' at me (let's just be friends!)
Ninety-nine percent of my life I was lied to
I just found out my mom does more dope than I do (damn)
I told her I'd grow up to be a famous rapper
Make a record about doin' drugs and name it after her (oh thank you!)
You know you blew up when the women rush the stands
And try to touch your hands like some screamin' Usher fans ‹squeals›
This guy at White Castle asked for my autograph (Dude, can I get your autograph?)
So I signed it: "Dear Dave, Thanks for the support-ASSHOLE!"

[ Chorus ]

Stop the tape! This kid needs to be locked away! (get him!)
Dr. Dre don't just stand there, operate!
I'm not ready to leave, it's too scary to die (fuck that)
I'll have to be carried inside the cemetary and buried alive (aiyo)
Am I comin' or goin'? I can barely decide
I just drank a fifth of vodka-dare me to drive? (go ahead)
All my life I was very deprived
I ain't had a woman in years, my palms are too hairy to hide (whoops)
Clothes ripped like the Incredible Hulk
I spit when I talk ‹hochs, spits›
I'll fuck anything that walks (c'mere)
When I was little I used to get so hungry I would throw fits
How you gonna breast-feed me Mom (wah!) you ain't got no tits! (wah!)
I lay awake and strap myself in the bed
Put a bulletproof vest on and shoot myself in the head (BANG)
I'm steamin' mad ‹growl› and by the way when you see my dad (yeah?)
Tell him I slit his throat-in this dream I had

[ Chorus ] x 2

Top 10 reasons to ride in the rain

10. It's invigorating and you're a warrior.
9. The amazing cloud patterns in the Bay Area create awesome lighting scenarios
8. Opportunity to wear all that wet weather cycling gear you purchased at Sports Basement
7. No one else is out there
6. Ralph’s is only 4 weeks away
5. The McCullough Road hill in the Headlands is pretty sheltered from wind and rain
4. The weather in San Francisco is so localized it might not be raining the other side of the bridge
3. Cycling in the rain is still more enjoyable than swimming
2. Feeling of triumph as you weave by the SUV commuters picking up their lattés at Starbucks on Polk St
1. Lance would be riding

Plus a couple of bonus reasons…

Seeing your pedal stroke reflected from the water on the road below.

Hearing that 'ssssssssss' sound as 23mm of rubber slice through the thin layer of rain.

My Favorite Things

My Favorite Things
Words by Pete November / Composed by Rogers & Hamerstein

Wetsuits and kickboards and goggles and paddles
Aeroboars set right to fit with our saddles
Ultegra components with double chain rings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cytomax, Gatorade, Gu and bananas
Helmets that fit over funky bandanas
Shaving your legs so the road rash don’t sting
These are a few of my favorite things

Heart rates and split times and thresholds of lactate
A transition set-up with room for my rackmate
The level of fitness triathlon brings
These are a few of my favorite things

When it’s still dark
My alarm rings
And motivation’s low
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I can get up and go!

*******
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad

Top ten memorable moments of Ironman Hawaii 2003

10. Sharing pizza and chicken wings as part of Michael and Dave’s fat and carbo-loading last supper
9. Listening to U2’s ‘Beautiful Day’ after the horn blew at the start of the 2003 Ironman World Championships
8. Enjoying a leisurely brunch after the swim start in the knowledge that I was not missing any of the “Ironman action”
7. Knowing I had the “best seat in the house” on the back of Bryan’s scooter, riding around the bike and run courses
6. “Scootering by” a surprised Dave Bailey as he dominated one of the hills in the dead zone – “Get it Done Dave – you own this hill”
5. Chris McCormack’s broad smile when I yelled “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie” as he slowed to a walk in the Energy Lab
4. Snapping a pic of Michael and Dave high 5’ing while passing one another on the marathon
3. Experiencing the enthusiastic crowd as the final athletes crossed the line before the midnight (17 hour) cut-off time
2. The look of surprise and excitement on Michael’s face when his name was announced as the winner of the fastest amateur bike split (a.k.a. Hammerhead award) at the Banquet dinner
1. Being able to count two world class triathletes among my biking buddies – inspiring and motivating!

Bonus moment…
Watching Dave Bailey giggle like a schoolgirl while being humped by a 300lb horny monk seal when snorkeling the day after the race

Lost Coast Ride by Chris Carey

Just a little riding anecdote from the camping trip this weekend.... Saturday, July 5th Myself, Mack, Michael, and Jordan, piled into the family truckster and headed for the ave of the giants for a 100 mile ride. After "careful" review of the map (the quotes around careful is to emphasize a commonly used literary device called foreshadowing) myself, Mack and Michael found that we would have one 5 mile climb to the coast and that would be the only steep part of the ride. The rest was flat and even downhill. The ride would take us in a giant loop through the ave of the giants, onto the coast then circle back around to the ave of the giants. The three men charged the first climb with reckless abandon, pushing hard up 15% grades, 95 degree heat and at times gravel road. Michael of course leading and dropping mack and I, as was the theme of the weekend (despite the fact he had already ridden 200 miles on thursday and 60 hard miles on Friday). After reaching the top, we three descended down into Honeydew. here, we stopped at a local marker and refilled "our" water bottles (again, note the quotes referencing foreshadowing). As soon as that was done, we headed out on the ride that was to take us along the coast. Jordan, decided to continue down the descent to Honeydew where she ran into the same locals who advised her that we had just left and we were bastards for ditching her. However, with her cool, British wit, she gamely replied, "oh no, I am planning on riding back and picking up the pieces when the three return from the ride." Focus on the word pieces here (I am just tired of typing quotes and by now you should be looking for foreshadowing). Back to the main pack. As we headed out of Honeydew we plowed along on straight flat highways making terrific time. However, our trusted map began to lead us astray as we approached the first of 3 big climbs to the coast. As we charged ahead, Michael slowly but surely weaned us off his wheel, mack first then myself (this order will be key later). As I got to the top and could see the ocean below me I felt a surge of pride, and relief that the climbing had to be over with. (From this point on the story will only focus on my ride as I will let the others speak of the hardships that they encountered) As I descended down to sea level I was met with the strongest headwind I have ever ridden in. I was pedaling in my 2nd to easiest gear and possibly holding 10 miles an hour. The wind we later gauged to be between 30-35 mph. Completely unshielded from the wind, I couldn't help but curse myself that I didn't stay with Michael on the climb so that I could be drafting behind him in the wind. After 30 minutes of the punishing coast, my eyes spied what was ahead of me and my stomach dropped. A climb which made the 15% grade look easy was staring at me, taunting me. As I prepared myself mentally for the climb mentally, I tried to do so as well physically by taking a drink of cytomax. As I reached back to my cages, I found them both empty. It seems the unbelievably rough descent had jettisoned my bottles. I was 65 miles out, with no water and a massive climb in front of me. The next 1.5 hours can be summed up in one word...climbing. Grades greater than 20% at times, twice the road descended back to sea level only to make you climb the 2500 feet back up. (I will at this point insert a quote from Michael "Those F&cking sheep were laughing at me." Also note that none of this climb was on the map) What made matters worse, besides having no water and not seeing Michael or Mack anywhere, was that our 90 degree day quickly turned to 45-50 degree fog. But, I was focused. I knew the road I was looking for had something to do with a "bear" and was near the town of Ferndale. My watch now read 5:30, I had been riding for 4.5 hours, and I still had at least 40 miles to go when I spotted it, "Bear River Road." A quick right turn and I was headed downhill, for good this time, or so I thought. After the paved road turned to dirt/gravel (which was not uncommon by this point) but then stayed this way for a good mile or so, I realized I was not where I wanted to be and descended almost all the way to the bottom. The road I was looking for was Grizzly Bluff, but the mnemonic I choose to remember the road, "Bear", just happened to be in another street sign. By this time I hadn't seen Michael for 3 hours as I presumed he was down, waiting for me and Mack and Ferndale. And, due to my detour, I had figured Mack had passed me and was headed down as well. So, I climbed as hard as I could back to my original point, then pedaled for 5 for miles along the fogged in ridge before I descended into Ferndale, a welcome sight. After searching for Michael and Mack, grabbing a Dr.Pepper from the local supermarket and finishing it before I paid. I decided they must have got sick of waiting for me and headed out. After receiving a variety of directions from the locals on just where the hell I was and how to get back, I found "grizzly bluff." The time now read 6:30. My only goal was to try and find our "planned" route so that when they came to look for me they knew where to look. Well, like everything else that day, I got lost again. Failing to find "Blue Sky" or "Blue ridge" or "Blue Line", whatever the hell the name of the street was, I can tell you it had a Blue in it, I pedaled into another local market and this time bypassed the 12 oz can of Dr. Pepper for the more rationale 1 lt bottle of coke amd asked this question verbatim "uh, yeah, how do I get to the ave of the giants...you know...the big trees.( I believe at this point I was brain dead)". The answer, to my amazement was, "stay left and you have about 12 miles to go." I was going to make it. I strapped that one liter bottle to the back of my jersey and set off like a man possessed (which at this point was more like an elderly woman in a get-around scooter). However, after a few turns and a brief sting on 101, I made it, "the Ave of the Giants...Next Exit." Pulling of 101 I turned into the Ave of the Giants. Of course, the Ave of the Giants has many entrances and since I wasn't on the pre discussed path I had no idea if the meeting point was north or south. After pedaling south a few hundred yards I found a map that was about as helpful as a blind, mute, deaf man who was lost as well, in terms of helping me find my way. But then it happened, a light so pure and warm that seeing it almost makes you want to avert your eyes because you aren't worthy. Yes, Jordan had gone on a reconnaissance mission to find me. Of course, she didn't see me on the side of the road so I had to flail my arms and almost dive in front of the blue volvo to get her to stop. At which point I said, "how much farther." She quickly perceived my exhaustion and took my bike from me and told me to get my arse in the car. However, it was at this point that she said, "where are Michael and Mack." (now, remember the order from before, it went Michael, myself, then Mack.) Now I thought, shit they are waiting for me somewhere in bumblef*ck called Ferndale cursing my name. We decided to go look for them and as we were driving down 101 we spotted our lost comrades. A quick U turn and pull off. Michael and Mack ride up, and Michael, with a giddy/crazy look in his eye says "I bet you're wondering what the hell happened." To help end an email that is almost as long as the ride, and to let the players tell their stories as it happened I will only paraphrase....Michael crashed at the first descent and went off the road landing head first with his bike in a tree, a shoe still connected to the bike. I passed not noticing the skid mark but Michael managed to climb up before mack and passed. Mack then took the same wrong turn I did and had to climb up which had Michael waiting for him in Ferndale freezing his ass off before Mack could climb back up and descend down the correct road and then continue on to the Ave of the Giants. So, we all survived. Michael found one of my bottles and used it since his bottles fell out as well and we all agreed to write nasty emails to the Kelly Map company. Thank god Jordan was their to pick up the pieces. She even managed to grab a six pack on the way...The end---