The Return: Challenge Atlantic City 70.3+ Race Report

June 28, 2015 at 6:30 AM. 328 Days, 22 Hours, 14 minutes and 40 seconds.

Brackett stabilizing my neck as the EMTs arrived.

It's been that long since I went from laying in the road in North Berwick with a broken spine to gun time at Challenge Atlantic City, diving into the water to start a 70 plus mile journey back into competing.

Racking the CD0.1.

Months of physical therapy. Months of "actual" therapy with a set of trauma specialists. And a long road back to being something closely resembling an athlete. All coming down to finally just saying, "let's throw caution to the wind and go for it." No better time than the present to toe the line.

Pre-Race
Drove down on Saturday morning with Kelly and arrived in town to a very wet and windy Atlantic City. It was my first time to AC; I was slightly overwhelmed by the mix of Cape Cod beach resort town, casino central, and parking fees that rival downtown New York City.

We grabbed breakfast at a little diner that had excellent pancakes and then rolled over to the expo inside Bally's. It was a bit disorienting to walk through a casino at noon to see the crowd there, as well as the numerous athletes streaming in and out who were trying to prep for the following day's events.

Saw some of the old Rev3 crew working their tails off as always, and then found this waiting for me:

First: I'm a bit perturbed by my USAT age.
Secondly: WHAT AM I DOING!?!?!?!?!?

Had we been smart, we would've put
these up at mile 50 of the course.

At least I had a decent bib number.

Walked around the expo in search of a pump and a flat kit, seeing as between the two of us, we had managed to bring neither item. Procured said items and promptly determined it was time to head towards Bader Field (site of transition) in order to do some work in support of 50 Women to Kona.

We met a few people; handed out a bunch of tattoos, swim caps, and signs; and otherwise had great conversations about equality in the sport over the course of the next hour. Met a few folks that I had only known from Twitter; always nice to be able to put names with faces.

Then it was time to rack up the bikes, pack the bags, and otherwise get ready for the following day. About an hour after we'd headed back, it started pouring. We're talking wrath of God sheets of rain. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.

Race day dawned humid, still with a fair bit of cloud cover and wind about. As long as it stayed cool, which it was forecasted to do, things looked like it would be a day for a fast time.

We arrived at the race site to find Bader Field more like Bader Swamp: the evening downpours had left the field under significant standing water. Transition was a bit of a mud pit, particularly with the long run down the center to bike out. But it appeared that none of the back racks were worse for wear, and things seemed to be running somewhat smoothly.

At 5:40, we received the announcement that we were being pushed back 15 minutes on race start and transition closing; this was in part due to the parking issues caused by the flooding, as well as some delays getting cones set to close down the road out to the Atlantic City Expressway and a lane of the ACE. Perfect opportunity to hit the port-o-john one final time. After all, it was time for some Race Day Magic.

After checking things over in transition a final time, we headed over to the shoreline to discover we'd been pushed back a bit more. Swim safety crews were loading into the water, and from our vantage point it looked like the production crew was trying to get one of the turn buoys set properly in place. Unfortunately, the P.A. system didn't seem to have much capability in relaying information to athletes; it was very difficult to hear anything that was going on.

Finally, we got the go ahead: we'd be taking off. Kelly and I wished each other luck (she, too, was coming back from her own spectacular crash and injury), promising that neither one of us would end up in the hospital today. And then it was time to roll over through to the swim start.

The swim start had been published as a mass start; this wound up being a bit of a misnomer. It was really a time trial start. You walked down the dock, hit the timing mat, and then jumped (feet first required) into the water to begin your day.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much done in terms of seeding swimmers. So it was really just more about who you happened to line up with. I would've liked to have seen either an Age Group seeding or a swim time seeding, simply to give a better flow and cleaner swim to everyone involved. It's never fun to be the slow swimmer being swum over, nor is it fun to be the fast person who is cutting their way through a slower field. Having been both in my tri career (hooray improvement!), I think it'd eliminate some swim anxiety to have that type of set-up in the future.

I was about the 100th person in line. Walk down the dock. Say hi to the Virginia Challenge/Rev3 folks. And time to start to do work.

Race Time

• Swim: 32:28
• Bike: 2:54:08
• "Run": 2:20:54
• Final Time: 5:53:25 

Hopping into the water, I immediately hit the bottom; I was very thankful that the production team had eliminated diving from the proceeding. Using the bottom to push off of, I launched into my first 200 to get a feel for the water and what the swimmers around me were like. Three things came to mind:

1. The swimmers around me were already breast-stroking. Not a good sign.
2. The current was pushing me towards shore. I'd need to fight against it in order to swim into the turn buoy.
3. I couldn't see my hand entering the water in front of me. Which meant it was going to be a "feel and don't grab" exercise to not drown someone.

Swimming along and moving through the earlier starters, I felt good. I could also feel that someone was on my feet, which is a new experience for me. Somebody thought I was good enough to follow! We wound up towing each other the entire swim.

Getting down to the turn buoy, and it was congestion city. Anxiety set in. Although I've been swimming with the guys and gals of 207 Multisport all winter and spring, I was beyond terrified of getting hit in my back. This is, in part, why I'm known as "circle swim guy" at the Westbrook pool. I also can't give enough of a shameless plug to Bill and Fran Shea at New England Family Institute; they do trauma therapy work and were/are instrumental in getting me back on board a bike. 

Coming into the first turn buoy, the thing I'd feared the most happened: the "thwack" of a neoprene-covered arm across my back.

And I felt nothing.

Finally, the last few fears I had about racing again melted away. Now I knew my body could make it through the day; it was just a matter of how much I could extract out of it.

Rounding the turn buoy to head onto the back stretch, I realized that I had zero concept of where the sight buoys were. Challenge decided to utilize red sight buoys and yellow turn buoys, both of which were nowhere to be seen while in the water. I just saw arms splashing up ahead of me and charged in their general direction.

I continued to wind up on the right hand side of where I needed to be, adding some distance to my day in the water. It's always been an issue, particularly in salt water. Something to work on.

Rounding the final turn buoy, me and my fellow stronger swimmer wound up swimming on each other's hip. We motored through the field, heading back into the dock. I couldn't pull myself up onto the ramp (it pinches the discs that are still very much irritated from #OopsIBrokeMySpine), so I got some assistance from a very kind volunteer.

I raced without a watch, simply because I had zero expectations. I was half-expecting a timing clock at the swim exit to have some idea where I was on the day. I was wrong. Ran into Eric Wynn, which was great to be able to see him for the first time in about a year. I overheard a couple people behind me complaining about their swim times, which told me that the day was indeed slow across the board.

Wetsuit off. Helmet on. Sunglasses on. Nutrition together. Let's ride.

Onto the bike, I quickly passed a few of the super swimmers. I spun through the gears pretty quickly as we headed out of Bader Field. One of the few unfortunate segments about the bike was a muddy traverse in order to get out onto the road properly. The Challenge team had tried to address this by laying down some carpet. However, because of how much rain there had been and the amount of rain that had pooled, it had turned into a muddy mess. Ruts were developing. Luckily, having some experience riding a tri bike through these conditions, I knew to pick a line and just charge through it.

As we merged up onto the road, rain started falling again. I relished this opportunity, as cooler weather is right up my alley. I early on made the call that I'd ride comfortably for the first 40 miles before ratcheting up the intensity on the way home. I settled in, making passes and getting passed. It was very, very hard for me to not immediately try and go with people, but I knew that it would be extremely foolish to try and ride harder given my lack of training.

Turning off the Atlantic City Expressway, we went through a residential neighborhood. At one point I hit a pretty decent pothole while in aero that I couldn't see; my sunglasses had fogged so badly that they were proving useless. As it turned out, when I went back into aero, I realized that the pothole hit was bad enough to take the aerobar pad and bend it all the way down to the basebar. Awesome. I'd need to try and modify holding aero position for the remainder of the bike.

By about mile 10, I realized I shouldn't have worn my aero helmet; I just didn't have the strength in my neck to effectively wear the Giro Advantage 2. I'm contemplating moving to a new aero helmet that is significantly lighter. If you have a recommendation, feel free to leave it in the comments!

The bike course was fantastic, outside of those few potholes. It was windy. There were a few moments where I really wasn't enjoying being out there, as my back started to seize up. It was probably an error to not preview the course, simply to know when the wind would switch. But I just kept pushing.

Around mile 30, the sun came out, and the temperature immediately skyrocketed. I could tell it was going to be a long day at the office when I saw the amount of salt that was already caked on my Huub kit. I kept hammering the Skratch Hyper Hydration mix and the margarita flavored Clif Shot Bloks in an attempt to keep my stomach happy and myself out of the med tent.

The aid stations on course were spaced significantly apart from one another, with it essentially being the same aid station passed twice; once at mile 16-18 or so, and then again at mile 40-42. It made for a long time without being able to grab a fresh bottle to cool down. The volunteers themselves were great, knowing exactly how to hold the bottle to be able to roll through the station quickly and still get everything needed. Applause to that crew, for sure.

Unfortunately, my bottle wound up rocketing out of the cages about three miles later, as the cyclist in front of me had a hard time negotiating the trickiest corner on course. This was a decreasing radius right-hand turn into a Wawa, with a large concrete pothole in the middle. He lost his bottle; I had to bunny hop it to not eat shit myself. In the process, I launched my bottle as well as pinch-flatted. To give you an idea on the amount of cursing involved...

I got everything together in what felt like an eternity, and started rolling again. About a mile up the road I came upon a guy who had blown through both of his CO2 cartridges trying to inflate his spare tube. Public service announcement: make sure your spare tube and valve extender are long enough to be able to get the head of the inflator on the valve. This was his problem. Seeing as I had zero expectations on the day, I stopped to help him out and get him going again.

Heading back towards transition, we repeated the stretch through the neighborhood. I came up on a big crash between two athletes; I arrived on site just as the ambulance was arriving. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a minor panic attack. I sat up for the next couple of miles just to get myself back mentally into what I was doing. Right around this time, teammate David Cassidy rolled up alongside of me. It was really good to be able to chat with him for a minute to get myself back in control.

Back onto the ACE and I decided to just pedal like hell. It was hot, my back and neck hurt, and I wanted nothing more than to sit down and get a beer. So the sooner I got off the bike, the more likely it would be that I would actually run. So hard-charging come hell or high water into transition I came. It also didn't help that the bike course was more than two miles long…but not like I could do anything about it.

Off the bike. Running through the grass. OK, this doesn't feel terrible. Rack the bike. Socks on. Shoes on. Backwards hat on. Start to futz with the race belt on my way out of transition. This feels awful but I need to keep moving. Alright, out onto the course. Let's go do this.

I ran the first mile and a half with a guy who, like me, was tall and melting in the now 80+ degree temperatures as we hit the boardwalk. All we could say to each other was, "Well, we could be doing the full in CdA right now…" and just kept trucking.

It was during this next stretch that I came to the realization that I wasn't sweating. The new name of the game was to load up on ice, cool my temperature down, and just move at the fastest rate that my body could tolerate. I also made the (in retrospect, poor) decision to roll my top down off my shoulders in order to be able to cool off and more easily dump ice down my shorts to use the femoral artery for cooling.

Unfortunately, though, the aid stations were set at relatively random intervals from one another. In particular, there was a very long stretch from mile 4 to about mile 7 without anything; this was the stretch that broke me. I started hyperventilating a little bit before reaching the aid station. Having passed out once while racing, and not needing a repeat performance, I power-walked to the station and grabbed just about every cup of ice, water, and Coke they would give me. I kept walking until I could feel the sweat starting to flow again, and then picked right back up where I left off.

The run course itself was a bit diabolical in that you were navigating through the throngs on the boardwalk, while also not being offered much in terms of shade or breeze. I think this is where racing without a watch hurt me a bit; I just didn't have a very good idea where I was mileage wise. It wasn't until I passed back the finish line that I knew I had about 3 miles to go and could just set myself to grind until the finish.

Saw Kelly again about a mile from the finish; she was motoring along well (and she outran me by a fair bit). I threw the kit top back on in the final approach because, hey, better to look pro than to be pro. (Well, that and I had a horrid sunburn.) And crossed the line. Not my fastest. Not my slowest. But I'm back.

Post-race: finished. And not in the medical tent or hospital. HOORAY!

So, to this whole broken back experience, I bid you one final adieu in the form of a picture about three hours post crash:

F*ck you.

Time Bomb: Charleston Marathon Race Report

I *ahem* have a bit of a reputation for blowing up spectacularly in races. If you've been around these parts, you've seen it in the following events: Timberman 70.3 in 2011; Boston Marathon, Rev3 Maine, Rev3 Cedar Point in 2012; the Mid-Winter Classic, Rev3 Quassy (well, different story, but still), and Rev3 Cedar Point in 2013.

That's a lot of races.

Now, many of these were of my own volition. Outside of Boston, the 2011-2012 campaigns were me being an idiot on the bike and faltering on the run as I deserved. Race like a moron, suffer like a moron.

As for 2013: well, the Mid-Winter Classic featured my left calf seizing at the 7 mile mark and gutting it out to the end. Quassy had my infamous vasovagal response. And Cedar Point was a combo of pre-race exhaustion, stress, and nutrition error, coupled with probably being undertrained.

So, piling all that together, we've been working on a lot of different things: work on the nutrition front and discovering some intolerances; a new coach that has been extremely beneficial; a renewed focus on the process and taking joys in the daily training and not just the focus on the race itself. It's been extremely rewarding so far.

When starting to work with John, he wanted to put an early marathon on the calendar. Outside of Boston 2012 (news flash: it was hot as hell), I hadn't raced a marathon. So really, this would be my first serious crack at the distance and really relished the opportunity to set out a new run PR.

Training went well. I had two hiccups along the way. The first was during my elimination diet with Christine: I got incredibly sick as all of the processed foods and caffeine was cut out of my diet. Crushing migraine, fever, you name it, I had it. Knocked me out for a 4 day stretch in November. But I managed to hit all my workouts from there on out, so I felt comfortable with the amount of training.

The second was a little more worrisome. My left Achilles' had started to act up during one of my weekend long runs in December. I took it easy with it and it seemed to calm itself down. However, in my second-to-last long run, that calf/Achilles seized on up at the 14.5 mile mark. I shut that run down and focused on stretching, rolling, massaging, and otherwise keeping that as happy and as loose as I could. The next week was my last hard week, where everything felt decent again. Crisis averted, I thought.

Taper was a good hard cutdown. It felt really good to recover, do some relaxing, and otherwise bounce back from all of the mileage. Based upon the 800 prediction workout, I was in about 3:05-3:07 shape. I thought that it'd be smarter to go a little more conservative and look for 3:10-3:15 out of the race.

And then it was here: go time. We drove down on Friday to Charleston, about 7.5 hours if you don't stop or 8.5 when you have the dog with you. We brought Dylan along and he was a champ.

Saturday AM: wake up. Coffee. Had a scone. Headed over to the race site; holy crap, this race is bigger than I thought. 5000 of us idiots between the half and the full. Good times.

And soon it was time to get into the starting chute. I opted to line-up with the 3:15 pace group. There was no pace group faster than this. Also, I figured it'd be smarter to run conservatively to start off with and then pick up the pace at the end, rather than be all "bank time up front." There's no such thing.

No real warning given; just a "30 seconds to go" mark. Oh, OK, guess I should get nervous now.

Air horn, and away we go.

Everyone takes off. Sizing people up pretty quickly, you get a decent idea as to who is blowing up their 13.1 and 26.2 mile journeys in the first mile. There are some people who are blowing your doors off, huffing. Then there are others who are also blowing your doors off while having a complete conversation about how sick they were earlier in the week, and how they just want to "jog it in under 3 hours." I hate those guys.

Anyways, the first couple of miles along the waterfront are gorgeous. I felt myself very relaxed, just cruising along, ticking off miles between 7:08 and 7:15. Not focused on pace, but instead on the effort. I want this to feel a little too easy, like I have a lot more to give, like I'm not forcing the issue. I want to be able to really start putting the work in at mile 10. I kept reminding myself that I needed to remain conservative.

At about mile 3 we turn away from the water and into the wind. Charleston was getting a good 15-20 MPH wind out of the west to northwest. This meant this 7 mile stretch was directly into the wind. Luckily, the half and the full courses ran with one another to this point, so there was good conversation to be had and a good number of people to help break the wind and pace with.

10 Mile mark reached in 72:55. That was only 41 seconds slower than what I ran the Mid-Winter Classic in last year. But this time, I felt strong rather than stumbling my way on down to the finish. At this point I started to lift my effort ever so slightly. At this point, we split away from the half and onto an out-and-back; two miles down, two miles back. At 11 the mens leader was on his way back. So I was only two miles behind, which really gave me a lift. 12 was a nice clip as well.

Then we turned around and hey, what do you know, here's the headwind again. I look around and realize I'm three minutes up on the 3:15 group. Score! Halfway home and we're still feeling strong. One of the guys I'd been running with decided to put the afterburners on. He said he thought he'd see me again. He was wrong. We meandered our way back towards where we exited, and got a little shield from the breeze.

At 14 we re-joined the half course. It was easy to let the pace drop here, as we really came back into the headwind again and we were mixing in with the 10:00-11:00/mile half athletes. Luckily, it is a four-lane road so it wasn't too crowded. There were four of us in a row making our way through the crowd. I was determined to stick with this group as, after conferring, we were all looking to run about the same time. That and, well, the scenery wasn't so bad, either. (I apologized to Hannah later.)

Mile 16 and we're still ticking along. The half course splits away again. Eight miles up in here and I'll see this point again. Liking it.

We're about to roll towards an aid station when...

The left Achilles goes. It wasn't a pop, or a snap. But something just went right, along with the sudden increase of what felt like something warm, like a rush of blood, to the area. It slows me down immediately. But the pain isn't unbearable. It just sucks.

I take stock of the situation. Every step hurts, but it doesn't stop me. I'm finishing this race.

I hit the aid station and make sure I get some Gatorade, some water, and some of my own calories into me. And we keep running.

At 18 the 3:15 pace group makes its way past me. They're friendly, asking how everyone's holding up. I try with every ounce of my being to stay with them. At first I'm towards the front of the group. I'm grimacing but hanging tough. I start to slide backwards through them as the pain becomes a little more intense. Soon I'm barely hanging on. I'm digging so far down into the depths of pain tears start to roll out of my eyes. I'm grinding my teeth.

And I still fall backwards out of the group and the gap starts to open. I dig further. I'm tempted to scream. But it does no good. They're pulling away.

When the elastic snaps, it snaps. Try as you might, you won't quite get there.

I re-assess. We're 19 miles in. I can survive for 7.2 miles of torture. Each and every step will be a lesson of how far I'm willing to go down the rabbit hole. Give everything you have. Empty the well. Run as fast as you can for every moment.

I grind my way through the next 5 miles. I'm in no-man's-land: I'm faster than the majority of the race but been left behind by the truly fast. I get picked off by three or four people, and pass a few others that had blown up and were walking.

Mile 24 moves us onto a twisting concrete path. This is agony. I contemplate why I do these things in the first place, but immediately find the answer: to learn more about your character and your desire. And dammit, this is fun. Most of the time.

We now move off the concrete and onto a dirt path. Oh, God, my calf is gone. Just chop it off. I won't notice. It can't hurt much worse.

At 25.5 I pick up a guy who looks like he's been miserable for a while. He told me he'd gone out way too hard and has been Gallowalking the last 4 miles. We both were in an equal amount of hell. But one look to one another at that point sealed our fate: we were going to race each other to the line.

It must've been hilarious to watch, as the pace says our "racing" may have been more like crawling. But we were going to leave it all out on the course. He took the lead to start, and then I really put on the gas as we made our third-to-last turn.

I'm pretty sure you can see how miserable I am. Also, OW.

We came into town, weaved around the block, and made it. In the end, I nipped him by two seconds. Final totals: 3:28:49, 85th OA, 10th M25-29.

I crossed the line, immediately cramped on that left side, and had to grab onto the crowd fencing. Managed to work it out enough so that I could take a finisher picture. I then got an immediate ticket to the massage and PT tent, which was awesome. Got me to a point where I could actually move a little bit.

And, of course, the reward for a hard day's work:

Michelob Ultra will never taste this decent again.

Break Free: The Trail to Ale 10K Report

There are few things quite as painful as a 10K.

No, really: this is a distance that just flat-out sucks. There is no better way to describe it. It's too short of a race to really attempt a more disciplined approach, but it's too long to attempt to go balls to the wall. The best way I've heard it described, from my buddy Seth, is that "it's 5K intensity, doubled, and you're praying to hold on."

I've raced a lot this season; a marathon, three half-Revs, the Friday Night Fights series, among others. This little 10K here in Portland was one of the harder events of the year. But it also taught me a valuable lesson:

I can run pretty darn fast, when I just let my mind relax.

Now, for the actual race report:

Gearing Up: The Week Before
Unlike Rev3 Maine, where I was a hurtin' unit for the week afterwards, coming off of Cedar Point I felt good. I was contemplating signing up for another race in the Rev3 series (note: nope, not happening. You'll find out why when I reveal the 2013 race schedule next week.)

I had eased my way back into training with some light-duty stuff, all non-impact: hour long bike, a swim, some weight training. I was tired from the couple of half-distance efforts, but otherwise the body felt very strong, and very good.

I went for my first run following Cedar Point the day before the race, just a nice 30-minute cruise with a couple sets of striders. I didn't know what to expect. I felt a bit tight, especially in the hips. Ruh-roh, Scooby.

So going in, I had absolutely no expectations.

Except, well, there was a matter of pride on the line. In one of my more creative moments, I decided to create a Facebook contest for the store. There were six of us from Maine Running Company involved in the event, including Adam, my friendly rival. The concept was simple: you picked which one of the six you thought would win, and their finishing time. Whoever came closest would win a gift certificate for the store.

I knew there was no chance in hell of me winning, unless I tied the shoe laces of the speedsters together. I mean, I'm not running a 36:XX 10K out of the box. I might be improving, but that just wasn't going to happen.

So my goal was simple: beat Adam.

You see, Adam and I have had a friendly rivalry for a while. It helps push each other to new heights. This started with an open 10K training run last April. Then it stretched into our Beach to Beacon last year, where (depending on who you ask), he beat me, or I beat him. He then proceeded to crush me at Timberman last year, definitively, by nearly 45 minutes. I then returned the favor in the first CompuTrainer battle at Maine Running Company.

We unfortunately didn't get to race each other all that much this year; Adam spent his winter last year in Hawaii that effectively killed his racing budget for the year. (Pity party for the poor fellow, right?) He focused on some running events, whereas I went to town racing triathlons.

It just so happened that there were slots available for Trail to Ale. We both jumped at the opportunity, and the trash talking began.

Well, guess I needed to put up or shut up.

Race Morning
I woke up early, just like I always do on race morning. I consumed my normal breakfast for race day: rice, eggs, and maple syrup (salt and pepper to taste) with my regular 32 ounces of liquid gold known as iced coffee. I'd estimate it at about 450 calories, for those wondering. (1.25 cups of rice, three eggs, 1 tbsp of syrup, coffee is black.)

I snagged a bottle of water, threw on the Rev3 team kit, and headed on out the door. My weaponry of choice for the day:

• Pearl Izumi Elite Tri Top (Rev3 Kit)
• Pearl Izumi Elite Tri Short (no matter what, I'm wearing tri shorts under my running shorts. Anti-chafe mechanism)
• I forget what running short it was
• Rev3 Black Visor (my favorite one of the visors)
• Tifosi Roubaix sunglasses
• Maine Running Company race number belt
• Swiftwick Aspire One socks, size XL (technically, I should be a L. But I like the slight extra forefoot splay from the size up)
• Pearl Izumi IsoTransition (I switched out the insoles in these to the ones from a pair of Mizuno's, just to give a touch of extra arch height underfoot.)

I had thought about my PowerBar Team Elite arm warmers, but made the call to go without about fifteen minutes before the start.

We met Adam down at the Ocean Gateway terminal. We headed out for a warm-up run of about two miles, just to shake the cobwebs out. I still felt tight, but things seemed to be improving the more I moved. I also did a set of striders, and that's when I felt the best, so I started getting some confidence that I'd be able to run decently.

Made it to the top of the hill at the start line around quarter to 9 (gun time). Ran into fellow MRCers Jon, Joey, Nick, and Maggie, who all were part of the six-pack challenge. Jon and Joey lined up on the start line. Adam, Nick, and I were about four rows back. Maggie was mid-pack.

Everything queued up, the race clock was readied, and we were ready to fly. Weird to not have a countdown to start. Just a runners set, *BOOM*, and time to go!

Race Breakdown: The Quick Hits
Gun Time: 41:15
Net Time: 41:13
Pace: 6:38/mile
Overall Place: 65th
Age-Group Place: 6th
MRC Competition Place: 4th

This year, they moved the course around a little bit at Trail to Ale. It started on top of the Eastern Promenade, went uphill a bit, then screamed downhill towards Back Cove. You completed one lap around Back Cove Trail, then looped back by East End Beach for the finish line.

This meant that you'd start out super fast, have some slight uphill around the Cove at mile 4, then uphill on the I-295 overpass until the end of mile 5, roll by the sewage treatment plant right around the same time you wanted to vomit anyways from the effort and the hill right there, and then have a big downhill to find your stride into the finish.

The gun went off, and immediately Nick, Jon, Joey, and Adam dropped me like a bad habit. I went to keep the gap for the first tenth of a mile. I then tried to take account of how I felt.

Damn, this feels fast! was all I remember thinking. So I glanced at my watch really quickly: 5:22/mi pace.

UH OH.

I immediately backed off the throttle. I couldn't sustain that kind of effort. I might've been able to crank out a mile, mile and a half, and then would have blown up so spectacularly I would've been scattered all over greater Portland.

I settled into a good groove, heard that a couple people around me were looking for around 42 minutes, and just hung in there. Considering all of my speedwork for the year had been focused more for longer distance events, I didn't think anything much faster than 6:50/mile pace would be happening.

Even with me settling in, the first mile went by in 6:11. That's a lot of downhill to work with. OK, no biggie.

Adam was a good 200 meters up the road. I just said to myself, "reel him in, each and every mile. No need to go and get him at mile 2." This was in opposite of our Beach to Beacon experience last year, where I went out and made a move at mile 2, had a lead, and he caught me with less than a mile to go, and we sprinted together for the finish. Later on, Adam told me his game plan was "out of sight, out of mind."

The first water stop was also the last one. I went to reach for water, but they were using the tiny Dixie cups. It just exploded in my hand. Note to self: needed to pinch the cups from the top. Adam was still hauling tail in front of me.

I could still see him as we got into mile 2. The person next to me was saying he didn't see the mile 1 sign before, so he felt really good seeing the two sign early. Works for me!

We made the curve at the soccer fields by Back Cove. I saw that Adam's gap on me had shrunk, so at the turn I counted out his lead: eleven seconds. Cool, I just need to go three seconds a mile faster than him and I can get him around mile 5.5, and may the best man win there.

Apparently, I went through the next mile a bit quicker than he did, as all of a sudden I was right behind him. I panicked for a second: have I gone too early again? I made the call to settle in again, let him lead for a little bit. I don't know if he knew it was me that was five steps behind him, but the pace quickened slightly again.

We ran together for the next mile, him just ahead of me on the right side. We then started a slight rise on the back side of Back Cove, which is about 4 miles into the race. This is where I said, you know, I don't want to turn this into a sprint finish at the end. He's been doing track work all year. He's got better top end speed than me. I need to go here and now.

I swung out a little wide, ran with three strides side-by-side, and then just kicked as we went over the rise and slight downhill. I ran scared; I didn't know where he was and I wasn't looking back. I just wanted to push through this surge. Came through the next water stop, got a quick cup of water, and started plugging away again.

The Cove then rises again. If there's one thing I need to really work on, it's being able to keep top-end speed going uphill. I've gotten better, but there's still room for some massive improvement. It was here that I figured if my move hadn't worked well, Adam was going to catch up again.

There were some friendly faces on the side of the road right here, and they started cheering for me. I kept waiting for them to say something to Adam, but they never did. Huh. He's either the feet right behind me in full on stealth mode, or the move stuck. I fought the urge to look behind me; the course was about to make a hair-pin turn and I'd be able to find out where he was anyways.

I went onto the overpass, trying to ignore my hamstring, which wanted to fall apart. Around the corner I went, and looked up.

Holy shit. He's just cresting! I've got a whole bunch of room!

I threw on the jets then and there. No way was I giving in now.

The course then rounded by the sewage treatment plan, and oh yes, it reeked to high heaven. There's also the last hill of the course to contend with, and the combination is vomit-worthy. I fought back the urge.

Bounding down the hill, I didn't realize that the finishing chute was so short away from there. I kicked as hard as I could. I thought it was further than it was, but hey, whatever! I blasted through the finish line.

Hey, who's that guy in the Rev3 kit who ran that quick?

Boom. Stick.

Adam came across the line 30 seconds later. We had pushed each other to brand new heights: this was nearly a five minute race PR for me (2:35 faster than any 10K I've run, race or training), and a 1:40 PR for Adam.

We had our rear ends handed to us by our co-workers, as Jon ran 36:20, Joey 38:15, Nick 39:45. But hey, a good day all-around.

The reward for such an effort? Free pizza and beer.

Later that day, I really got tired. I mean, nap during football games tired. If you know me, I don't fall asleep when I get the opportunity to watch football. So I was beat. Hence part of the concept of ending the race season here.

I'd like to, as always, thank all of the sponsors, friends, family, etc. that help get me on through!

Great way to cap off a banner year. I've taken an hour off of my half-distance time. I've taken five minutes off my 10K PR. What a season.

What does next year hold? Check back later this week!

2012 Rev3 Quassy HalfRev Race Report

Alternative Title: Leave your legacy through effort.


There is something magical about this place. I don't know if it's the fact that this is the site of my first triathlon, something in the water, or what have you. But there is a special vibe that is alive in Quassy the first weekend of June. You see it on the faces of the volunteers, the workers, the athletes, and the families. It just feels right.


As always with race weekend reports, we'll go through the full run down of pre-race, the race, and post-race moments.

Thursday: The Driving Day
We packed up our car on Thursday morning, knowing that when I got out of work Thursday evening we'd be heading on down to Connecticut. We made the mistake the previous year, as well as Boston this year, of traveling on the 2nd day before the race. It doesn't do much to put my mind at ease when you are doing all that scrambling around, so we decided instead to move travel up an evening. It wound up working perfectly, as we missed a lot of traffic as well as having little to no anxiety about what I needed to do the following day.

Hannah, being the amazing woman that she is, picked me up a burrito from our Whole Foods (mmmm...steak burritos), and away we went on down. We drove to Harem House, the code-name for Sam and Matt's place in Ellington. Sam and Matt are our wonderful friends who put on a phenomenal tailgate at the Hartford Dave Matthews Band shows. We don't see them enough, so we decided to invade their place for an evening. It put us 30 minutes outside of Newington (where we'd be staying for the full weekend), and only an hour from Quassy.

Friday: New Bike Day
Yes, you are reading a race weekend report. And yes, you are reading that correctly.

New Bike Day.

Kermit the Felt unfortunately has two carbon issues; one on a chainstay, the other on the opposing seatstay. I'm guessing that one went first (I'm thinking the chainstay, just based on my estimation of how and why) and the seatstay started to go due to the increased loading. He's heading off for repair soon enough, and when he comes back odds are I will be turning him into an aero road bike.

So, Friday we headed to Thomas and Janet's place in Newington, to invade them for the second weekend in a row. (We stayed with them over Memorial Day weekend.) Why invade again and stay that far outside of the race venue?

Being able to cook your own meals. I am pretty particular when it comes to my food pre-race, so I wasn't about to start changing routine now. So we did our grocery shopping, unpacked a little bit, and then headed on down to Quassy.

We arrived to find things already in full-swing: packet-pickup for the Olympic distance race on Saturday; volunteer check-in; bike racking; expo taking place. Lots of positive and nervous energy from everyone involved. It's electric.

Right out of the gate, started running into some of the Team Rev3 crew. Found Jen Small in the parking lot, Laura Mount patrolling on the golf cart, Alex and Jill Poon at the expo, Jamie Bull and Jaime Dix chatting away...just to name a few instances!

I then ran into Charlie, aka the Boss. We chatted for a few, and then he directed me on over to the Blue Competition Cycles area, where I met Scott. Scott fit me aboard the new whip, tinkering with a few fit parameters, and after a little bit of riding, checking angles, etc., we were done.

Meet Wallace:

Let's get the SlowTwitch joke out of the way: Yes, my seat's too high.

Why Wallace? Well, much like how Kermit was named, it was another one of those things that ties into some back story with my late father-in-law, Peter. A big fan of Wallace and Gromit, one year I drew Peter for Secret Santa. To make a long story short, I got him a gag gift of a Wallace figurine. And considering Wallace is such a cheese fan, and the Blue is yellow...you get the idea.

With that out of the way, we then headed over to the volunteer tent, to get our positions for the following day. Hannah and I were both course marshals for the Olympic. We did this for two reasons: one, to help out for a race series that has done so much for me personally; two, we wanted to get used to the whole "wake up at 0 dark thirty, get on the road to Quassy ASAP" routine.

It was now high time to head on down to the team dinner. We meet up with Ryan, Jamie, Anthony, Elaine, Jordan, and respective significant others at an Italian place in Woodbury. This place has phenomenal pizza. Hannah and I split a clams casino pizza that was divine. It was great to hang out, chat with everybody, get to know these folks that we've been chatting back and forth via e-mail since October, and really just relax.

We headed on back to Newington, and settled on down. Got all of the gear that I would need for the following day packed up, and then crashed for the evening.

Saturday: The Deluge Day
We woke up Saturday morning to discover the skies had opened. It was pouring. As in, it hurt to walk outside pouring.

We somehow managed to convince Thomas that he, too, should volunteer for the Olympic. And it was a good thing; there were spots that needed to be covered! Thomas wound up working transition. We headed over to our location: the exit of the park onto Route 64.

Every single racer would be passing by us three times: once to make the left out onto the bike course; another time taking a right back into transition; and finally, heading out onto the run course. So we were going to need to be loud, enthusiastic, and emphatic.

My goal with this turn was to make sure nobody ate it at the start or the end of their ride. There were a couple of massive potholes concealed by the overnight rain, so we set out a couple of cones heading out of transition. We had our racers head out by keeping the cones to the left of them heading out, ensuring they wouldn't hit this massive hole on the way out and up to a pretty significant hill.

Then, on the way back in, you would descend this very hill before making the hard right into the park again. I decided to sacrifice my own voice for both tasks: I took the lead position out in front of each turn to be able to warn athletes of what was coming. Heading out of town, it was "OUT AROUND THE CONE, THEN LEFT!" Coming down, everyone heard "SLOW! CHECK YOUR BRAKES, DOWN THE HILL, THEN RIGHT!"

It was cold and wet, but we tried to keep it fun. The police officers there were a hoot to chat with. The toughest part was not keeping the athletes on path and upright, but instead making sure the shuttles and pedestrians weren't cutting into where the race was taking place. I got a few glares for asking people to head down the hill to use the crosswalk into the park, but outside of that it was pretty simple to get the task done.

And nobody fell! That was my biggest positive for a job well done: no injuries at our corner. On a day with those conditions, I felt like it was our biggest victory.

After volunteer shifts ended, I made my way around the park again to start my preparations for Sunday. I needed to pick up my packet, get my timing chip settled away, and then see if team kits had made it to the park. I went two for three; unfortunately, no kits made it. But hey, it happens. And I was still rocking the big blue R on my visor; I wore Pearl Izumi's; had my Swiftwick socks;  did a swim test in a blueseventy Helix (amazing!); used PowerBar products; checked out the NormaTec boots (I cannot wait for these...)...all of our sponsors were absolutely fantastic this weekend.

I then set out on a quick pre-race brick: a nice light spin, followed by a quick run involving three pace efforts faster than race pace. I did the spin on the first/last five miles of the bike course, and then the run I did basically mile 9, 12, and 13 of the run course. I just wanted to run recon of knowing where I'd be able to push, when I'd need to settle in, etc.

Once we got Wallace checked into my spot (#950, right by the bike entry/exit, almost next to the pro racks) it was time to head on up to Newington, enjoy my pasta dinner, pack my gear bags, and get ready to go.

Sunday: Game time.
One of the last minute decisions I had made on Saturday night was that I was going to tape a message onto the bike. I opted for two lines: one for pacing purposes, the other from the Ray Lewis video I posted in the pre-race report.

I'm pissed off for greatness.

Hour 1: Easy. Hour 2: Push. Hour 3: GO!

Going into a long-course race on a difficult course, I knew that I was capable of really improving on my 6:14 from the year before. I also knew that it'd be tough to go an hour faster than the year before, but I thought it was within reach. Also knowing with where I was fitness wise, that a 5 hour race was capable if everything went "as planned." Of course, nothing EVER goes to plan in an event like this. So heading out on Sunday, I presumed that my finishing range would be 5:12-5:27.

Heading into transition Sunday morning, I ran into Charlie again.

Charlie: "Hey, where's your race kit?"
Me: *sigh*
Charlie: "KIDDING!"
Me: "You know, I feel really relaxed..."
Charlie: "It's how we roll...got my mind on my money and my money on my mind..."
Me: *laughing*...ah, man...what a weekend.

It was weird; normally on race mornings I am a nervous wreck. But I was focused, calm this year. I had some things to do (threw a cage on the aerobars, rather than on the downtube of the bike; wiped Wallace off, lubed the chain, inflated tires, taped down my message, etc.). My stomach is also normally a nightmare race morning, but it too was calm. 

As I was gearing up, I got a quick tap on my shoulder, asking to use my pump. I turn around and see Tim DeBoom, two-time Ironman World Champion. "Sure! Go right ahead!"

Yes, that really happened. Photo courtesy of Rev3Tri.

(As a side note...he left his crack pipe in my pump. So, Tim, if you're reading this...a mailing address and I can get that back to you.)

Once Tim was done, it was time to pack it all on up, give the last of the unneeded gear to Hannah, and head down to the waterfront for the swim start. Got a quick practice swim in of about 40-50 strokes out and back, just to get comfortable, and be ready for my wave. We were going early this year, so not a super crowd to have to swim through. And then it was go time.

Shuffling on down to the swim start. 1056 athletes hit the water today.

Toes on the water's edge.

One minute. You can hear your heartbeat in your head. Calm. You've been here before.

Thirty seconds. Deep breath. Get your googles on.

Fifteen seconds. You've done the work. Trust it. You got this!

GO!!!

Quick Hits:

5:25:59

17th in AG, 204th Overall

Swim Time: 36:19

Place in Division: 26

It was a quick dash into the water. One of the cool things about Quassy is how quickly the water gets deep. You might dolphin dive twice before you're swimming like hell. 

I sprinted out for the first 200 meters or so, just trying to find a little clear water, but nothing was to be had. I took a foot to the face early that knocked my googles off. Had to take a second to let them settle, and then took off again. The left one never wound up sealing quite right so I was going to contend with a little water in my sight. No matter.

One of the things I had noticed from the beach was that the swim had changed a bit from the previous year; it was much further out to the first turn buoy than it was the year before, then a shorter stretch into the sun before turning back for home. It felt like it was a long, long way. But I felt like I was swimming well; passing many swim caps of the previous waves while not seeing any of the waves coming up through me.

I turned for home and just buried the throttle a little bit. I wanted to try and make sure I was in good position coming into transition. The year before almost all of the bikes in my racking area were already gone by the time I came back. So when I came out of the water, looked at my watch, and saw 36:02 staring me in the face, I could only say one thing:

SHIT!

I sprinted up the hill, grabbed a cup of Gatorade, and got into gear.

T1: 2:51

I had my wetsuit halfway off by the time I had run to my spot in transition. I felt a little bit better when seeing so many bikes still on the rack from my AG. 

I got my wetsuit down to my calves, then used my hand to pull it off over my foot. Helmet had my sunglasses and gel flask in it. Helmet on, shades on, put my bike shoes on. I am piss-poor at performing a flying mount; it's faster for me to run out of transition with the bike shoes on, get over the mount line, get to the side, step over, and clip in once. Two crank revs get me up to enough speed to clip the left one on; quick pedal, and off on the bike course we go!

Bike: 2:46:42, 20.13 MPH

Place After Bike: 9th

As we said before, we had that pacing piece stuck on the bike. Last year's mistakes were not going to be repeated. I also knew that my stomach needed to settle down a little more before starting to hit the nutrition. So for the first 20-30 minutes it was just being smart; don't cook too hard out of the gate. Passed one Rev3 teammate (I think it was Ryan, but not sure...) by the time we hit the first turn, and then just started to settle in.

The first 23 miles of the bike course here roll a fair bit. You also get the steepest climb of the whole day out of the way right quick at about mile 10 or so. So then you just keep rolling along. One thing that I noticed was that the road surfaces were pretty good, with the occasional couple of pieces of glass on the far, far right of the lane. I just kept an eye out for it and made adjustments as necessary. As long as you were about a foot off the edge of the shoulder, you were fine.

You then get an absolutely screaming descent into Thomaston. This is where I had my nutrition issues the year before. Nothing today. Still sipping away on my combination of PowerBar Perform and Gels. I went with two bike bottles mixed to regular concentration (approx. 340 calories combined between the two of them), along with four gels in a flask with a bit of water. I went with three Kona Punch and one Tangerine, just for a mix in the taste as well as a little bit of caffeine. This gave me a total of 780 calories for the ride to use as I saw fit.

I took water at each aid station, with a little bit going into my mouth and then a fair bit over the head and on the legs to make sure we were keeping cool. I was feeling pretty good.

It was at about the hour mark that I finished the descent into Thomaston. A bunch of us reached for nutrition, and I called out, "Let's get it in now, boys, we've got a long climb ahead of us! Time to do some work!" A few of us were ready to start the climbing so we moved ahead, while others were dropping back, either grumbling about the guy in the good mood about the climb, or how they were going to have to run after this.

Miles 23 to 30 of the bike course are pretty unrelenting. This is why I've put in a lot of work going up and over Dutton Hill, or Blackstrap Road, or anywhere else I could find some climbing. I knew I would need it here. My biggest fear was the new gearing on Wallace: he featured an 11-26 cassette, versus the 12-25 that I'd been used to. Would I want those gears that are on the 12-25 that aren't there on the 26?

Nope. The shifting was absolutely flawless. One thing I had to get used to was the heavy action on the SRAM TT900 shifters, and the loud, crisp pop of a shift in the rear. But it worked perfectly. So when we got to climbing, there was no flexing; there was no issue. It was just time to go and put in the work. This was hour two, after all: it's time to make a push.

About halfway up the climb is when fellow Rev3 team member Tim Andrus showed up. This was exactly where I thought he'd get me based on his and my projected swim and bike times. The kit is pretty recognizable, as is his Shiv. As it turns out, Tim's Shiv wouldn't shift at all in the rear. So his choice for gears were either 50/13 or 34/13. Not good on this course!

We had a brief conversation as we climbed together. He started to pull away a touch, and I wished him luck in his race. (He wound up going 4:44, the turd. Guess I need to put in some serious work before Maine.) As soon as it flattened out, he was gone.


I finished the climb up over at mile 30, and started to really feel like I was in a good groove; kept the nutrition flowing, effort still feeling pretty easy. Wanted to keep the effort to a point where it didn't feel like I was pushing all that hard; just a good, comfortable pace that was sustainable. I never really looked at the Garmin; I just used the overall time clock I had on my Timex pushing me a bit.

Miles 35-40 are on an out-and-back stretch. This is where I started to pour it on a little bit. A fellow athlete named Keith and I seemed to keep trading spots back and forth; he'd get away on the downhills and flats, but I'd reel him back in on the uphills. Not because I was pushing the uphills, mind you, but simply due to momentum; he revealed he had 15 pounds on me. It helped keep the pace honest between the two of us, as we'd follow the drafting rules and just keep on moving along. There weren't many athletes near us; just the two of us, trading back and forth in spots. He'd be up for a couple of minutes, then I would be, and vice versa. The drafting official came by us three or four times, and we'd check over, he'd wave on the driver, and away we went. He nailed a pack in front of us about a minute later, though, so drafting was definitely enforced.

At about mile 50 I stomped on the gas. I wanted to get some distance on some people behind me. (As it turns out, Keith was also in my age group. Had I known, I would've mirrored him heading into transition.) Saw fellow Sustainable Athlete Brett Helstedt out on the run already. He was COOKING. (He wound up well under five hours as well.)

I made my way up the hill, got out of my Tri Fly IV Carbon's, and dismounted the bike quickly, and ran into transition again.

T2: 1:57
I made sure to be quick. Re-racked the bike. Got my SwiftWick socks on, and then my shoes. Stuffed my two flasks into my pockets: one full of flat Coke, the other with the same gel combination. Nabbed a water at the first aid station, and was running with my race number belt, putting it on as I went. Time to move!

Run: 1:58:10 (8:48/mile)
Position: 17th in Age Group
I blew out of transition, feeling really good. I wanted to get out of there with some good miles under my belt at a comfortable pace. The last few runs I had done I'd been averaging well under 7:30 pace off the bike, so I wanted to try and run about 7:50 here.

I wound up blowing through the first 5K in 21:40. Oops.

I had frozen my Coke flask overnight in the hopes that when I picked it up for the run, it'd still be cold. Not so. It was hot, hot, hot. Not good. I was also trying to take in the gels and my stomach had had enough of that. At the third aid station I dumped both of the flasks. No point.

So I was going to hit every aid station, go for Coke and water, and just go like hell when I could. The problem, of course, is not being a great running climber. It's frustrating, because you see these people making these hills out to be nothing, where it feels like you are stuck in quicksand. This isn't a "you overcooked the bike" thing, because even when completely fresh running hills is problematic. I'm just not quite there yet. I will get there.

Anyways, I knew I had banked some reserve time up with the way I ran the first few miles. So the middle miles, when it was so tough climbing, I tried to just preserve my legs for the forthcoming downhills, flats, and the monster that is the last mile. I made sure I got my nutrition in. I made sure to get myself cooled off. I saw some 25-29 legs go by, but I also knew I'd be able to reel a couple of them back in later on.

Still, my stomach wasn't happy with me. As we came down past the Nelson "HA HA!" sign (yes, Charlie actually put that sign out there on one of the tough hills...sick man, he is), I was having to fight back a little vomit. I just needed to keep going.

Coke. Water. No more Gatorade. No more gels.

I figured it out on Tranquility Road that the best thing for me was to take water at the first spot, tear it open, get some on me, grab a Coke at station three, water it down which also eliminated any remaining carbonation, get it down, splash a little water in my mouth, rinse, dump rest on body, and go.

As we came back onto Route 64 I ran into Scott, who had fit me for the bike on Friday. We chatted for a minute, and then I pulled away. I was still moving, and moving well. Sure, some were passing me, but I was passing others, too. And I wasn't seeing any more 25-29 calves coming up behind me; instead, I was nicking one or two off. And see, I even looked pretty good, especially compared to last year in this same spot:

Keep running, fool. Four miles. Four measly miles.

The worst part of this course, IMO, is not the last hill. No, it is the out and back you have to do before you get to go up that hill. It's hard to have to be going out that far, and knowing that you have to go back and run that same aspect again. I think it'd be mentally less challenging to not have to do that loop so late in the game. But, it's that challenge that is part of the experience.

Last aid station I got my little bit of calories in, and it was time to go. Make the move. Leave your legacy through effort. I'm pissed off for greatness. I saw at the last aid marker that I was at 5:17 total time. I made the call there that I would not let that watch see 5:26. So I had 9 minutes to make that climb happen, and sprint it on home.

The climb is gentle slope at first, and then it turns, gets steep, and then flattens out as you head back to Quassy. I took it easy at the start, made it halfway, gave it more gas, felt I had more to give, and then just stomped on it. I was GOING. And there was no way in hell anybody else was getting past me.

It was hellacious footing coming down the finishing chute due to all of the rain from the day before. But it made it fun coming home.

Watch stopped: 5:25:59. Made it.

Remember, the time above my head is time from the pro start...so not my time.
But man, oh man, is it awesome to get over that line...

Glory. There is nothing, NOTHING like finishing a race like this.

Post-Race
I met up with Tim, Anthony, and Ryan...sounded like everyone had had a good race. I needed to lie down and cool off a bit more, so I headed for the picnic tables in the shade. I changed out of my racing gear, and got into some clean clothes. After hanging around the expo for a bit, we said our goodbyes and headed on out.

We picked everything up, got into the car, and away we went. The car ride did NOT. FEEL. GOOD. Stomach was still pretty unhappy with me. We got to Newington, and as we were headed inside I felt that familiar, "Yep, you're not going to like this" moment from my stomach. I made it to the sewer grate before promptly vomiting out the combination of Coke, Perform, and whatever else was in my stomach.

No, I didn't take photos. But it did happen.

I immediately felt about 20 times better. We hung out for a bit, got some dinner (my traditional entire pizza, order of wings, and cheesy bread consumed). We had to pack the car, and somehow manage to get two bikes, and all our luggage, inside our car.

Two bikes. four suitcases, four other bags. SUCCESS!

We then drove home, listening to the Celtics win, and I got my beer when we got home.

Conclusion
Overall, I am incredibly happy with how this weekend went.

First and foremost, I can't believe I'm a part of such a caring, welcoming organization. It's truly an honor and a privilege to be representing Rev3, Pearl Izumi, NormaTec, blueseventy, PowerBar, Blue Cycles, SwiftWick, SBR Sports...I'm incredibly grateful. And to all of my teammates, some of whom I didn't even get to meet when we were here! Guess I'll have to see some of you here in Maine! (And yes, we still have space available if you want it...)

Secondly, I need to thank my coach, Doug, for putting in my in a position to shave 49 minutes off of my previous time here. 49 MINUTES. That's insane. In one year!

Thirdly, to my lovely wife: gosh, I can't believe you put up with me...you have by far a tougher job and you do such an amazing job at it. I love you.

As for the race itself: well, to put that time together is a feat, me thinks. I know that there's still work to be done. But I am damn proud of executing that race the way I wanted to. I put it together. I had a complete race. The chips fell where they did. I couldn't have gone any faster on Sunday than I did. Which means I left all my effort out there. I'm feeling it, too: sleeping 9-10 hours each night. I earned that time.

Damn, what a rush. Can't wait to do it again.

Miss the Misery...

Alternate title: "You're just a slut for punishment, aren't you?" (A quote from fellow Maine Running Company employee, Ben Webber, after hearing that I wanted to race again so soon after the disaster-debacle known as my experience at Rev3 Quassy).

After having a week to look back at what happened during the race experience, there's an awful lot that I'm still happy about. But, in the recesses of my mind, I've got a fair bit of disappointment lying around, too. After all, when you're shelling out between $260-$300 a race at the half-iron distance, you want to maximize the potential value of the day. (Some would argue, of course, that by staying on course longer, you actually maximized your money's worth, as it was cheaper by hour out there compared to others. I digress.)

For myself personally, I think I've identified four major things that, going into Timberman 70.3, need to be improved upon in order to ensure that another Rev3 result does not occur:

NUTRITION

This, obviously, was the big downfall at Rev3. Once I got behind on the calorie count on the bike, I never was able to catch back on up. Now, I don't ever foresee another situation with the heart-rate monitor happening quite like that again. But, analyzing my choices for both liquid and solid nutrition, I think I may have also set myself up for a bit of a long day.

To review, for the bike the game plan was as follows:

2 bottles: Ironman Perform mixed with 1.5 scoops of CarboPro (300 calories per bottle)

1 HoneyStinger Honey Waffle: 160 calories

Total: 760 calories, at 2:45 average time works out to roughly 280 cal/hour pace

This seemed sound: after all, it worked in training. Why the hell wouldn't it work on race day?

Well...now it's time to get a little scientific with everybody, so bear with me for a minute. And...well, just watch the video. Then come on back...

...yes, blatant Marty McFly interlude......done? Good.

So, let's take a quick look at the composition of both Ironman Perform and Carbo-Pro.

Ironman Perform: C2Max energy blend (maltodextrin, fructose, dextrose), citric acid, trisodium citrate, natural flavor, salt, magnesium citrate, potassium citrate, turmeric (for color).

Carbo-Pro: Glucose polymers derived from hydrolysis of maltodextrin

Analysis: First and foremost, we're talking about three separate needs during the course. We need to be replacing fluids lost via sweat/urination; we need to be replacing the electrolytes in the system; and we must be replenishing the glycogen available to muscles to continue using it as fuel. For the uninitiated, glycogen is what the body stores carbohydrate as; when somebody says that they are "carb-loading," they mean that they are trying to maximize their glycogen stores.

Breaking down further: hydration needs are an entirely independent sort-of inquiry. For some people, they need to be downing 30-40 oz. of fluid per hour while out there. That doesn't work for me in the least. I can handle about a bike bottle per hour while out there. That's approximately 20-24 oz. of fluid per hour. (Note: I only managed to put down about 10-12 oz. per hour at Rev3 on the bike. And we wonder why I med-tented it.)

IM Perform is also pretty high in a fair number of the electrolytes. There are five key electrolytes that are lost during endurance activity. Most people only focus on sodium, but the other four are potassium, chloride, calcium, and magnesium. They're all necessary to keep the body functioning at a high level during intense athletic activity. As you look at IM Perform, you see potassium, salt, and magnesium, but a bit lacking in chloride and calcium. Why? Often times, it's a matter of digestion: in order to get calcium into a drink such as this, you will regularly need to be adding some kind of dairy extraction into the mix. You can imagine how palatable that would be on a 90 degree day. Other drink mixes do, however, manage to do this (First Endurance being one of the primary examples).

So now we come to carbohydrate, and this is where things get a bit tricky. There are both simple and complex carbohydrates (also referred to as short-chain versus long-chain carbohydrates). Simple carbohydrates are your primary sugars, like glucose, sucrose, and dextrose. These are quick-burning, and easily absorbed by the body. However, it's much like throwing gasoline on a fire: you get a quick, explosive effect, but the body burns through it rapidly, and you're back to where you started from.

Long-chain carbohydrates, meanwhile, are a more refined fuel: think of it more like putting that big log on the fire instead of the gasoline. You'll get a much longer, more sustained burn out of it. However, it takes the fire some work to get on that log: it's going to have to bring in enough oxygen from the outside in order to keep the original burn strong enough to light the log, before finally being able to penetrate and start burning the large log. Much the same in the body: it's going to take some work for your gut to be able to process a longer-chain carbohydrate, but when it does, you get sustained energy. But if there's not enough energy available to start that log on fire...well, things can start getting bad quickly. Nevermind getting into the osmolality of the solution (essentially, you want the solution to be at a lower osmolality than body fluid, so that it can process through your system easier).

So, what do we take from this? Why would this drink mix work during training, but not during racing? I think it is mostly due to the composition of the carbohydrate in the drink mix. Because IM Perform's C2Max energy blend is more long-chain than short-chain carbohydrate, I was essentially taking in nothing but longer-chain carbohydrates during the course. This meant that I needed to have things low enough out of the gate that my body would be able to process this. Well, here's the rub: my heart-rate coming out of the water was going to be much, much higher than that of when I was doing a normal training ride. I didn't have enough energy available to transfer blood to my gut and start processing the fuel; when that happened, I got backed up, nauseated, and then behind the eight-ball. I also didn't have enough short-chain carbohydrate on board the bike to try and get things rolling again.

So, then, it's no surprise that at about the one hour mark on the bike (or about 90 minutes into the race), I was going to have to slow down a bit: your body only has enough glycogen storage for 90 minutes of activity. This meant that the body would start using fat as fuel instead, which means the heart-rate must come way, way down. So, when reviewing my data from the race, it wasn't a shock to see my average heart-rate drop down to the 135 BPM mark at the one hour mark on the bike, down from the 150/155 mark that I was planning on racing at all day long. This also marked a pretty heavy departure from the 20.5 MPH I was averaging on the bike down to 14-16 MPH.

So, to review: I was too heavy on long-chain carbohydrate, and did not have the tools on hand in order to put the wheels back on once they started coming off.

This. Will. Not. Happen. Again.

What to do, then? Well, I'm looking into new drink mixes. The First Endurance stuff listed above intrigues me the most, as it is a bit higher than most other mixes in the five electrolytes. It is also a different sugar blend (higher in short-chain carbohydrates), which I think, when mixed with Carbo-Pro, would make a better solution. I do like Hammer's HEED for taste, but unfortunately it isn't high enough in sodium for my needs, and it too is fairly high in maltodextrin. I'm also planning on a contingency plan of GU Roctane, or incorporating it a bit more. Perhaps 200 calories of drink per hour supplemented by a gel. I'm also debating implementing a 600 calories "slurry" bottle (essentially, a concentrated mix of the electrolyte and carbohydrate drink), and then having a separate bottle for my hydration needs. Undecided. Luckily, I have some time to figure it out.

SWIM FORM

Although I had myself a pretty solid swim at Rev3, I also realized that a bunch of my fellow age groupers are a HELL of a lot faster here than I am. So, it's time to hit the water. During the build to Quassy, I thought that I had done a good enough job getting into the pool. Well, I did but I didn't: although I had good fitness, I think my form limitations made me have to work a bit harder to get that swim time.

To be blunt: I need to work on technique as much as I do aerobic capacity. The better my form is, the faster I go, with less energy exerted. The fresher I can come out of the water, the better; then, the lower my heart-rate is coming out of the water, the better off my nutrition gameplan can go.

I know I can swim faster; the question is, can I swim faster while exerting less energy? That, too, I believe can be answered in the affirmative. It's just going to take a lot more work.

BIKE FIT

This isn't to say that my bike fit was wrong. To the contrary, Doug Welling and I had decided to go a bit conservative with my fit at the outset.

The thing is, we both think I've outgrown it. By that, I mean I can definitely ride a more aggressive position than I could have just a couple of months ago. So we're going to go aggressive with my fit, and try to lock in a better aero position on the bike. We will also make the final determination for pad reach, etc. and cut things down. It's time to make this bike mine, and mine alone.

I'm also looking into gearing and crank length. However, considering my run time off the bike was not nearly as catastrophically terrible as one would suggest with the bonking that I did do, perhaps things are where they should be. (For those wondering, I am riding a 175 mm crank, 53/39 chainrings, with a 12-25 cassette. I MAY switch to a 12-27. We'll see. It may also be more effective to go to a compact crank. But again, not sure as of yet.)

BIKE FITNESS

To make this long story short: more hills, please. More time in the saddle. A few more light brick workouts (35 mile ride, short run afterwards.) I think this is where I have the most overall to gain. I'm happy with my running ability; I know I can run a 1:38 open 13.1. I also know I can hold that pace pretty decently, even when the wheels come off. So it's the bike where I have more to gain.

Overall, then, I think I've had the time, and the patience, to look critically at how Rev3 went. Now it's time to put the work into Timberman. This week is my "ease back into things" week, meaning I'll start a little bit of swimming, biking, and running. Next week is a full-on recovery week, where the intensity stays quite low, but I get back to normalcy. Then it's time to crank up the wick, and start the fun back into Timberman.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? As always, post a comment and I'll respond.

Get out there, have fun...and be ready to work!

Rev3 Quassy Race Report

Alternate title: How To Get 2 Liters Worth of IVs at Medical.

Quick Hits:

Overall Time: 6:14.57

Overall Place: 546 out of 851

Overall Mens: 443 out of 625

M25-29 Place: 41 out of 54

Long Course Version:

Friday

Friday was travel day for Hannah and I in our brand-spankin' new car. Earlier in the week, we had randomly gone looking at cars, not really all that serious. We happened upon a 2011 Hyundai Elantra Touring, which is essentially the previous car, but in hatchback form. The car also was stick shift, which made it an A+ in my book. Then we caught wind that it would actually make our payment decrease to get a new car.

Um, where's the paperwork?

24 hours later, and here we were, signing away for a new car. Bags were packed Thursday. Had a brief scare on Friday when Kermit the Felt started making some squeaking noises from the headset. Took it on over to Josh Freeman, who did some quick diagnostics for me to determine that, no, nothing was wrong. 3 PM and we hit the road!

Drive down was rather uneventful, outside of some traffic near Lowell. Ran into fellow Portland-area triathlete (and kick-ass guy) Owen Lisa at a rest stop on I-90. Made it into Thomaston, CT, the site of our home base, and just wound up crashing after a quick dinner with the parents.

Saturday

Saturday morning was my "practice" of waking up at zero hour, so 4:30 AM was wake-up call. Felt good, as I had been waking up about that time all week long. Still got a good eight hours of sleep, though.

Wound up doing a walk-around the campground, just trying to clear my head for the day. I had wanted to get down over to Quassy by 9:30AM, so I could catch some of the Olympic distance racers finishing. (Rev3 puts on an Olympic race the day before the half). I knew that Team Sports Bistro's Ton Chookhare was racing. I managed to show up just in time to help him kick towards the finish.

Also ran into Doug Welling at transition, as he was wandering around, cheering on his older brother. I knew of some other Portland-area athletes racing as well. Got to wander about the expo, check things out, etc.

Packet pick-up was smooth as silk. You found your number out (#776), then went to the designated number line. You got your packet, then headed over to the next table to get your age. You then walked down to get your chip, and have your photo taken, which went up on the big board as you came across the line. (Yes, very big race feel!) Very, very smooth operation.

Then it was time to rack Kermit for the night, and get things ready to go. I had done a quick practice run back over to the Timex parking lot, about a mile from the amusement park, to get the car so I could bring it over. I also wanted to give the bike a quick ride, just to make sure that everything was set.

Took the bike out, and went for a quick ride. Had a couple of gremlins in the drivetrain. Played with the barrel adjuster for a minute, and everything seemed perfect. (This will come into play later, as I'm sure you can imagine.) Time to rack it up. Figured out at this point that the way Rev3 had divided numbers up was based on age group, so all of us M25-29 competitors were racked in the same spot, along the far wall of transition. This meant that we would have a long way to run from swim to get to the bike, but short from bike to mount line, then re-rack, and then a long run back out of transition to start the run. Very fair.

Headed back to the campground, where I had myself some good American chop suey and Italian bread. I had avoided raw vegetables all week, because I had had some issues with digestion the previous week with them, which helped me out. I then pre-loaded my bike nutrition: two Honey Stinger waffles, and two bottles of Ironman Perform mixed with 125 calories of CarboPro. I headed to bed around 8:30.

Sunday

3:45 was wake-up call, as I knew it would take me a bit to get stirring on out of bed. I got dressed into my Sustainable Athlete kit, and got ready to rock. Choked down a couple of brown sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tarts and some water, and hit the road.

I had made the decision not to use a single transition bag, but instead brought three much smaller bags with me: one for swim gear, one for bike gear, and one for run gear. This was PERFECT for me, as it meant I could go through each mental checklist much faster, and was far less likely to forget anything.

Made it into transition at about 5:15 when it opened on up. I started making the necessary preparations: wipe down the bike, check the drivetrain, inflate tires, and lay out my gear. Our row made the decision that we would put our gear to the right of our bike, if we were facing our bikes from the front. This gave everybody plenty of room to stash their gear.

We then got the announcement that it was, in fact, 6:30, and it was time to head on down to the beach. I put on my wetsuit, and got a short couple of strokes in just to make sure everything felt good. It did. We then had to clear the water, to let the pros get ready to go at 6:50.

Age-groupers didn't start going off until 7:03. My wave, though, wasn't until 7:23. This let the nerves really start to show up. Then it was time to load into the starting corral, and toe the line.

Swim

Time: 35:29 (230 Overall, 27 Division)

I had managed to get a pretty decent spot towards the front of our wave hitting the water. We all ran in, with a touch of crowding to my right due to the "no wake" buoy sitting about 50 feet offshore. Someone ran head first into it...don't know how they did.

The water was very calm, and slightly cool. The same can't be said for the swim. Lots of violence here at the start of things. Not that that's a problem, as I can't say it was unexpected. It was just a fair bit of getting swim over, lightly kicked, etc. Nothing crazy. There was one point on the last bit of the swim where I got a forearm to the back of my head, leaving me seeing stars for a minute. Little scary, but was able to recover. I had a headache for the rest of the swim and the bike, though, which made things scary a bit later, too.

I managed to catch a fair number of people from the earlier swim waves, although I know I also got passed by a couple of people who started later than I. Considering the minute I had to take to re-orient myself after the whole head knocking thing, as well as essentially swimming into the sun during the middle-third making sighting more difficult, I was very pleased with my swim.

T1: 4:32

By the time I had gotten to transition, I saw that many of the bikes from my group had gone. Damn! I was going to have to try and make things up on the bike. Got out of the wetsuit. Put the helmet on FIRST. Didn't do ANYTHING else until then. Put my socks on (always cycle with socks on, don't ask why...) then the shoes. Grabbed the bike, and ran out of transition. A little slow, but I was pleased with the long run from transition on up.

Bike

Time: 3:31.46 (476 Overall, 43 Division)

Yep, I lost a LOT of time on the bike.

What happened? Well, a few things. Quassy is a notoriously brutal bike course. There's a pretty serious climb right around mile 7, and then it rolls a bit. Then there's 7 miles of relentless climbing all the way to mile 30, at which point you get to rest a touch; a short out-and-back from 35-45, and then lots of downhill most of the way back on through to transition, outside of one gut-check of a climb at about mile 53.

I knew I hadn't done as much climbing practice as I had wanted, but I felt pretty confident I could stick a 3 hour bike here. And things seemed OK out of the gate: legs felt great. Head hurt still from getting that forearm during the swim. I started to put my nutrition in.

This is where things started going wrong. This mixture I had made had worked countless times during training. Yet here I was, barely 10 miles in, and I was nauseous as all hell. What's going on? I tried to suck in a bit more. I felt bloated.

This is when I realized there was some pretty intense pressure on my stomach. I realized that my heart-rate monitor had fallen down from my chest, and was now wrapped around my upper stomach. I had pretty effectively given myself a gastric band. All of this fluid, and food, was now stuck in my upper stomach.

You can imagine how that worked out.

I was then fighting a nutritional deficiency the entire time. With that in mind, I felt great to be able to grind out a semi-respectable bike time. Great being a relative term, along with semi-respectable. It was time to throw out any ideas about times, and get into the zone of survival.

I still felt incredibly queasy, so it was a struggle to try and choke stuff down into the gut. This is where I wish I had decided to carry a gel or three with me. The only flavor that was out at the bike station I stopped at was espresso, which causes immediate evacuation on my part.

Then, on the out and back, my rear derailleur decided that I no longer needed to have my two mid-range gears that I like to crank on. Of course not. At this point, I had decided that if I was getting off the bike, it was to rack it, so time to just put things on meat grinder and go. Thankfully, there's a fair bit of overlap in the gearing of my bike, so I was able to find something relatively comparable to what I normally use and just get going again.

Some scary stuff out there on the bike: 40 MPH downhills where we saw a couple people eat it HARD...some serious bumps in the road at this point. I had gotten a touch light-headed at one point on the steepest downhill of the course. I slowed it way on down, took in some calories, and brought myself back. But that was crazy. Finally, we rounded the bend, and could see Quassy again.

I survived. I can run in my sleep. Let's go.

T2: 2:59

I actually managed to pass four people during the course of transition, which made me feel a bit better, especially considering how gingerly I came off the dismount, and walked the bike back into the rack. Quick tying of the shoes, and threw a Gu Roctane Blueberry Pomegranate into the system (Thanks, Ton!). Ran out of transition, and grabbed some Gatorade, knowing I needed calories and FAST after shorting on the bike by, oh, about 400 calories.

Run

Time: 2:00.09 (443 overall, 41 Division)

I started trying to get my feet underneath me. I was uncomfortable from the bike, and still very queasy. I needed to shake that feeling fast. I had a gameplan for the run to execute: power hike the worst of the hills; get calories in at EVERY aid station. Don't care how. Just needed to, and fast.

By this point, it had gotten a bit warm out there. Not terribly hot, like the day before, but warm enough. I hit aid station #1, and snagged some Gatorade. At #2, I made the decision to stop, use the bathroom, and get a gauge on how I felt. Felt much better after the pit stop, so it was time to put the hammer down.

The run plan worked out well for me, as I was able to average some good time through the middle miles. 7:30 miles started to come out, then walking to get Gatorade and pretzels into the system.

This run course is a BEAST. Lots of uphill, and then short, steep downhills. It's tough to find a rhythm here. Looking at some of the run times, I'm amazed at how guys were able to put together some fast splits.

The worst part came out at mile 12, as you stare down the face of the steepest uphill of the entire course. I saw my point where I could make my move on the hill, as people were still walking. I just decided to go for broke, and put the hammer down. Rev3 volunteers were there to let you know that there was only a half-mile to go. Up it went. Time to hammer.

It flattens out, and you can hear the announcers. Time to keep pushing. Every ounce you have left. Got to go. Quick check of the watch: 7:10 mile pace. Where did this come from? No worries. Got to keep moving. Time is of the essence.

Hannah met me at the transition off the road into the finisher's chute. It was time to keep sprinting. Just have to keep flying here. Move, move, move.

Finish line.

Glory.

Overwhelming.

I fucking did it.

Now, before I go further, I want to take the time here and say thanks to every single Rev3 volunteer. You guys made this experience. Super friendly. Amazing atmosphere. I kept thanking all of you at every single place I could. There were a couple of stand-outs: the first at transition after the bike, when all looked terrible, who gave words of encouragement: "You got this." Then the second is the one at the first out-and-back on the run course: I thanked you on the way out, and you said that you'd have good news on the way back. I came through, said thanks again, and you let me know we were over halfway home and to keep pushing. That meant a ton. And finally, the group at the top of that horrendous hill, telling me to keep putting the hammer down, that it would be over in less than four minutes if I kept moving like that. You guys made it an awesome time.

At the line, I got my medal, and finisher's shirt, and kept hugging Hannah. We then moved through the Muscle Milk tent, where everybody was congratulating one another. Every athlete reveled in each other's accomplishments, not just in their own, which made it such a better day.

Within about five minutes, though, I realized I was in trouble. Body temperature felt very high. I had taken in some stuff on the run, but now the stomach trouble had returned in a big way. I kept trying to suck down fluids, but couldn't put anything in.

I got walked over to medical right then and there, where the awesome folks threw me on a bed, got me three foil wrappers (yeah, I was messed up...), and hooked me up to some IVs. I then had the pleasure of re-tasting Gatorade and pretzels for the remainder of the time there. Not. Pleasant.

I got about 3 liters of fluid pumped back into me. I was still nauseous as all hell. Apparently, when you're that dehydrated, there's too much bile in the system...at which point, you get to expel it until you get the balance right again. Mmmmm. Awesome. This was going to make for a HELL of a drive home.

Well, not quite.

Hannah and I decided to hit a motel for the night, just to relax, sleep, get some dinner, and try and get me feeling better. Some crackers and water got me turned around pretty quickly, and then was able to put down some pizza much later in the evening.

So, what'd we learn?

First off, I'm NOT swimming with the heart-rate monitor again. I'm almost positive this is where it wound up falling, and then due to the rush of things, I never made sure it was sitting where it should have been. That's on me.

Secondly, I need to have an alternate calorie source available to me on the bike. I can't go back out there and expect that "this has to work, it worked for me before." I should have banked on a contingency plan for when that kind of thing happened, and be able to put something else into the system. So for Timberman, I'll plan on having two gels taped to the top tube of the bike.

Third, I was very pleased with how I finished. To run within 10 minutes of what I thought I could run off the bike, while including walking breaks, and with that kind of nutrition issue: I'm happy to know I can dig that deep again. I never cramped, either, which was quite odd. Just never got caught back up.

Fourth: I want to do more swim work. I want to do more over-distance stuff. I didn't feel fatigued, or over-exerted. I just want to get out there with a little more open-water experience, and see whether or not some of the headache comes back from that, too. Those swim caps don't feel great, especially when you have a fricking massive dome like myself.

In all, one hell of a weekend. I'm definitely coming back. I know I left a lot of time out there. But I am so pleased with going down, racing as hard as I could given the circumstances, and managing to pass some people on the run given how things went earlier in the race. I'm happy, and that's all I can ask for.

For photos, check out here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.645712799341.2141472.13000857