Vernal Bliss
Coach Kevin’s 2018 UBC duathlon race report
5 K run – 20 K bike – 5 K run
March 10
Prelude
Not sick or injured. Steady balanced training all through the winter. Usual March weight (160). Steady diet of intervals on the Computrainer but not lots of fast running so my speed was unknown… somewhat!
The night before the race we went to some new place in Mission. A burger and fries and a beer and we were off to Leigh Ann’s & Brad’s for one more glass before getting to sleep by 10:30.
Technical Stuff
Even though I had not been on it for 4 months, I decided to go with my Quintana Roo CD 0.1. Went with the usual HED 3 in front and disc covered rear. A wise decision. Wow! I didn’t realize my stem was so low.
As I was still somewhat unsure of my racing legs I used some cushy and comfortable (? brand) for the first 5 K and then my reliable “Meb-New York Marathon” Sketchers – lightweight but forgiving!
As the weather was sunny and about 4 degrees, I wore a 1-piece tri-suit as a base layer with Adidas tights and an Under Armour shirt with arm warmers. A thin layer was the wise choice for comfort and aerodynamics.
A great decision to pack all my stuff in the car the night before. Because the race start was moved from 11 to 8:30, I was a bit apprehensive about getting there in time and had breakfast (Clif Bar & coffee) en route. No drama drive and I was at the UBC parkade by 6:45. Blazed through registration and bike check and transition and was back in the car for a nap by 7:15.
A quick change of clothes and some Glyco-Endurance mixed with a scoop of salt and it was off to get my timing chip and do the warm-up. I was a bit surprised (disappointed??) that not many folks were lined up to do the race. Where were Winston, Nathan, Morgan, and Jeff? Well, at least Nick P was there to be the rabbit and Craig Premack to be the stick. There was also this youngster who looked like he would give us trouble on the run…. he did! As well, we had Mylene, Allan, and Dean from the ATC doing there first duathlon. They picked a fine day to learn on.
Run 1:
A dude yells out, “One, two, three” and we’re off at the usual suicide pace bumping and jockeying for position on the way too narrow path. It was a downhill start so we were doing about 5:30/mile pace, totally unsustainable for most of us up front. Who would back off first? 300 metres later the decision was made. It was Craig Premack!
I buried myself for the next three minutes, trying to keep contact with the “groupeto” that had formed about 400 metres from Nick Patenaude. I held on, held on, and then conceded on a downhill where things got a bit squirelly for my legs. My cardio was fine. Some new faces at the front today, including that “kid” – but he was too small to be a threat on the bike, no watts! So I contented myself to relax my ever bitchy gut and cruise just at sub-puke-threshold, it’s worked before!
Damn! What a fine day and what a fun run course. No soggy shoes or running top. I managed to stay in contact with the groupeto into transition.
T1:
This was the 13th time that I did this race and I unhurriedly went through the paces needed to get onto the bike course. A few minor fumbles due to wearing gloves and onto the bike course I went. Let’s see if these dudes got some watts!
Bike
As usual, I slacked it up the hill that leads to the dragstrip that is Marine Drive. I’m just a lazy-ass that way. I guess that 1 caffeine pill wasn’t enough. Two quick rights on a lovely descent before the rhythm-killing chicane and we were rolling hard, my HED 3 pounding out that familiar “thump-thump” as speeds were hitting 55.
It was nice of the race organizers to do a splendid job on coning off all the crap sections of pavement. At times it was like a slalom course, negotiating the sketchy pavement and the occasional slow bike. After hitting the turn-around and seeing that the “runners” were not giving back any time, I buried myself for about a kilometre on that beautiful uphill that affords a view of the water. Some old guy on a Trek road bike with box rims and hundred-year-old aero bars didn’t like the way I passed him so he laid down the smack and put a gap of 50 metres on me. I was happy for him. But he must have invested a bit too much because just before “the climb” I slingshotted around him and just kept upping the intensity.
It was all fun and games and that’s what I LIKE about short course! No having to “save it” for three or four hours later, the race is NOW! Unfortunately my speed fest was interrupted by a lot of bike congestion about 300 metres from the turn-around. Knowing that you can only LOSE races (and friends) by being a dick in a situation like this, I backed off the intensity and played it cool as we rounded the pylons to begin the second fun-filled lap.
Just as I was turning, hey!! I know these guys! Two of my competitors in the duathlon were just ahead of me. While they were spinning up the incline leading to the dragstrip, I geared up, stood up, and blew them off. I did NOT feel heroic because I knew they were strong runners and I needed to put as much time as I could into them now if I was going to place in the top three. One of them (the dude NOT using flat pedals) made a point of catching up to me near the chicane. I marked him. After 300 metres of patience, the Green Manalishi (the name for my bike) surged past him.
I was happy that I brought a water bottle with me. After the pass, I had a sip and tightened up the boa straps on my bike shoes. No sense pissing away hard-earned watts due to some loose fitting shoes! I guess that I should have been trying harder because I was feeling happy. This is always a bad sign. (note to self- RED BULLLLLLLLLL).
After the second full turn-around we were headed for home and for some reason, a wave of complacency hit me. Maybe it was the wonderfully pleasant weather. Maybe it was a lack of caffeine. Maybe it was that I was passing so many people so easily. Maybe it was that my heart rate monitor wasn’t going off to tell me to go harder. Whatever it was, I seemed to be content noodling around at a heart rate of 152 when I knew that two guys who could probably out run me, were behind me. This was a mistake!
I “woke up” on the hill that took us to transition and tried to pay penance for my sin of sloth in the last kilometre. As the road narrowed and we approached transition, I had to cool it and surprisingly managed a decent dismount.
T2:
After gingerly running to my bike rack and racking the Green Manalishi, I methodically (read that slowly) ditched my helmet and shoes, put on my runners and lumbered out. Hmmm, I sure could use a coffee.
Run 2:
The electrolytes in my sports drink and my time in the weight room were paying dividends as I hit my stride quickly whilst going up the hill out of transition. My legs were responding well and my cardio was keeping up. Unfortunately, so were the “runners.” About 700 metres into the run, on that wonderful downhill, I ran out of gears. They did not. They began working together to steal my podium spot and put a frustrating gap of about 200 metres on me. They had faster legs than me, but did they want it more than me?
Yeah, pretty much they did. Or, they were just that much faster. They sorted things out between themselves with “flat pedals guy” being the victor. It seemed like the other guy was fading and there was a glimmer of hope but on a gentle incline before plaza run, his beautiful form was better than my beautiful form (well, at least in my head) and he was able to maintain the gap. I felt too happy about this. Gee, my legs felt great.
One of my favourite parts of this run course was the one kilometre out and back to “echo-corner” – some cheering spectators, some sunshine, and a glorious view of the ocean. About 200 metres after the final turn-around, I saw Craig Premack coming up quickly. It was time to bury it! Again on that mild uphill, my legs and cardio were up for the test, no hints of cramping, just strong legs, snappy turnover and 400, 300, 200, metres to the finish line. Some relaxed and deep breaths and a dance around another participant (not a duathlete) and it was over. Gee my legs felt great.
Stats:
Run 1: 20:06. Bike: 38:09. Run 2: 21:50. 1:23;20. Good enough for 5th out of about 35. Same overall result as last year and a bit faster. Not sure of age groups results yet.
Lessons Learned:
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Keep up the hamstring and core stuff.
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Run shorter faster intervals… maybe 200s?
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More caffeine?
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Don’t dick with bike position. It’s ok.
Lesley Maisey: You are an Ironman/Woman/Person
Whenever someone invests time and energy to complete an endurance event, there is something we can learn from their efforts. In the past we have heard from folks like Rio Glowasky and Joe Crocker as they have transformed their lives since embracing racing (and the training required to do it!). Earlier this summer, our Fitspeek Follower and friend, and Ironvet (!) Lesley Maisey competed in the Ironman Race in the Napa Valley area of Central California. Here, she tells us about her experiences during her big day.Primary lesson learned from Ironman Santa Rosa: pack every type of wetsuit you have. Take the fulll suit, the sleeveless, the neoprene swim shorts and the speed suit. Whether you can wear a wetsuit or not on race day depends on water temperature. At the race briefing, the legality of a wetsuit was in question but likely a non wetsuit swim due to the lake temperature at 76.1F. Another 0.1 degree F, so 76.2F meant wetsuits were not allowed. Now if you are a weaker swimmer and rely on your wetsuit’s buoyancy to get you safely through a 2.4 mile (3.8km) swim you could still wear it but you were removed from any award eligibility and cautioned on the risk of overheating. The sales of speed suits skyrocketed at the expo; I almost got sucked into the frenzy but Rob reeled me back in. I have one at home, it was my mistake not to pack it for a hot race. It’s now added to the pack list!
Race morning, the 0430 athlete shuttle out to the lake was relatively quiet and peaceful. There was a gentle buzz of conversation but no yahoos with their music blasting or jumping around trying to high five everyone (yes I’ve had that experience and it doesn’t allow for some centering and reflection before a long day). Into T1 with my headlamp as it’s still dark; we typically see sunrise part way into the swim. Tires pumped to 110psi, bottles and nutrition loaded on the bike and then down to the lake. Wetsuits were permitted as the temp was at that magical number of 76.1F. So nice to dive into warm water and have the added buoyancy but wetsuits cause extra stress on the shoulders having to move restricted with a thin neoprene layer. Pros and cons to most things aren’t there? The typical punches, kicks and swim-overs in the water were there but these don’t phase me anymore. The lake was quite choppy though and I kept losing sight of the course markers so swam a bit extra I’m sure. Not my fastest swim but I felt strong and still had good energy exiting, so an efficient swim! My transition times were long because of the 1/3 mile run up the boat launch, wetsuit stripper visit, around to the bag pick up and then finally around the back of the change tents and into the tent. New volunteer rules meant no help in the tent, not even with sunscreen application. I had a good community in the tent, as we had a line of athletes all putting sunscreen on each other’s backs. Then out and onto the bike.
I knew in the first few minutes this was going to be tough. My Garmin had been kicked and hit a ton in lap two of the swim so I had to reset it to catch any bike metrics. Most times I start the bike feeling awesome as this part is my strength, but not this time. I had ridden the 160km Valley GranFondo 6 days before and my legs were not fresh. Rob and I hadn’t driven the bike course but the profile hadn’t seemed too bad. The hills were nothing too major but felt far steeper with tired legs. The roads were in terrible shape though. Lots of orange tape marking off the worst hazards but I rode on high alert thankful for the carbon fibre frame and wheels taking some of the vibration. There were bottles and bike parts littering the course and so many people flatting out (not me though thankfully). At about 60 miles I could hear my front brake rubbing as it was finally a smooth section of road. Who knows how long that rolling resistance had been in play? Stopped for a quick adjustment and I was moving again. At mile 80 I stopped at an aid station and actually got off my bike. Normally I ride through and urinate as I go (sorry if TMI!) and rinse with a water bottle but I just needed a minute off that thing! I had 32 miles to go and wasn’t having much fun. I sat in the stinky “honey bucket” (irony at its finest) and recall hanging my head in my hands. My head ached and my body was sore but after a few minutes I got back in the saddle and resumed pedalling. The last 42 miles was a three loop section and had some of the worst roads. Every bump started to really hurt and there were groans and profanities uttered by all. I was so delighted to give my bike to the volunteer at the dismount line at 112 miles (180km). A longish run in cycling shoes took me into the next change tent.
Through T2 and onto the run. The run course was changed to a 3-looper a week before to allow more frequent access to aid stations and two stops at your special needs bag if you wanted. It felt so good to run…for about the first 4 miles. After that it was more mental than anything. I had been in my head for most of the bike course which is not good and had a hard time shaking it on the run. I saw Rob at mile 9 for a kiss and much needed words of encouragement. He was there at every loop, even ran with me for a bit and walked with me through the aid station on that part of the course. I was light headed off and on, struggling with nausea but actually not cramping at all. I could run when I talked myself into it! Grapes were the sustenance that kept me going along with cola. I could not stomach another gel, block, or bar. So grapes, a couple pieces of an orange and about 4 pretzels is what I consumed on the 26.2 mile run. My favourite sign on the run was “I bet you’d like your bike back now!” Oh how true they were!
I kept thinking that I must have missed the 22 mile marker. My Garmin had a dead battery and there were fewer than usual mile markers. I almost burst into tears when I finally did see it as in my mind it should have been there 2 miles ago! Mile 25 through to the finish was the longest 1.2 miles I have ever run. You think a marathon is long? That last mile felt like it took forever! They sure like to tour us around in Santa Rosa. In keeping with the long transition pathways of the day, the exit for the finish chute was at least 8 blocks. Just when you think you’re there, a lovely volunteer says “just two more turns” or “just two more blocks to go”. Seriously! That finish line seemed elusive. I could hear Mike Reilly’s booming voice (the announcer) but I couldn’t see that red and black magic carpet leading up to the finisher’s arch.
When I finally did, and it seemed like I had run far more than just 1.2 miles since that 25 mile sign, I had the same emotional flood that I had on my first ironman finish and every one since. Even though this was my tenth, it is never a guarantee that I will finish. Anything can happen on race day. When you do make it across that line it brings relief that I can really stop now, disappointment that I didn’t meet my goal time, joy in hearing my name called out as an ironman finisher, gratitude that Rob is there cheering me through that finish, and thankful that my body lets me do this crazy event and holds up to all the training and the challenges of race day. This one took 13 hours, 44 minutes and 46 seconds. I was sweaty, salty, dusty and sparkling due to the sunscreen (I told another athlete I was channeling my inner unicorn), but I was done! I think I’ll give it a few more days before planning 2018…
A Tale of Two Amigos (Kevin Heinze/Mikey Ross)
2017 Prospera Fraser Valley Granfondo Race Report
Sunday July 23
Lead In:
What a journey it was to the start line. The main theme of my 2017 training and racing season is about going long as I am entered in the Ultraman Triathlon at the start of August. About 70% of my training in all three sports was done at a very low (110-125) heart rate to teach my body to be faster and more efficient, as well as to prevent any sickness or injury in doing those super long training sessions.
Things were rolling along well until the last week of June when I took a chance on a super long training and racing block. Saturday, I did a 225 km ride on a pretty hot day. The following day, I did an Olympic distance triathlon at Cultus Lake. The following day, I believe was my nail in my coffin, when I did an almost three-hour training run in 35 degree heat in Penticton.
The next three weeks were the grimmest I have experienced. I contracted some sort of death virus (the Dr. Is now suggesting that it may have been meningitis). The virus gave me: unbearable headaches, terrible jaw and neck pains, sleep pattern disruption, a massive reduction in my energy levels, a reduction in my cognitive functioning, a reduction in my appetite, constipation, bloodshot eyes leading to reduced vision, intolerance for sunshine or any warm temperatures, night sweats, anemia, for a few days severe back aches, and still, after four weeks moderate tinnitus.
These things were not good for training! I did very little for three weeks. My bike fitness going into the fondo was fairly low and I thought to get through it, I would need to be smart, because I certainly was not strong.
Equipment:
My 2012 Scott Foil with a 50/34 crankset and a 12/32 (!) cogset, Zipp 404 Firecrests with Specialized Turbo S-Works 23s ensured not only that I had plenty of gear for all climbs but also that I was carry no more weight than was needed.
Fueling:
In addition to smart pacing, I knew that if I was going to get through this event with such low fitness I was going to have to be eating and drinking a lot for the whole event. Riding with Mikey Ross was one of the ways I ensured that this was going to happen. Another way was to overload myself with fuel. On the frame of my bike at the start line was a) a 20 ounce bottle of regular F2C Hydro-Endurance with 100 ml of caffeine b) a 20 ounce “super-bottle” of F2C Glyco-Endurance (4 scoops) with 100 ml of caffeine. In my jersey I had a) a pill flask of assorted salt tablets and caffeine pills b) a Clif Bar c) a gel flask with Hammer Gel d) 3 Clif Shots e) a flask with 6 scoops of F2C Electro-Endurance and 5 scoops of Glyco-Endurance. My goal was to consume all of this stuff during the ride.
AM of the race:
After two scoops of Greek yogurt and half a Clif Bar, Elise (my wife) and I got in the car and headed off to the race! We arrived at the parking lot at the Fort Langley Airport by about 5:45. The race started at 7. We needed to get there early to pick up Elise’s race number and timing chip. After a few tense minutes, due to a data input error, they found Elise on the system and she was good to race! The weather was amazing with gentle sunshine and no wind! It was about seventeen degrees. After finding Mikey and having eight ounces of Republica coffee, I got my mind right and was ready to get into the staging corral.
1st 30 minutes:
Unlike my previous three other fondos where I saw myself more as a competitor than a participant and started very aggressively, the start of this year’s event was very laid back, no 300 watt surge to the front to blow off the chaff and find the “right” pack to ride with. Mikey and I employed a much saner and safer approach – start easy and build into our speed over the next five hours. It was, for that day, a very wise decision. Despite the hundreds of riders swarming around us, Mikey and I had plenty of energy to stay with each other and respond to opportunities as they presented themselves to bridge up to faster packs. We communicated well and rode together until the pace and my heart rate rose and rose and the string…snapped. Bye bye Mikey!
30 minutes to bottom of Majuba Hill:
Although I was a bit disappointed that Mikey and I were no longer riding together, my mind was busy scheming on how best to get through the rest of the day with a minimum of effort. As in other years, I was caught in “no-man’s land” with very, very, few other cyclists to work with. I was mentally prepared for this. I locked into my Ironman pace and started putting together my own train by encouraging cyclists who were flagging to join up with me. Then, if we were passed by a group who was just a little faster, we would do our best to hang on to them. The strategy worked well and our little train of middle of the packers rolled on.
At the second aid station, I decided to go to the bathroom and refill my bottles. Who did I see decked out in the Liquigas jersey and bright green helmet? Mikey! My motivation was buoyed and we zipped along (just the two of us) for the next 10 K or so. Knowing our two-person strategy was wasting energy, we were looking for folks to ride with. Turns out that someone found us! Right after we crossed Highway 11, some beast of a cyclist came up behind us with all of the energy of a freight train. He got on my wheel and let out a huge sigh of relief, “I’ve been chasing you guys for ten minutes” he said. After a few minutes of recovery, he took his turn on the front to give Mikey and myself some relief. We worked patiently and productively as we breezed through the Sumas Prairie on the way to Yarrow.
And then, there they were, in the distance, less than a kilometre away! Another small group of cyclists. Knowing that the ride from Yarrow to the base of Sumas Mountain is traditionally the windiest section of the ride, I made it a priority to catch up to them. I’m not too sure if Mikey or the beast were wise to what I was up to for the first few minutes, but they quickly caught on and we worked hard to bridge the gap. This is one of the things that I really enjoy about pure cycling as opposed to triathlon. We buried ourselves in the task at hand, throwing away any notions of pacing, knowing that a strong surge here would pay dividends. We did it – but at a price. Once we caught on to this group of Tri-Cities-Cycling Club riders, it was kind of like being placed on a bucking bronco. There was no reprieve at all and we really had to work hard to stay on the wheels of the folks we just caught. They were dictating the pace and we were just hanging on. Making things mentally more difficult was knowing that this big effort was just a few minutes before one of the big climbs of the day – Majuba Hill.
One of the benefits of my illness was that I lost a lot of weight. Race day morning I weighed 146 pounds. This no doubt helped me on the climbs. The first evidence was on Majuba. As is my usual strategy, once the road pitched upwards, I gently pulled way over to the right side of the road so that everybody in the group could pass me. I like to start long climbs slowly, so I wanted to make sure that the true climbers could work their magic. Within a minute, I was off the back with a gap of about 50 metres, in my easiest gear and feeling great. With a mixture of sitting and standing and gradually increasing my intensity, I started to make my way up the climb and pass people along the way. Within a few more minutes of measured intensity, I was sitting at third wheel in our group of nine. As we hit the apex, I noticed a few riders coming up the other side who I recognized. It was Sally and Jamie Johnson! A quick “hello” and it was into an aero tuck to reap the rewards of our efforts.
Yarrow to bottom of Sumas Mountain Climb:
Rolling into Yarrow we were greeted by wonderful overcast skies! No punishing sunshine and heat, well, at least for the next hour or so! Because the Coquitlam riders were just as good at descending as they were at climbing, we really had our work cut out for us as they, again, put a gap of about 500 metres on the three of us. Knowing the winds were only going to intensify as we approached North Parallel Road, we had to join up with them right away if we were to catch them. So again, heads down, heart rates up, and hammer hammer hammer until we again, caught up to them. Paydirt! Thanks to their strong riding and some heroic time at the front into the Western headwind by Mikey, we got through that windy section without too much trouble. As we crossed the Trans Canada Highway, I started eating and drinking lots to empty my bottles and to fuel my body for the Sumas Mountain climb.
We started climbing a bit, but just before the real work of the climb began we had another aid station. Mikey and I made the most of it and loaded our pockets with Clif Blocks. I also made a “super-bottle” of F2C Glyco-Endurance mixed with 3 scoops of Electro-Endurance. This potion was going to be my insurance policy against bonking and cramping in the final two hours.
Sumas Climb to Beer Time:
This was my third time doing the fondo, so I knew what was ahead, the famed Sumas Mountain King of the Mountains points climb. Like always, I treated it with all the seriousness of a grade seven French test. As soon as I crossed the line that signaled the start of the climb I relaxed, put my bike into 34/32 (!) and started to sneak my way up the hill. With the clouds in the sky and the temperature at about 22 degrees, this was going to be the easiest ascent up Sumas ever! And it was. And it was the loneliest too. With NO performance expectations, a weight of about 147 pounds, not a lot of leg fatigue and that 34/32, I stuck it to that climb, rather than the other way around. It was just Mikey and I. Noticing Mikey’s pattern of becoming chatty when he is REALLY working it, I backed off the pace and rode with him, side by side for the remainder of the climb. Where was everybody?
We crested the hill without fanfare and down we went. The descent went wonderfully, as both Mikey and I are not the bravest of descenders. Since there was NOBODY else around, we had plenty of room to maneuver Into Clayburn Village we went, expecting to see dozens of other riders, instead, we saw – NOBODY. We were a bit perplexed but nonetheless we carried on. It was a very different fondo experience. Rather than using the “train” of a dozen or so cyclists to get through the Matsqui Flats, it was just Mikey and I taking turns on the front. On the rare occasion that we did catch up to a rider, we invited them to get on board with us, but they were too pooped to play. I used these poor souls as a reminder to myself to keep eating and drinking ~ more gels, more Glyco-Endurance = more happiness. Even though the temperature was starting to climb and late morning winds were starting to whip up, my sugar and caffeine induced high was powering me through what is a traditionally for me, a dark spot in the fondo.
While I was eating and drinking, Mikey, of course, was doing the same thing. And, as the miles wore on to the start of the Olund Road, he was getting stronger. In a selfish act of self-preservation I stopped pulling at the front. When the turn for the Olund climb appeared, so did two other cyclists, one from behind and one from in front. Instinctively, I encouraged the newcomers to join us and work together for the rest of the ride. Our new group, as unbalanced as it was (one surging rider and one flagging rider – obviously experiencing different realities at this point in the event) worked quite well together. We rolled through Mount Lehman and the rollers leading to the descent into the Fort Langley flats.
Again, I was eating and drinking plenty, already thinking about my recovery and workouts for the rest of the week. On one of the final climbs before the valley, we finally caught up to another group of cyclists. They were all dressed in the same stuff, so I guess they were part of a team. Our group of five had swelled to eleven and even though our pack splintered somewhat on the descent into the valley, we regrouped and worked together for awhile. I think by catching up to that team, all we did was embarrass them and piss them off. When we did catch up to them, they were obviously slacking off because as soon as we hit the sign that said “ten kilometres to go” they woke up and hit the gas.
Mikey was like a wolf after a rabbit. It was impressive. Trying to keep up with the wolf, I watched my heart rate rise from 140 to 150 to 160 to 162. Despite my effort, that team continued to increase their gap on us. The funny thing is, although I was going hard, very hard, I wasn’t in physical discomfort. It was like I had a rev limiter installed because once my heart rate hit 162, it simply did not go any higher. That’s all I had.
Mikey had more! Despite the obvious pain in his glutes, he took to the front, still in kill mode and he encouraged me to work hard and pick off weaker riders. It worked to a point. Those last few minutes evaporated into a haze of sugar and sunshine. Mikey was a true friend. He was clearly the stronger rider but continued to hang back with me as the signs screamed 1 K to finish, 300 metres to finish. There was no Sagenesque sprint at the line, just a smile and raised hands. We finished together!
Stats:
On a day where I just wanted to finish and maybe feel strong at the end I was pleased with the result, an average heart rate of 142 with an average watts of 162, my time was 5:20 (40 minutes slower than my first try) and I placed 265/471 – very much middle of the pack.
Lessons Learned:
This section is a little bit different because usually I have reflections based on what I need to do in order to get better, and what I did during the event that resulted in a superior performance. The reflections from this event are more holistic.
Lesson #1) I can be smart when I need to: since I was (hell, I still AM) recovering from the death virus, my strategy of pacing very conservatively paid off very well. My recovery from the event was quick. My Ultra-Dream is still a possibility.
Lesson #2) Food is my friend: whether I am participating, or competing (especially at the longer distances) I need to eat more than I think I do. As I have learned and re-learned over the years, when my physical or mental energy in an event is flagging, I need sugar!
Lesson #3) In drag racing, there is no substitute for cubic inches. In cycling, for folks with average fitness (or less) on the bike, there is no substitute for gears. In the stone ages of cycling some riders used to use a term called granny gear although the alliteration is cute, it is a pretty useless term. It almost sounds like it is a specific cog such as a 25. Is it? My point is this, as a middle of the pack rider on the day, I found that I never, ever, regretted having a gear ratio as “easy” as 34/32. Whether it was allowing me to sit and spin on some of the more moderate climbs earlier in the day, or stand and spin as my legs fatigued later on, having that option was very beneficial. I have Dylan and Bruce at Wenting’s Cycle to thank for rigging up such an amazing drive train
Lesson #4: Mikey Ross is both a monster and a gentleman. Mikey sat on his bike at the start line for the fondo, a mere 48 hours after having returned to Canada after a three week trip to Scandinavia. That’s three weeks of zero cycling. Mikey rode like a soldier for the entire event, taking more than his fair share of pulls at the front, wisely pacing himself on the hills, and selflessly getting me to the finish line. When opportunities presented themselves, he took them and showed his strong competitive spirit. It was a neat experience to be part of.
Thanks for reading this race report. I hope that it was worth your time in reading. If you did the fondo and have written up one, I’d be happy to read it and post it on the race reports section of www.fitspeek.com
My Big Fat Ultra Experiment
Sato Hydrosloth’s Positive Spin and Cultus Lake Triathlon Report
Lead in:
In great long distance shape, due to all the ultra distance stuff that I have been doing. I am not fast however. Earlier in the week, I did 2 times trials and although I was (finally) comfortable on my bike, I could tell my maximum power was quite low. I took the Friday off and then on the Saturday before the race did a 225 K, almost 8 hour charity ride. I spent a lot of time in the sun that day in what was about 32 degree heat. I used the ride as an opportunity to experiment with my nutrition. For most of the ride, I relied on F2C products. I made a 24 ounce super-bottled that had 5 scoops of Glyco-Endurance 4 scoops of Electro-Endurance, and 200 mg of caffeine. My other bottle was just 24 ounces of Glyco-Endurance.
Let’s get started:
At the start of the Positive Spin ride, we were asked to either join the fast 200 group, or the fun 200 group. I was feeling like fun should be the order of the day! Although for the first two hours of the ride, I felt uncomfortable riding in a pack, I settled in and began the first substantial climb of the day. Majuba Hill was a chance for energetic riders to test their legs. Knowing we had a l-o-n-g day ahead of us I pulled off, slipped into my 34/32, spun up the hill, and watched Gordon Cheng bolt up the hill like a young Contador. An amazing power to weight ratio.
Guided by our knowledgeable, sociable, and capable rider leaders Dan McLaughlin and Crystal Lambert, the next three hours of the ride were just as advertised, fun and social. I had an opportunity to meet and chat with many new people – almost like a coffee shop on wheels. With the fairly-frequent rest/food stops which featured ICE COLD CANS OF COKE my sugar levels were high and my mind was right.
Who is Matt Scott?
One of the real characters that I got to spend some good time with on the ride was Matt Scott. I had met Matt for the first time last year when I interviewed him about his Valley Cross cycle-cross races but you sure get to know a person more when you spend a few hours with them. Matt joined us about an hour into the ride and quickly added his presence to our group by taking the lead, story-telling, and encouraging people. His comments to me about my pack-riding etiquette were most welcome. And even though Matt was riding a cycle-cross bike, with a heavier frame and wider tyres, he always kept up with us, smiling the entire time. Unfortunately for Matt, he had some issues with one of his hands and had to cut the ride short at about the seven hour mark.
The road to nowhere.
After messing about the Cultus Lake area, where heavy traffic made us all ride with vigilance, we snaked our way through a part of Chilliwack that for many folks was the centerpiece of their rides. Taking a right turn, we began the ride to Chilliwack Lake Provincial Park. I had heard a few things about this part of the course, and, being a map geek, I marveled at the opportunity that this 30 kilometre long stretch of road presented. From what I had heard, the pavement was going to be quite rough, so I made sure that I filled my tyres with only 100 pounds of pressure. Fifteen minutes up the road, however, the road continued to be very smooth – bonus!
In the mid-day 36 degree heat, I saw a mirage, er was it an oasis, er was it an aid station. Indeed it was the later, staffed by some very upbeat lady (sorry that I did not get her name) along with Phoenix Velo Patriarch Geoff Everton. What was unusual about this station was that not only did it offer the usual Coke, oat bars, pastries, and F2C stuff, but they also were offering turkey sandwiches! As much as I am an advocate of eating real food on long runs and rides, the turkey meat did not appeal to me and it was the usual Coke and some F2C Gyco-Endurance with some added salt and we were off! Or were we? It seemed like some of the riders needed a bit more time to rest and digest before carrying on, so after about five minutes of easy riding we decided to get off our bikes and wait for the others. Dan M, decided to ride back to the group and pull them up to the rest of us. For the next hour or so, our group of about 11 decreased to 7 as Jamie and Sally Johnson had to slow down in order to help their daughter Annabelle, who was starting to struggle with the heat.
We pedaled on, working as a group as much for the pacing and motivational aspects as any aerodynamic advantage it offered (we were doing about 25 kph, so, yes, there was still an aerodynamic advantage as well). In the group, Crystal started a rumor of a water faucet at the end of the road, so the incentive of having bottles of cold water dumped over our heads certainly provided motivation for the group.
So where was that storied water faucet? Well, as it turned out, it was a “little” off the road at the provincial park campsite. Some “off-roading” on our skinny-tired bikes was going to be needed if we were to reap the rewards of our efforts. After an easy (flat) 3 minute ride we found our oasis, a high-pressure water hose. The 4 of us who arrived there first, excitedly awaited our time with “the hose!” Rather than fill my bottles with it, my first order of business was cooling off. Ten seconds of hose to the head was all that was needed to help my body spring back to life. Of course the 20 ounces of cold water that I gulped down helped too. 5 minutes of aquatic bliss later, we were regrouped and headed down the long road.
Odd Man Out
It was during this long descent that one of my shortcomings as a pack riding cyclist was revealed. I’m not very good at riding in a pack downhill. With all the pedaling and then gliding, my rhythm disappeared and I deemed myself untrustworthy. Gently, I dropped from the group and gave them a gap of about ten metres, still enough to benefit from the draft but not too close if things got dicey. After about ten minutes of this, my confidence rose and I decided to try riding with them again. I was pretty refreshed from being on the back for so long, so I took a pull at the front. Thinking that all the added wind resistance would require more effort, I pushed myself a bit, to what I would judge to be an Ironman distance pace. Ahhh, harmony! That wonderful synergy of breathing and pedaling, of being in “that” zone really felt great, so I locked in and stayed on the front. The hot air graced my lungs and I realized that it was this sort of thing that I was really good at. Other than my semi-laboured breathing, things were very, very, quiet. Shaking myself from this almost trance-like state, I looked back, expecting to see an appreciative half-dozen riders benefiting from my efforts. Instead, I saw no one. Hmmm, I guess the rest of the group were either not feeling as perky as I was, or they thought that my riding skills at the front were shaky. At any rate, I slowed down and let them catch up to me. No words were spoken. I reclaimed my spot at the back as if the last 15 minutes never happened.
Never, ever, leave well-enough alone.
Just prior to the point where the road to Chilliwack Lake ended and we got back into the maelstrom that was the city of Chilliwack on Vedder Road, we had our first, and only mechanical issue, turned issues. The initial event was simply a flat tire. I know how many men it takes to change a flat and the answer is five men, less, me. Knowing I had nothing to offer the group, I pulled off to a shady area to tinker with my bike seat. As the group started to falter, I thought that I may be doing a lot of the next three hours by myself and wanted to position my seat better to work with my aerobars. In my adjustments, I over-loosened the seat clamp and all the parts fell into my very shaky hands or were strew on the gravel. Ashamedly, I fumbled about, trying to put together the puzzle that was my seat post assembly. Five minutes turned to ten and likely to twelve, grumbling ensued. Somehow I was able to piece it back together, tighten up the seat real good, and head down the road for the remaining three hours of riding.
When the road goes up, so does the heart rate
Sometimes ignorance is bliss, sometimes it’s a bastard. I’m not too sure what to make of the remaining climbs of the day. Maybe it was the ice cold Coke, maybe it was the F2C Electro-Endurance (fancy salt), maybe it was the training, but I felt very strong for the remaining two and a half hours of the ride. When many of our group members were slowing down, especially on the Ryder Lake section, I was at the front, breathing deeply, and setting the pace. It seemed like I had quite a deep well of fitness from which to draw from. This was very gratifying and seemed to validate all of those long rides that I had done in the Okanagan. And even though high intensity training only was about 20% of my training volume in the past four months, once the tempo got to a high level on a few of the remaining climbs, I was able to bury myself and see some really high heart rate numbers. Again, this was very gratifying.
Flashes of….death?
In the final hour of the ride things turned very social, as most of the remaining riders were quite content just to get to the finish line and grab that beer! There were however a few interesting moments like the last big climb up Chilliwack Mountain where I was on the front and Dan M, took off like a lion as we neared the crest. Unsure of just how long this climb was going to be, I was content to just follow. Although I was ready for the climb, I was NOT ready for the fast, tight, left hand curve shortly after the crest. As I was marveling at the view, I had another view, that of my life flashing before my eyes as my rate of speed, coupled with the tightness of the curve terrified and humbled me. I have only felt like that a few times in my life. After somehow making it through that turn, I regained control over my bike, slowed right down, and very carefully made my way down the rest of the hill. Flat roads never seemed so fine! The rest of the group quickly caught up to Dan and I, and we rode the remaining twenty kilometers together. It was very much like the way we started the day with a relaxed pace and a lot of chatting. My only challenge on this part of the ride was nerves in my left foot, it was the usual, “is my foot on fire?” sensation which often appears in the late stages of a ride. Fortunately, the pace was so relaxed, that I was able to ride with both of my feet on top of my pedals and still keep up. Problem solved!
There is no finish line
Once the ride was over, things were anticlimactic The remaining five of us, simply went our own ways and that was that. My first stop was the beer tent, where I poured some low-alcohol beer that tasted ok. I sat around and chatted to Gordon and Michelle for a few minutes, loaded up my bike, and drove home. My remaining Clif Bar tasted pretty darn good between Chilliwack and Mission. Once getting home, my amazing wife greeted me with steak, salad, and potatoes – a REAL meal to replenish my mind and muscles. After a quick chat and a beer, it was back into the basement to prepare for act two of the weekend, the Cultus Lake Olympic distance triathlon.
Gettin back on dat pony
After my equipment for the triathlon was packed, I staggered to bed, crashed, woke up at five, had a yogurt and Clif Bar breakfast, re-packed the car, and headed off to the second event of the weekend – the Olympic distance race at the Spring Cultus Lake Triathlon. Thankfully, I didn’t have to drive.
This was one of the lowest pressure triathlons in my twenty-seven years of racing them. After Saturday’s adventure, I had no performance expectations. My thoughts were, show up, participate, survive, and then really crank up the training intensity for the following 3 days before driving to Saskatchewan and having about four days off.
After the minutia of setting up my transition area, I went for a short run, just to see how my legs were feeling after yesterday’s eight hour ride. I was pleasantly surprised to find out, that although they were tired, they were neither sore, nor heavy. I thought to myself that I just might get through the day, after all. But not without a little bit of a challenge.
Use the Force, Kevin
As the day was quite sunny, and we were going to be heading into the low, morning sun for part of the swim, I made the decision to use my trusty tinted Tyr goggles. I hadn’t used them for awhile, but while packing them the night before, I lightly coated the lenses with a bit of hand soap to act as an anti-fog agent. Ordinarily this treatment would work but as this was a race, of course it didn’t. After fifty metres of my swim warm up, they fogged up. No problem, I’ll just swim to the dock, give them a good blast of saliva, and I’ll be good to go. Somewhere in all of this preparation the countdown to the race was winding down. Joe Dixon’s droning voice announced, “one minute to start.” I calmly removed my goggles, spat on them, and began to massage my goo onto the lenses as I heard, “ten, nine, eight!” I laughed to myself, “oh, so it’s gonna be one of THOSE days” and slowly adjusted my goggles while “three, two, one” seemed to get the 200 people around me, rather excited. Nonchalantly I entered the stream of front of the pack swimmers and did my best 300 metre sprint to separate me from the wanna be contenders. That didn’t work out too well. Not only was my speed lacking but my saliva failed to deliver. I was swimming, er splashing, with the visual acuity of a bat after a forty of vodka. Still, undaunted, I plugged away, as I have plenty of race experience dealing with this kind of adversity. I followed feet as if my life depended on it, regardless of their rather leisurely pace. Better to stay on course and swim slowly, than swim like a madman, a nearly blind madman. Naturally after about 300 metres, I got greedy and broke from the pack and soloed to the next turn-around buoy. Well, that was the plan. Within two minutes of this folly, I regretted my decision and took off my goggles to see if I was on course. I was on course, but considering the physical investment, I was getting a damn poor reward. I swam diagonally (never a time-saving approach) to the pack that only three minutes ago was too slow for me. I laughed at my shit luck with the goggles and soldiered on for the rest of the swim.
Paying the Piper, or whoever the hell it is
Having a positive attitude and years of experience will get you through a lot in a triathlon. What it won’t do, however, is make you any faster. I knew that going into this weekend there would be points where it may be difficult to continue. I was wrong. Even though the day before, I had ridden for 225 kilometers and been out in the hot sun for eleven hours my spirits were high and my body was doing what I wanted it to…. well at least to a point. After blasting down the hill in the first five kilometres of the bike course, I got down on my aerobars and I thought it was going to be business as usual, passing tons of people who were faster than me in the water. The first ten kilometres were encouraging. I did pass a few people and happily watched my heart rate climb from 130 to 140 and then to a somewhat acceptable for an Olympic Distance bike, of 145 beats per minute. Then, strangely enough, I began to get hungry. That never happens in short race. I greedily took the one gel that I had packed and smashed it down with some F2C Hydra-Endurance. That felt pretty good and I was able to keep up my respectable pace for another five minutes, then I started to become disengaged. Oh, I kept going, of course, but my head just wasn’t in it. Neither, I guess, was my heart, as my pulse dropped from 145 to 140, to my “happy pace” of about 135 – which would be great, if the race was just 120 kilometres longer.
This was pretty much new territory for me. I was reminded of my new reality as people began to pass me on the bike, something that very rarely happens. Rather than getting upset, or trying to stay with them, I just stayed as aero as I could and maximize the meager watts that I was generating. More of the same played out for the remaining twenty kilometres of the bike.
Don’t worry, be happy… and slow.
After dragging my butt up the hill and into transition, I was curious as to how my running legs would feel. My mind was certainly not in race mode, even though it may have appeared so.
I faked my way through transition with a false sense of urgency and, I am sad to say inner-peace. There was no fire, fueled by anger, hatred, and aggression like there should be while I am having a good race – instead there was just this calmness and joy – a sure recipe for failure. I was pleased to find out, that indeed, I did have running legs, and my form was quite good, just a bit of fatigue but decent turn-over. I was just slow.
The miles went happily by and I was in my happy place, encouraging others, thanking volunteers, stopping to pet cats and dogs (well, maybe not that last part). Every time I attempted to push the pace, even for thirty seconds my heart rate would get to a certain level and then just stay there, as if there was a self-preservation device implanted in me. Maybe if I had taken a caffeine pill or a few gels I could have stoked the fire, but I didn’t bring any. I did, however stop at all the aid stations and guzzled down as much F2C Glyco-Endurance as I could in ten seconds. As I cruised around the run course people were passing me… on the run. That never happens! But it did and I didn’t care. There were a few instances where I did manage to pass a few folks but it didn’t really bring much joy.
The one last hurrah of the race happened in the last two kilometres when ATC member Paul Fillipi made his way past me as we tackled a minor uphill section of an out and back. I encouraged Paul and he began to build his lead on me, not that it mattered. Then, despite my leisurely pace, I noticed that he was starting to come back to me. At the last aid station, it seemed like he was spending a lot of time there. Heck, all we had was about 700 metres to the finish line, and it was mainly downhill. I took a quick swig of F2C and pretended to be in race mode. I could fake it for the next four or five minutes. My body complied and down the hill “we” went, building more and more speed as the finish line approached. I crossed the finish line almost laughing at my effort. I guess my time was two hours and thirty three minutes. Good enough! Shortly after the finish line, I started eating and drinking to replenish my body after 265 HOT kilometres of biking, 1.6 k of blind swimming, and 10 k of happy jogging. The F2C recovery drink (thanks Glenda), the pizza (thanks Joe), and the beer (thanks Bryan) was very tasty indeed, however the next 24 hours proved to be the undoing of my Ultra-Dream and led to the most miserable three weeks of my life.
Abbotsford Triathlon Club member Chloe Knull did her first triathlon last weekend (May 7). She was kind enough to share her day with us in this race report.
Three words: Really. Damn. Cold.
From start to finish the only part of my first Sprint-distance triathlon where I did not feel like a complete ice-cube was in the (to quote Erika) “piss-warm water”. Note to self; minimalism is great, unless it pours rain and is only 15degrees out. Then it should have been a lot more layers.
To move away from any negative impressions, this triathlon was about as good as it gets as far as technicality for a beginner. I began the day with peanut butter on a rice cake + banana + two eggs. Felt light at the beginning but I probably could have eaten even less. Set up went smoothly once I arrived at the race and someone even tried to kick me out of transition because they thought I looked “too calm to be competing”. I used a small rubber bin with a lid containing one bag for T1 and one for T2. (Had a bit of envy from those who’s stuff was getting wet without the protection of a lid). As soon as it was time for me to head towards the pool deck the all-to-familiar feeling of having to pee before a swim comp returned and I started to become a bit distracted. I managed to find people in my heat and we discussed times for estimated finish before hopping in the lane. They placed me first when I said I would be out of the water in 14 min. (heat was for 14-16 minute estimated finish) Once we began swimming I started a bit fast but quickly settled into a smooth pace. Very thankful for a counter as I lost track of my laps almost immediately. Thanks brain. I lapped everyone at least once in my lane and hopped out of the water first in my heat with a time of 13:33.
T1 went very smoothly I quickly patted myself down with a towel, pulled on my socks/shoes, gloves, glasses and helmet. This list should have included a jacket as I would soon find out. The rain had stopped but boy was it cold. Walking to the mount line I was all on my own and had lots of room to take things easy. I hopped on my bike for my second ride EVER using clipless pedals. The road was clear and the route was fairly scenic. After riding on the flats for most of my training the hills came as a bit of an obstacle. Reminding myself to push in circles and not squares I used my gears well and made it through without running into one of my irrational fears of having to dismount. My favorite victory of the bike portion was passing a man looking about 25-30ish doing a climb out of his saddle while I was seated and pushed along past him. Incredibly satisfying. I rode back for T2 with no issues and no falls (another irrational fear).
T2 was A LOT harder. My entire body was shaking from the cold and I could not feel my fingers or toes. The night before the race I had decided to only undo one shoe for some reason and must have gotten distracted. Fidgeting with the laces I made it out of T1 and remembered to take my helmet off. Running after biking was hard. As it always is. I hit the trail and got into my head saying its only 5km start pushing. Keeping an even pace and not allowing myself to walk, the blood rushed to my legs and I started to warm up. A few people had started walking by the time I made it to just the 2km mark. Managed to get another guy running beside me, keeping pace until he felt better enough to carry on without me. Always feels good to help fellow athletes! I took in some water at the aid station as I was feeling parched during the run. Turned around to head back to the finish and my legs felt good enough to go faster but my stomach said NO. Going to have to look into ways around nausea during the run as it is not a good feeling.
Crossing the finish line was magic. I actually started crying! I never thought I was capable of fighting to stick to something after my brain has distracted me and made life very difficult. From failing a class in university, as well as not attaining the grades I needed for a program I was interested in… to missing an important work meeting, making it so that I couldn’t work for the summer, I was starting to believe I would never be able to accomplish normal human tasks that everyone has to be doing in order to be productive/successful. But there I was! After sticking with training since the beginning of January I had finally managed to commit to something and not only finish it, but do well at it.
Chlöe:1 ADD:O . Times: Swim: 13:33. Bike: 49:42. Run: 27:08
Age Group Ranking: 1/1. Gender Ranking: 6/41. Overall: 40/109
Our third race report is from Abbotsford Triathlon Club Coach, Mikey Ross. He did the Olympic Distance Triathlon at UBC on Saturday March 11.
I had a blast reading Joe and Sato’s RR’s…so much detail, and knowing the name of your saddle, your wheels, your shoes, your runners….some day I’ll learn that stuff 
🙂 I was right there in both your reports, guys. Thank you for sharing them…Feeling reflective today, so I’ll go that way with my report: Here goes!!!!
It’s going on sixteen years for me, or maybe seventeen? Many of those early years were purely “solo” affairs. Didn’t know a soul after over a decade as a “dedicated single sport road racer”. It was MARK SHORTER who, though he didn’t know it, influenced me first into this wonderful world. I remember talking to him during one of the many Haney to Harrison Relays. He mentioned before we said ‘bye that he was heading off to do a triathlon. I said “what is that?”. As SOON as he said “a swim/bike/run all mushed up together as fast as you can”, I recall thinking “well that’s never gonna happen: I don’t even have a road bike” (was off-roading at the time). Not one month later, I was talking to my sister. She had signed up as Race Director for Cowichan Challenge and during a phone call said “you know, you are a really good runner…you should enter this triathlon I’m running…” I said something really snarky that I won’t repeat again. BUT THE IDEA STUCK LIKE A FRESH PIECE OF DUBBLEBUBBLE ON YOUR RUNNING SHOE! Two months later, I had bought an old old Cannondale with “grannygears”, a 10-Speed with gear shifters way down low low and no arrow bars or anything fancy shmancy. I found myself lined up to pay for the bizarre “My First Triathlon” race in Harrison Lagoon. I had swum for years ever since University, so the swim,despite the weeds in that lagoon, was brilliant. The bike performed FAR beyond any expectations…I ended up 2nd off the bike overall. The run: well, at the time I was a 3 speedworks a week 6 days a week runner: I aced it. I won the race. I was hooked for freaking life!!!!!
Flash forward so many many years, so many many races and so many many dollars later hahahaha!!!!! UBC….I LOVE UBC TRI! Run by students, always a surprise and/or challenge of weather conditions, and an often-changing course, due to construction and what-not. Keeps it fresh. Keeps it new. Keeps it engaging.
To be there with Sato, and Joe somewhere, and Davey at the pool in the same heat….how different than how I started! To say Hi to so many friends and frienemies. To feel confident in what I am doing BUT excited at the opportunity to test my body once again, to embrace my heart and lungs and the limbs that they support. To be racing well amongst such a wide variety of humans, even a few OLDER than me haha! What a priviledge! What a gift! What a FREAKING BLAST!!!! Again and again and again!
SWIM: Gorgeous pool: placed myself in last third of fastest heat: worked last year. Not so much this year. Passed six people and had a head on collision with one other (SORRY!). Wasted time, but I stayed super positive and super rhythmic in my stroke. My race stroke isn’t necessarilly pretty but it’s pretty efficient for getting me out quickly 🙂 That, on race day, is more important to me. ***Thanks Sato for the on-deck engagement and videos!!!!
Biggest decision of the day was what to wear: thanks to the tutoring from Coach Bryan: I made ALL those decisions the night before and ONLY brought a very minimal selection for race day. Paid off BIG TIME. I packed exactly and ONLY what I was changing into and decided that no matter WHAT everyone was doing, I would stick to my plan and lose several precious minutes of overall finish time absorbed into the change tent outside the pool but NOT in the cold and maybe wet conditions in transition. I changed with Davey (sorry if I didn’t even talk to you buddy, but my RaceBrain is very very primal! and with Chris Manore, my frienemy in my age category (and a super nice guy!).
I was prepared for cold, but forgot how the rain can beat you down. Dug deep deep deep during the ride for my Tough Guy, and he was there but allbeit telling me “remember the run: it’s important too”. I deliberately zipped myself up completely and several times during the ride hyperventilated to warm up my core. It worked…sort of! Problem is you can’t breathe into your lower legs and feet. By the time I got off the bike, thrilled with my split given the rain and wind (under 1:10 for 40ish k), my legs made me waddle like Daffy Duck. I simply could NOT find a rhythym and was running little choppy steps like going uphill at Hayward Lake. Four Oly’ contenders passed me in the first K as I dug deeper and deeper and deeper into my “self” to find the UniverseLover. I usually spout gratitude to any and every passerby. I am usually relentless in my praise of others as I see how they are performing. I am usually sure to encourage others who are struggling. Nope. Not this time. It took me until the 4k, going around a corner and up a hill. The guy in front of me was running fantastically. Then something happened. He STOPPED. He said “F*** this hill* and looked so so deeply defeated that I had to help. I slowed down (well, was waddling already so what the hey) and I pepped him with my best pepperspray of motivation. What I said will remain between he and I, it was personal and special, but be damed, it WORKED!!!! He reengaged and paced right behind me, matching me step for step for about 2 more k.
Then the Real Mikey came out for a run. My legs came alive. My heart was fine. My lungs were fine. They are two of my bestest buddies (wait: three…2 lungs + 1 heart). It was MY LEGS I needed a reunion with, and my feet ankles hammies quads and all that other stuff were now ONE with the UNIVERSE. I accelerated and accelerated just like the old me. Passed a few other humans in the process, including Chris Manore, who I simply wasn’t sure if I had passed on the bike, so COULD be finishing too. Poor Chris, after the race he told me that he saw me and followed me…all the way to the finish line until he realized he had missed the turnaround. Thank goodness he did NOT step over the timing mat!
So…all I have to show is the finish photo of the race. I am cold, drawn and unsmiling. It isn’t reflective of the absolute joy I experience in my racing. It IS reflective of the OTHER me that I have to let out to breathe when racing. He is me….yet he is only a part of me….Condensed Cream of Mikey Soup???? Add milk and stir…VOILA!!!!!
Now HOW , oh HOW, could I end this race report without…..
I LOVE THE UNIVERSE!!!!!!!!!!! Never ever ever will I get tired of saying this!!! Cuz I really do!!!! Love, Mikey!!!
I am SO thrilled for Joe. What an EPIC year this club member is going to have…is having ALREADY!!!! His goal is to race about once a month this year, in both runs and tri’s. He will do it, with the wonderful support of Joyce!!! Joe, you are simply amazing in your internal motivation. It’s the KEY, Joe, the KEY!!!
I am equally thrilled for Davey!!!! What a gentleman. We were on deck together and he asked, in his courteous Davey way, if I was okay with talking before a race…. Hahaha??? Me, okay with talking!!!! Davey is finding the wonderful and IMPORTANT balance between racing, training and FAMILY. He is a very very wise man. TALENTED as well: he does TONS of different sports an OutLier, I believe is the term. He placed himself first in the fastest heat and though I didn’t see the end of the swim (busy in the water myself) what I saw was a talented young man flying through the swim course, confident and smooth and strong!!!!! Davey, you will NEVER EVER forget your first race. I am so happy for you!!!!
Sato!!!! What can I say about this person? You got an hour? Rather than that, may I state that it has been TEN times as much fun racing since he came into my world. Just having a buddy, someone you can let the real cracks out with, someone who can tolerate your incessant sparkles and rainbows, someone who tells noone else your most personal secrets, someone who didn’t tease me when I HAD to stop to pee about three or four times on the way down to the race (I believe in hydration!) and THEN in a freaking coffee cup (disposable) in a dark private corner of the parkade (thank goodness for dark private corners). Sato, you mean SO MUCH to me…and I am so excited for you as you proceed towards your UltraExperience this summer!!!!!
Finally, ATC….what a club!!!!! To be able to coach AND to address my own personal training needs, as all coaches do, is sometimes a challenge but ALWAYS a joy! I just can’t seem to get enough!!!!!!
Our second report is from Fitspeek’s Kevin Heinze. He did the duathlon event (5 k run/20 k bike/ 5 k run on March 11).
Prelude
I was happy that I was able to race. My last two races that I was registered for, I had to pull out of due to an injury in my left calf. In the months leading up to the race, I decided to enter Ultra-Man in Penticton so most of my training was done at a VERY low heart rate – but NOT at a low intensity.
As we all know the months between December and March were pretty dreadful, with all that wind, rain, and SNOW. Even my training trip to California in January was drenched. I didn’t get a chance to do Palomar! The Computrainer saw a lot of action.
The night before the race we went to Boston Pizza and I loaded up on some bacon-chipotle penne. Wine was NOT tasting great, so I behaved, limiting myself to 1/2 a glass. Since I was headed to the race at 5:45 with Coach Mikey, I was in bed by ten.
Technical Stuff
Since I didn’t get chance to ride outside all that much, I played it safe and chose to ride my road bike (a Scott Foil). For the race I used Continental 4000 tyres and Zipp 404’s. This combination wasn’t super aerodynamic but it was light and comfortable.
As I was still somewhat injured going into the race I made a safe choice with my running shoe selection, opting for a pair of “Meb-New York Marathon” Sketchers. To be sure they are racing flats, but not as extreme as my Under Armour Speedforms.
Perhaps one of my wisest equipment choices for the day was arm warmers and my choice of top. Rather than wearing gloves, as I have often done in the past, I used a long sleeved cycling top and simply pulled the arms down over my hands. This way, I was able to use my fingers in transition for taking off my running shoes, putting on my cycling shoes, and putting on my cycling helmet. That extra bit of manual dexterity paid big dividends in the heat, er, wet of the battle!
The morning of
Started off wonderfully with 32 ounces of coffee, a Starbucks bagel, and a mixture of clear and cloudy skies. We got to the race site with plenty of time to get a great parking spot and I was able to register for the race with no hassles. Those UBC student organizers are top notch folks! I had plenty of time to rack my bike and chat with “Coach Chris” who was one of the Tri BC officials.
As my race didn’t start until 11 and I was fully prepared by 8:30, I had some time to kill. I went with Mikey to the brand new UBC pool to watch the start of the swim. The facility was very impressive, especially the massive jumbo tron (if that is what they are still called) that displayed which heats were currently in the pool. To amuse myself, I did a few live Facebook feeds to our Tri*Joy website. There were actually a few people watching the feed – a pleasant surprise.
After Mikey’s race began, I headed off to the car for a pre-race nap. After twenty-five minutes of bliss, I downed the rest of my coffee and a gel, got into my “battle-Armour” for a rainy day and headed to the start line. The usual suspects of Nick Patenaude, Morgan Cabot, Winston Guo, and Craig Premack were already there. After some obligatory smack-talk for the lot of them, we had the obligatory pre-race briefing, and lined up for the start.
Run 1:
The thing that I really like about duathlon, as opposed to triathlon, is that for me, it truly is a race from start to finish. Because even though I have been doing triathlon for a quarter of a century, I often give myself an “out” because I started swimming too late in life to be truly competitive. In duathlon, it’s just running and biking and there are no excuses, no bullshit, I succeed or fail on my own god-given talents. No voodoo stuff like with swimming.
Within 20 seconds of the gun going off, I was running faster than I had in ten months. I was feeling fine! Despite my brisk pace, I was in eighth or ninth place. 200 metres later, things sorted themselves out and I was in fifth. My legs were able to support the crazy speed that we were going (as the 1st K of the run is a steady downhill). I took a chance and passed cycling phenom Morgan Cabot. I realized this would be a temporary arrangement as Morgan is also an exceptional uphill runner. She proved me right near the end of the quite steep (maybe 8 %) section. I confidently hung on to her heels until we got into transition and she boarded her spaceship.
T1:
This was the 12th time that I did UBC and despite of the wet weather, it was likely my best run to bike transition. Even though my cycling shoes were half-soaked, I had no problem sliding into them. Even clipping into my sometimes temperamental Rudy Project helmet went smoothly. I credit my choice of racing top for my good fortune. Since the top had long sleeves, I didn’t need to have gloves on to protect my hands from the cold. As I got into transition, all I had to do was roll up my sleeves a bit and I had full-access to my fingers.
Bike:
My longest outdoor ride of the year previous to UBC was in January. I cycled in 70 kph winds between Camp Pendleton and San Clemente. The rain was so bad during that ride, that my eyes were tearing up because of the rain driving into them from the crosswinds. That ride in California prepared me well for UBC.
Being somewhat sensible, I took it easy down the preliminary “sidewalk section” of the bike course prior to getting onto the road. This gave me an opportunity to tighten up the boa straps on my Specialized cycling shoes. Once I hit the road, it was hammer time, or it was supposed to be. It took me too much time to get into the zone. For moments like this, a power meter or heart rate monitor would have been a good idea. Even if I had one, however, I am not sure if I would have been able to see if from all the rain pounding down.
In addition to having a bike fetish, I have a bike wheel fetish, AND a bike seat position fetish/obsession. I scoff at fools who don’t adjust their seat weekly. Today however, no mid-course tweaking was required, as my Scott Foil with my Vision aerobars and Selle Italia all-carbon/no padding was 100% dialed in for the conditions. Two power-positions on the saddle and a sick drop on the aerobars gave me plenty of benefits in the pesky crosswinds coming up off of the water.
Not that I needed any benefits. It was lonely out there. Save for some folks who were doing the triathlon, I was-all-by-myself. Near the turn-around for the first bike lap, I saw the duathlon leaders… all four of them – about a minute or two ahead of me. Could I bridge the gap to them? Delusional More realistically, could I hold off the rest of the field who may have been gaining on me?
No need to worry. As it turns out, the folks who could run faster than me could also ride faster than me and the folks who couldn’t run faster than me also couldn’t ride faster than me. Even Craig Premack, who has out-biked me in the previous eleven years was not making up time. The remainder of the bike was pretty much an individual time trial. Where was that power-meter to help me from slacking?
My power-reality check appeared, as if out of nowhere. Some old dude, on an old aluminum road bike WITHOUT aerobars passed me. It was time to wake up and go! After graciously relinquishing my position, I upped my power and stuck with him until the last bike turn-around, then, with the chase over, I slowed down a bit. I need to remember NOT to slack in the last two k of this race. The distance from the bike turn-around to transition is longer than you think!
T2:
Sure enough, all the people who were not on the race course, were somehow, in the bike finishing chute with the usual amount of congestion. This was not that big of a deal. I carefully jogged my bike back to the rack. Without any hassle again (!) I slid my waterlogged runners on. Off I went, trying to not be seen by Craig Premack, as I suspected he may be right behind me. I took a quick look behind me.
Run 2:
Unlike many of my twelve previous UBC duathlons, my second run this time started without a sense of urgency. There was nobody on my heels, pushing me. Nor were there any close targets that I could push hard and reel in. It was a mixed blessing in that it seemed like I had fifth place overall sewed up, but a move into forth place seemed unlikely. My body, however didn’t know this and it stormed out of transition as if I was being chased by a pack of rabid ducks (the only kind of animal who would be out in this nonsense).
With such a lack of people out on the run course at this stage of the event, I was able to start playing movies in my head. As I completed the long gradual downhill section, my mind flashed back to watching (on You Tube!) Mark Allen reel in Jurgen Zach and Thomas Helriegel in the 1995 Ironman. My target was female but an uber-biker all the same. It was as if I was listening to the announcer’s voice say, “The raw reality is this, for the first time since about 11 o’clock, Kevin Heinze can see Morgan Cabot’s back, and it’s getting closer. The young female who’s led so well, so long, so strong, now feels what countless others have felt, the grip of sloth [sic].”
But where was she? Far, far, up the course. My leg muscles were ready for the challenge of a hopeless chase. With my fifty-three year old lungs energized by the cool moist air, I was ready to fight to the finish line, not limp it in like I did last year. In the rain-soaked, wind-blown remainder of the run course, I harvested a crop of early-season fitness that I tended so well over the winter. My success, at the expense of the dozen or so triathletes that found me on their shoulder and tried to respond.
With the final right turn at the top of the hill in sight, I backed off the pace, not so much in defeat, but, rather in gratitude, a signal to my body that all of this super low heart rate training that I had been doing for Ultra-man didn’t seem to be slowing me down, even in a short race like this. Without a hint of cramping in my quads, hamstrings, or calves, I cruised into the finishing chute with a sense of temporary satisfaction. A strong performance with a good result. Perhaps more importantly, I didn’t injure myself in the process. Ultra-man, here we come!
Stats:
Run 1: 21:51. Bike: 38:13 Run 2: 23:01. Good enough for 5 out of 48 overall, 1st out of 4 in my age group. At 34 years old, Winston Guo was the second oldest competitor in the top five.
Lessons Learned:
Those weightlifting sessions are really paying off, especially the squats, dead-lifts, and hamstring curls. Even though the training that I have been doing is at a very low heart rate, the top end speed that I have is not really impacted. Keep hammering the sugar for the half hour before the start of the race (ANY race). Now that you have some good endurance, you can introduce some shorter, big watt intervals.
Our 1st report is from a “rising star” in the local triathlon scene.
The neat thing about our sport is that you can be a rising star at age 62. This is Joe Crocker’s race report from the recent Hypothermic Half-Marathon in Abbotsford. This was his third half-marathon.
I started out feeling a touch nippy out but not too bad. Once I got into my pace it felt much better and did a nice steady pace at about 6 minute K’s for about 6 k. After that point, however, I started to tighten in the quads a little. My pace started to slow down gradually.
I wanted to push through it to test myself but then my knee started to feel quite uncomfortable and after the race it really tightened up. After using ice and heat on it, it felt better. The other thing that the run resulted in was a case of the sniffles and then a full blown cold. It’s not all bad, however, as my wife likes the new deeper voice. Sexy! What I learn from this run was that I still need to run 10 walk 1, and that I need to strengthen my quads.
My next race is not too far from now, it is the Fort Langley Historic Half. I hope to sort out my knee issues so I can get faster, get stronger, and move toward my long-term goals of doing a marathon, gran fondo, and yes – eventually Ironman!