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The annual duathlon at UBC in Vancouver was held today. After hibernating a bit over the past months, I pumped up the tyres on the Softride and went racin’.

Here’s the race report!

Well THAT didn’t Suck

Sato Hydrosloth’s 2020 UBC Duathlon Race Report

Doing a “traditional” (not snow-based) multisport in Canada in early March is a privilege not a right, and it’s one of the main reasons that my wife and I moved out to the Fraser Valley from Alberta back in the early 1990s. Unlike “real Canadians” who relish skiing, skating, and watching golf on Sunday afternoons for six months of the year, I’d rather be swim/bike/running, outdoors whenever reasonable. So it was with that attitude of gratitude that I brought to the start line of my 15^th shot at this early season event. Here’s the story.

Lead In

Cautiously optimistic. I went into the race moderately well-trained, in good health, and at a decent weight for March (158). Some persisting hip issues scared me away from doing much high intensity running but run frequency and length was spot on. The week before the local race, I had my first physio session with local meanie, Angela Froese. She told me a lot of stuff and did painful things to me and by the Thursday before the race my stride was pure enough to really do some pretty stupid stuff.

From a biking perspective, I had an average (3 x / week) lead up. Born agains find God, I found Zwift and was converted, until my one week membership lapsed and I was back on the ComputerTrainer doing ERG mode intervals. As effective. Not as sexy.

Another conversion was becoming a half-assessed vegetarian. That happened in November. Primarily out of laziness. Secondly out of curiosity. Never one to go “all in” I don’t eat meat about nine days out of ten. One of those MEAT days was the night before the race, ham & pineapple pizza from Ricardo’s. Yum. Paired well with the South African red blend. Six ounces of moderation. Ten PM bedtime.

Equipment

I had a lot of fun with my mid 1990s vintage Softride Road Rocket over the winter so, that bike (along with some sweeeeet Zipp 404s) made it’s return visit to UBC after an absence of about a decade. The folks in the bike check in line up were amused.

In my water bottle on the bike was another red blend. Twelve ounces of water (more or less) with 3 ounces of pomegranate juice with 4 scoops of dextrose with 1/2 a teaspoon of F2C salt. The mixture was lovely as I decanted it for 72 hours in my swimming gear bag.

With much too many running shoes options, I opted for age over beauty. My first 5 k were done in a pair of no-name orange shoes from The Bay, comfortable and light. The second pair were the 2011 Pearl Izumi Tri Shoes. No laces to screw with, would make transition a snap!

The big question for the race prep, of course is what to wear. But forgetting stuff back at home, was a brilliant solution to fretting about what ensemble would be “just right.” 3/4 length tights (yes underwear!) and a very tight fitting Under Armour compression shirt would have to do, rain, snow, or shine.

AM Of

An early (8:15) start meant being up by 4:15 and coherent by 4:50. Just enough time for toast, an antacid pill, coffee, and greeting Mikey at the garage door. The soothsayers calls for snow and rain were wrong. Cloudy and 5 as we pulled put of the driveway, cautiously optimistic. No traffic issues as Mikey navigated to Vancouver.

Parking was done by 6:15 and shortly thereafter my bike was being scrutinized by a hawk-eyed mechanic. After he stopped laughing at my slack chain he handed it back to me and said, “nice bike.” I’m sworn to secrecy as to what he said next. But I was allowed to race.

The usual set up chores were done with great joy because a) there was no wind or rain b) we had the bike racks to ourselves. After small talk with race officials and club member we headed back to the car for more coffee and gel. Then back to transition for more gel still (but apparently not enough) and the caffeine pill. After a bit of warm up, it was on with the timing chip, adjust the heart rate monitor alarm limits (148/162) and off to the start line.

Run 1 (what’s with this?)

Without much of a warning the horn went off. I was a bit slow to get the memo and found a flock of 20 ahead of me. Silly me. After a few awkward maneuvers I positioned myself in a reasonable spot. The ATC kid, Chris O was about 40 metres ahead of me and wearing bright green, an easy target for when he starts to fade. After three minutes, I had a short moment of self-satisfaction. My running stride was pure! Well pure enough. Like 93% pure. This could be a race (unlike last year).

Well, I guess the rest of the folks ahead of me got the race memo too because we were rolling hard and not slowing down. Even that slight uphill in the first two k was done at a pretty stout pace. I wasn’t catching anybody. But I guess a few folks had their hearts set on catching me. First was some female with as good of form as she had flowing hair, secondly was some old kid with grey hair. Scherbey learned to run over the winter!

Despite dropping a couple of places in the last k of the run, my morale was high. My stride felt fine and just important, Mikey and Craig Premack were where they were supposed to be. Behind me. But how far back? At the out and back before transition, it was all revealed.. Chris with a lead of about a minute, Dean S, about 30 seconds, and Craig and Mikey comfortably behind me.

Transition 1 (smooth runnings)

In previous years and in warmer weather, I chose to use gloves. Not this year. It was a wise decision. In the blink of an eye, I was out of transition and spinning joyfully up the modest hill. In another blink, Scherbey was passing me again. This was not a surprise. But could he hold the pace? Let’s find out!

Bike 1 (going for bronze)

After passing a few of the sprint triathletes, I found some clear road and began to make some watts. The Softride tracked confidently down the hill and around the first two turns. Things were feeling fine. Maybe too fine? Yep! So after a swig of my sugar water, I bared down and lumbered down the hill. At the spot along Marine Drive where the trees give way to a vista of the ocean a microsecond of gratitude swept over me. What an amazing day. No rain. Hardly any wind!

Just about 300 metres from the Marine Drive turn-around, I was afforded another progress check, Chris had increased his lead, as did Dean. I was cautiously optimistic. The lack of wind was a joy on the return trip back to the end of the first loop. Also a joy, was a very relaxed and strong dude who seemed to be toying with me. He was upbeat, and just chatty enough. Then he was gone!

The 2020 version of the duathlon race course was my favourite ever. The designers did a great job of highlighting potholes, dividing traffic, and providing ample signs to let you know where you were supposed to ride. Hurrah for them! I didn’t even get lost this time! I was off on my second lap and excited about the chances of me picking up some places as experience, most assuredly, would trump youth and vigor on this day. I guess the caffeine was still doing its job!

I took an even more aggressive shot at the downhill onto Marine Drive for lap two, in a serious but not foolhardy attempt to bring back Chris and Dean. My strategy was to gently increase my intensity to the point of blowing up, gently backing off, and then repeating. It was ineffective. They easily maintained their widening margins as they became smaller and smaller and smaller.

Transition 2 (That’s what she said).

At the intersection of too much testosterone and lack of oxygen is a place called race brain. Being the master of a smooth downhill dismount, I was a bit, um disappointed to see the path to my bike rack clogged with amateurs. So with the grace of a mallard duck, I got off my bike and ran to the left, around the leisurely moving people. This move did not go unnoticed or appreciated. Even worse, was when the witness was a very keen race official. She quite assertively instructed me on how she wanted me to enter transition. Apparently I got it wrong again and was kindly requested to do it again… her way. Apparently I got it right and was allowed to rack my bike.

Run 2 (Objects are further than they appear).

Another microwave of gratitude passed through my body as I left transition. I was running again. And it was really running, not the “oh my god I must have just donated a gallon of blood” style of running. I hope the woman in green was also expressing some sort of similar gratitude as she rocketed past me, as if I had just donated a gallon of blood.

Again, it was either the caffeine or the natural endorphin from being in the heart of a battle that gave me indefatigable and unwarranted optimism. I was suffering in a good way and excited about what may happen in the final twenty minutes. Feeling quite confident that my divorce from cramping was now permanent, I began taking chances, burying myself, recovering, doing it again. The net result = nothing. I passed nobody, but perhaps more importantly at this stage of a race, nobody passed me. Scherbey’s white jacket began growing bigger. This could be interesting! A quick check of my heart rate monitor told me nothing I could understand. Just breathe, run, and hope. At the final turn-around, hope turned to to fear, as both Chris and Dean were steadfast in maintaining their leads and a rallying Craig yelled at me, “there’s still enough room for me to catch you!” But unlike many, many, other years when I would cramp going up the last hill, my legs were solid and I was able to push harder and finish strong.

Stats & Smart Ass Comments

Run 1: 21:05. Really? I don’t think I’m that fast…. yet.

T1: 1:28. Just say no to gloves, no matter what! I am Canadian.

Bike: *Included bonus time for Mr. Bonehead. 38:52. I have ridden 39 minutes nine times at this race but on this day, conditions were never finer, at 56 my cycling is about as strong as it was when I was 42 =)

T2: 1:16. Keep it simple. No gloves. No laces. No bullshit.

Run 2: 22:48. Here is where the lack of hard runs showed itself. Probably a cardio thing. Legs were solid.

14/69 overall. A confidence booster. A fast crew this year. The kids did well. More sugar please. Meat or no meat? Don’t matter. Tell Angela to needle me on Monday!