Best of What's Around: The Rev3 Cedar Point Report

This is a strange sport, triathlon. It's one that can leave you beaten and bloodied if you let it. But one of the things that makes it so fun for me, personally, is the mental challenges that it brings. You must find ways to override the negative thoughts, or the desires to burn yourself out.

Heading out to Rev3 Cedar Point taught me an awful lot about myself, how my body responds to certain stimuli, and what I need to do to override some of those mental challenges. With that in mind, here begins the road trip diary.

Friday: Travel Day
The recovery from my hilariously catastrophic explosion at Rev3 Maine went pretty well. My legs felt wooden just about that whole first week, although the small brick I did the Sunday beforehand actually felt pretty good.

What had me more nervous than anything else was Wallace the Blue. You see, that Sunday it POURED rain. But I wasn't about to not get this ride in, as I felt like I needed to continue to shake off the cobwebs from Maine. So out we went, rode around, got caught by a group ride towards the end which was actually perfect, as then I got to take a couple pulls off the front with them. I got home, got my quick run in (hey, my legs actually don't feel bad!), and then got to cleaning out the bike.

I noticed that the seat mast had a whole bunch of dirt and grime on it, so I took it off, and then turned the frame upside down.

I could've filled a 20 oz. water bottle with the amount of water and road grime that came pouring out. OK, not a big deal, whatever. Shook it out, cleaned every square inch of the bike, etc. Everything seemed normal.

Fast forward to later on in the week, and I go for a ride: bike will shift up the rear cassette, but won't shift down. Play around with the barrel adjuster. Nope. Nothing. The only thing that seems to help is being overly aggressive with the pressure on the shifter. Even played with the pin in the shifter so that it would act as friction, not indexed: nope. No dice.

Fine. Eff it. I'll figure it out when I get home.

Tune the bike, adjust everything, all is fine. Great!

Come back the next morning, go for a spin around the block, same thing happens. WHAT THE HELL.

I get it squared away again, come back the next day, and it works! OK, we got it settled then! But I was planning on keeping an eye on it all weekend long. (You can probably guess here that yes, this will come up again.)

I was fully packed and ready to be on the road by 7:30 AM. Filled up the car (all 13.2 gallons of glory), and was rolling down the interstate.

My teammate, Tim Andrus, had stayed with me here at Maine. As I was talking about road-tripping on out to Cedar Point, he had the brilliant idea of having me drive to his place, rather than me hauling the whole way to Sandusky. Tim lives just outside Watkins Glen, New York, so it's pretty familiar territory for me.

This still meant, though, that I'd be trekking from Portland to his place, which involves making my way through Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, New York, dive into Pennsyltucky for a minute (yes, that's what I said), and then back into New York.

The driving was fine until I-88, which runs from Schenectady down to Binghamton, where you pick up NY-17 (aka Future I-86, which it's been future 86 for oh...forever). It all looked the same. I had to make sure I wasn't in Groundhog Day a few times just by looking at the time and mileage to say, yes, we are moving forward.

Made it to Horseheads, NY by 3 PM. Made it almost the entire way without needing to stop for gas, too. Just needed a splash to give it something to be able to start when I got back to the car on Monday. Meet Tim's family, he rolled in, we transferred everything into his Suburban, and back on the road we went!

The trip from his place to Sandusky was rather smooth, except for the endless miles of construction. Apparently, Ohio likes to have the entire stretch of I-90 under construction at once, rather than completing one section at a time and moving forward. I swear, I saw 130,000 orange construction barrels along the way.

We made it into Cleveland, and that's when I caught my first scent of the city. I can now officially replace the phrase "It smells like Newark, NJ" to "It smells like Cleveland." I mean that in the nicest way possible; when you have that many refineries and import/exports coming through there...of course it's going to have a distinct scent. Part of what makes Cleveland what it is, I suppose.

Rolled straight into our place in Sandusky, and discovered a few things about our place out of the gate:

• There was a tiki bar, and countless Buffett/Maragaritaville signs EVERYWHERE.
• There was a wind turbine across the bay from us that sounded exactly like a disc wheel blowing past you.
• Our teammates Heidi, Anthony, Jeff, Elizabeth and her significant other Chris had ordered pizza. Tim and I took one look, and a 2nd pizza immediately got ordered.
• There was a significant amount of beer in the fridge that was crying to be consumed. Mission accomplished.
• In other words, by about 10 PM that night we decided that this place needed to be rented again.

We ate, grabbed beers, and then realized that there was stuff happening in the morning. Tim and I are early risers anyways, so we'd decided that we'd make it over to the races in the morning and see if we could help out.

Saturday: The Deluge 
I woke up at about 5:15 AM to the sound of a bike tipping over.

Nightmare, right?

Wrong.

I looked out on the porch, where Heidi and I had put our bikes overnight, to find mine had fallen against the chairs on the porch. It was extremely windy, pouring rain, and my bike was on the ground.

Panic-stricken, I got it upright, did a once over, and took a deep breath: no harm done. Checked the shifting again, just to be sure, and it was flawless. Awesome.

The water was extremely choppy. I checked the weather to find out a riptide warning had been issued. For a lake. 8 foot seas. ON A LAKE.

Needless to say, the morning tris had been cancelled. But there was still a kids race and a 5K happening instead. Tim and I were naturally awake: "HEY! The kids race is cancelled!" We got ourselves together and headed over to the race site.

What we found were tents blown all over the place, swim buoys that were halfway to Buffalo, and aid stations that needed to be created for the following day. Tim, Jeff, Anthony, Heidi, and I all decided it was time to get to work. We were all racing the following day (Tim and Anthony for the full; Jeff, Heidi and I in the half), but with the weather being what it was I saw no purpose in getting a whole bunch of fresh grime into a very clean bike. So my pre-race workout consisted of lifting things up and putting them down.

In all seriousness, I love being able to give back to the community where I can, so to have the opportunity to help this race go as seamlessly as possible was great. It really makes you appreciate the effort that goes into these events, all the while you're out there racing.

After helping out for a bit, we decided to head on back to the house to snag lunch, and get our bikes ready for the following day. (Tim's nightmare chronicles with Di2, my switch over to the Zipps for race day). Picked up our stuff, put in the race wheels, and headed back over to the expo.

After racking our bikes, I stopped over at the expo to pick up a spare tubular. (The Zipps are tubies, and I ride clinchers normally.) While there, I overheard an athlete asking questions about a hydration mounting system for the aerobars. It's the same system I use: standard bottle cage, standard bottle, bracket that gets zip-tied between them. He only had one bottle mount on his bike, and was only going to use that for the day. Recalling my under-nutrition and hydration experience at Quassy the year before, I asked him if I could install it for him. "You'd do that for me?" Of course! Team Rev3 at your service!

After finishing that up, checking Wallace one last time (and having a sweet spot in transition: first rack along the fence), it was time to head back to our house and load up on dinner. We had a sweet team dinner at the house, and then just de-compressed. Go time come morning.

Sunday: Race Time!
Alternate Title: Race Smarter = Go Faster
All weekend long, I'd been mentioning to myself that I really wanted to race this race smarter. I knew the fitness was all there, but it would take me metering my energy expenditures much better than I did at Maine. I needed to race with my head, as much as my fitness.

I've learned many things about myself, and one of them is that on race morning I need to be out of the house ASAP. So even though my swim wave wasn't until 8:40 that morning, I was up at 4:45 with Tim and Anthony to gear up as they prepared for the full. Jeff also decided to get the hell on out of dodge with us.

I prepared my breakfast (rice, eggs, honey) and my coffee. I was set and ready to roll.

We headed into transition at about 5:30. I got myself over to my bike and started setting up shop. I borrowed a pump from a neighbor. As it turns out, I couldn't reach the rear wheel without taking my bike out of the rack. So I went on over to the side wall, inflated things. And hey, what the hell, might as well check the shifting.

No shifting downward in the cassette.

You must be f***ing kidding me.

I tried everything in the short span of 10 minutes, and then made the call: heading to the bike mechanic. This flies in the face of my rule about myself and Freeman being the only ones who touch my bike. But drastic times call for drastic measures.

The guys over there couldn't have been more understanding. I explained the situation, and he started playing with it. He took the cable apart, tried to pull it, and noticed it was catching on something. He looked at his watch, and asked me if I knew whether the bike cabling required housing throughout the frame, or if it was just the cable through the frame and housing in the back. I knew from experience that it was just cable in the frame.

"OK, I can replace that. Or I'll give you a good gear for it to be a fixie. But either way we'll try."

So he went to work. He pulled the old cable out and discovered that the area by the bottom bracket and crank was just corroded as crap. Note to self: apparently, I need to powerwash the inside of my frame. Good to know.

By 6:30, the bike was restored, good as new. WHEW! Crisis averted!

I finished changing, getting myself together, ran into Ryan Oilar, another Rev3er, and got ready to head on through.

The last few minutes before the race are always tough: you need to control the mind, you need to stay relaxed. Trust in all of the work that you have done. After all, it can't be that bad. You've been here before.

You hear the countdown begin: one minute. Thirty seconds.

Ten seconds...nine, eight...*relax, relax, relax*...three...two...one...

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

The Race: Quick Hits
Swim: 35:38
T1: 2:29
Bike: 2:39:38 (21.1 MPH)
T2: 2:02
Run: 1:52:50
Final Time: 5:12:37 (16th in AG, 97th OA).

Swim
The water at Cedar Point is pretty shallow for a while, so you're dolphin-diving and running for a fair bit.

One of the first things you notice is that the water is a little murky. You definitely can still tell if somebody is near you, but it's difficult to get a gauge where exactly that person's feet or arms might be.

I settled into a rhythm pretty quickly. One of the things I learned from Maine was when to sight: about every 8 breaths seemed to be most effective at keeping me on course. I was really diligent about this here because I hadn't had the opportunity to get in the water before race day.

I feel like my swimming has definitely come a long way, as I'm sticking with the front group for a good portion of the swim. I'll never lead the swim, but to be up there towards the top is definitely confidence boosting. I felt like I was really moving well.

About three-quarters of the way through the swim I could feel my calves tighten up a little bit. They wouldn't loosen their grip the entire day. I tried fiddling with my foot position to get them to open up with little success. It was during this time that I made my two big navigational errors; I forgot to sight for a bit, and all of a sudden I'm not swimming anywhere close to the direction I want to be. I easily added an extra 100 yards to my swim.

I was done swimming at 32:45. However, it takes FOREVER to get on up and out of the water. You're constantly struggling to get up and over. So I wasn't surprised to be on the beach seeing a 35 number staring me in the face. That being said, though, seeing that many bikes in transition in my age group made me smile. I was ready to rock.

I'd worked on my transitions a bit coming out of Maine, and had a much easier time getting my helmet on. I was away very quickly. Up and over the mount line, time to start the most fun part of the day.

Bike
This being Ohio, I figured the bike course would wind up being a flat affair.

You'd be wrong to think that.

The course has some roll to it! You needed to be thinking active shifting throughout the day.

As I started out, immediately the first thought in my mind was, "There's people up the road. Go get 'em!" I really had to control the urge to want to drop the hammer then and now. I decided that I'd ride based on feel, and checking my cadence every few minutes to make sure that I wasn't pushing too much gear.

I got through to the first aid station about 10 miles in in pretty short order. Unfortunately, my spare kit opened up for one reason or another here, spilling my spare tubie out. It wound up falling between the frame and my tire, so I had to pull over and pull it out. It cost me about a minute to get it back together and get going again. In the grand scheme of things, no big deal.

I kept riding in control of the effort. At about mile 20 the lead pro male came past me. When second place came up about five minutes later, I decided to put my first little surge in for the day. It was false flat, and many of my competitors were just content to spin at about 18 MPH in a rather large pack. I decided it was time to burn a match or two.

I surged for the next 10 minutes or so, until I moved through most of the main pack that I'd encountered. I then focused on nutrition, getting in my calories and electrolytes. My calves were still balky, but my quads felt very, very good.

The half course then split back away from the full course, and I spun again for the next bit. When we turned back to head towards Sandusky again, I took a mental account of how things were going: time wise, right on check; legs felt good; really in control of the day. The scary thought: "Eh, this doesn't feel all that long at all. Come on, you can push for another hour."

I made the call to put another decent surge in. I had to make sure that I was keeping the cadence up throughout the day, and whenever the muscle tension felt "good" it was definitely a bit too much gear. The shifting was flawless, thankfully.

We got back into the school area, and had my first encounter with a draft pack for the day. Luckily, an official came by just after this and carded 'em all. Haha, suckers!

With about eight miles left to go on the bike, I wanted to make one more push back to Sandusky. But the legs told me as soon as I tried that they didn't have it. Rather than force it, and pay dearly on the run, I backed off and kept myself moving at a good clip back to transition.

We made the turn into Cedar Point. I started to get out of my shoes, and my right hamstring seized. OK, THAT'S new. I stretched immediately. Crisis averted.

Off the bike, and who do I see in transition but Eric, the race director for Rev3. "Come on, you going to win this run?"

"I'm trying man, I'm trying!"

"HURRY UP."

Ah, those are the things you love to hear.

I got over to my spot in transition, sat down to toss the socks and running shoes on, and was gone again.

Run
I got out of transition and felt like I had just stolen something. I felt fantastic. My legs felt great, outside of the calves being balky. My stomach felt fine. I was really ready to rip.

I started out averaging 7:15-7:30. This was right in range with what I knew I was capable of holding based on numerous training runs and rides at this effort. I felt like I'd found my rhythm.

The first four miles just flew by. I was crushing this run. Nine more miles. You've held faster nine mile runs on worse legs; you can do this!

At mile 5, I took down a bit more nutrition, and my stomach just seized up. Complete crawl into a hole and want to vomit lock down. OK, little more Coke and water to settle.

Nope, I'm puking instead.

Back and forth over the next two miles it went like this (hence the slow from 7:30s to 8:30s all of a sudden). I had to make the call: was it going to be faster for me to take Coke, run faster, and puke? Or would I be quicker taking water, maybe a little calories, and knowing my legs would get heavy quick with the lack of calories?

I opted for column B. It was disappointing to see a bunch of people pass me that I had passed while running, but I also knew that I was having the best day I've had out racing, and that I can't make my stomach suddenly cooperate. I tried. I didn't find it.

Oh well.

At about mile 8 I started seeing some of my teammates passing behind certain points. I yelled out to each of them, "Come catch me!" The only one who responded, I think, was Heidi, who said something along the lines of "I'm trying." (It was one of the females.) Jeff was in a world of hurt with me, so at least I knew someone else was sharing in my misery.

I knew with about four miles left that the dream of getting under five hours was gone; so I just said, "Let's PR, and let's do it under 5:15. And if we can get close to 5:10..."

I was working hard, especially the last two miles, trying to get back to Cedar Point. I ran into Charlie (aka The Boss) with about a quarter-mile left to go. "Looking strong, Ryan. Only eight miles to go."

I just shook my head.

"What, not funny?"

"Not now, bud!"

I made my way towards the finish line, pouring on the gas the whole way. I had nobody else in sight as I came around the corner. The crowd seemed a bit quiet, so I yelled out, "Come on!" waving my arms. . I got another high five from Stu as I came down the chute. I pointed to Sean English as he started announcing me, and I came home across the line.

Another PR. Another 8 minutes down. Another one in the books. More lessons learned.

As it turns out, it was a very mixed bag for Team Rev3 at Cedar Point: a bunch of personal triumphs and a few disappointments as well. I beat Elizabeth by 30 seconds, which she gave me an endless amount of crap for. Heidi beat us both by under a minute, which was also an entertaining stream of conversation. We had PRs, but we also had some DNFs to go along with it, unfortunately. But that's racing, I suppose: you can only do with what you have on race day.

Conclusions on Racing
At least for me, I do far better traveling than I do racing from home. With travel, I have to pack all of my stuff, I need to be prepared. I can't put something off. It eases my mind. I'm seriously contemplating crashing at someone else's place for Maine next year just for the same purpose of having to get ready like this.

I need to hydrate more beforehand. I didn't do a good enough job keeping enough liquids coming in the days leading up to the event. You know it's a problem when you drive for 5.5 hours and you don't need to hit the bathroom.

I'm still trying to figure out the nutrition thing. I think I have a handle on what I need to do (more calories on the bike, so I need to take in less while out on the run). But I'd like to dial this nausea thing down now.

I raced this one well. I did everything I could have done on that given day. In that sense, I executed. I performed. And the chips fell exactly where they should have given those circumstances. In that sense, I am so pleased, and I can honestly say there's a sense of satisfaction this time.

It's all right there. I can feel it.

Post-Race
We found each other after the race. Jeff, Anthony, Tim and I decided it was time for grub, so we grabbed burgers and beers. Well worth it, me thinks.

We then headed back to our house, and unleashed a celebration for all of our hard work. Plus, hey, it's Margaritaville themed. We couldn't help ourselves.

Then, of course, there's the finish-line celebration, which is a party unlike any other. I said it on Facebook before: it's those moments that have me so happy to be a part of this organization. It really cares for everyone, whether you're crushing the half or barely making it before midnight in the full.

Monday: The Drive Home
UGH. Terrible.

Tim and I took off early, as he wanted to get back for the kids, and I wanted to get home at some relatively decent hour.

I made it to Albany by 4:30 in the afternoon, and made the executive decision to drive home through Vermont and New Hampshire, rather than the Mass Pike. The change in route helped keep me awake. It was gorgeous over there, too. Me thinks a good training camp over that neck of the woods might be in order next year...

I made it home at 9:30 PM. 1600 miles in four days. Not bad.

THANK YOU's
Of course, to my wonderful Team Rev3 mates, for such an awesome weekend.

The Rev3 crew for putting on such a fantastic event, even when Mother Nature tried to re-locate us to some place in upstate New York.

Our sponsors: PowerBar, NormaTec, Quintana Roo, Reynolds, Swiftwick, SBR Sports, Pearl Izumi, blueseventy...don't know what we'd do without you all.

To coach Doug, for helping guide me to this point.

To Mr. Josh Freeman, for his awesome bike tuning skills this season.

To the many friends and family for their advice and support.

And last but certainly not least, my lovely wife, Hannah, without whom I could not do any of this.

Coming up: whether I destroyed my good friend's Adam's soul at a local 10K, and some gear reviews.

Had the Chance and Threw It Away: Rev3 Maine Report

Alternative Title: So Damned Close I Can Taste It

Damn.

That was the first word that came into my mind on Sunday night, after the dust had settled following another PR at the 70.3 distance.

But it was meant in two different ways: first, there's the incredible experience of knowing that I've taken an HOUR off my best time in a year. There's an awful lot to be said for this being my second year in the sport.

Secondly, though, I knew just how much I had left on the table. There was a lot that went right on Sunday, but a lot that went wrong, too. That's racing for you; it's a cruel mistress. You'll have triumphs, and you'll have failures. This is where that tweet from my previous post makes a lot of sense:

It is not what we get but what we become by our endeavours that makes them worthwhile.

So, without further adieu, here's the race weekend recap from Rev3 Maine:

Friday
Went down to Old Orchard Beach on Friday to get the lay of the land, but also to be able to help set things up for the weekend. With this race being in my backyard, I wanted to make sure that I gave back to the series that has given me so much.

I got down to the expo set-up, and immediately couldn't believe my eyes: this was actually happening, right in my state, just down the road. Unreal. In little podunk Maine, here comes a national race series, a massive expo, etc.

I ran into Carole, aka Sharpie, aka Momma Bear (she's the head of the AG team), and introduced ourselves to one another. And away we went! I asked what could get done in a couple hours of time, as I had to work in the afternoon. Naturally, I was roped into setting up the Rev3 store. I put together a few fixtures. If you bought anything tires, rim cement, brake pads, valve extensions, CO2, etc. then blame me if you didn't like how it was laid out.

Then headed to work, got some social media work done for the store, and then headed on home. Teammate Tim Andrus arrived during dinner, and we started chatting away. I had only met Tim for a bit at Rev3 Quassy, but we hit it off pretty quick. Between that and all the e-mail banter he helps generate, it was very easy to get right into things.

First order of business: got the Zipp 808s that I'd be riding for the weekend on board the bike, which turned out to be a pretty darn simple process (yes, Tim, I'm ordering the Park Tool multitool to have metric Allen wrenches kicking around...)

Then just crashed. Had an early morning to get to...

Saturday
Woke up, and Tim and I headed on down to OOB to get on going.

Participated in the practice swim again. I did the same at Quassy, and I'm finding it incredibly beneficial to my mental well-being. It's really relaxing to be able to head out into the water and know what is coming to you.

Just swam out to the turn buoy, and started realizing how the current would flow, and what that would mean for sighting conditions. I also knew what this meant for the beach start, and the trip on in. When back at shore, it turned out Tim had managed to dive for a little crab. No, seriously.

Got done with the swim, then generated a small peloton of Rev3ers to head out for an easy spin on the bike. Seemed like it was split 50-50 in terms of those of us doing the half versus the Olympic.

Let me tell you, there's few things like hearing the "whoosh-whoosh" of deep carbon wheels. It's infectious.

Got back into town, racked the bike, ran into local athlete Bob Turner and realized we'd be in the same wave, which just made me chuckle. He and I attempt to destroy each other. A lot. This would be both good and bad news.

We then headed back to the house. I packed up my bags for the morning, and then we headed over to dinner with a few of the team. Had my single beer for a PR at the restaurant, ate, came home, went to bed.

Sunday: Go Time.
Woke up at 0-dark-fifteen. This one was a little earlier than normal, simply due to the nature of the wave starts. The race had to get over the Amtrak rails before the first train came through at 8:15. This meant that we were up and going early. Tim would be starting at 6:20, with me coming four minutes behind.

Parked the car. Shook out the cobwebs. Then had my normal pre-race routine of destroying the nearest port-o-john. I'd like to apologize to whomever followed after into that thing. It was ruined.

I then finished setting up transition, got the tires inflated, and was ready to rock.

Walked down towards the swim start, realized I'd left my goggles and watch behind. Got back down to where I needed to be with about 10 minutes to spare before the start. Guess the brisk walk wound up being my warm-up. But I was very, very confident following the day before.

Quick Recap:
Total Time: 5:20:50
Swim: 35:04
T1: 4:42
Bike: 2:32:29
T2: 1:39
Run: 2:06:57

Swim
Having swam the day before, I knew the current would be pushing us on the long part of the swim. That said, that also meant that the buoys would have a little play in them, as well as a push during the swim out from shore and back in.

This meant that we would need to really adjust how you sighted in order to appropriately get on course. For me, this meant that at the start I lined wide right. The current would pull me back into the turn buoy. Then, after the turn, there was a hotel directly behind the second turn buoy; sighting off it would put you right on course. After that, if you used the ferris wheel to sight, you'd be pushed directly to where the swim out was.

I have never been more by myself out in a swim. I found some feet to swim off of to start off with, and then settled into my own patterns. The fastest of the fish took off a bit, but when I got to the first buoy I was surprised to see only about 50 meters between them and me. I think some of that had to do with course correction; they needed to swim out against the current to get to the buoy, rather than using it to their advantage.

I started passing people from the wave before at the first buoy, which is when I really knew I was in good shape. Made it to the second buoy and noticed a guy who I race against a fair bit, and knew he always swam a bit faster than I. So I had some real advantages going for me.

As I got to the edge of the pier, I looked over to my right and saw a familiar goggle, wetsuit, and beard combo: Bob. I almost choked there laughing. Guess we would be racing each other.

Made the hike on up to transition (ran on the painted part: much easier on the feet than the bricks), had a brief issue getting the calf of my wetsuit off, then a second quick issue getting my helmet on. Didn't cost me more than 15 seconds. Need to have a faster transition at Cedar Point, though. Free time on the table.

Bike
Having ridden this course numerous times in the lead up to the event, I knew the opening would be quick, before building into some rolling terrain through the middle 30 miles.

This is where, IMO, the title of this post comes from: I just hit the gas too early.

My coach and I had targeted a 2:30-2:35 bike split. I came in just about as dead on in that window as you could: 2:32:29. The problem was not that this split was unattainable, it's just how I rode it on this given day that cost me.

You see, there are two ways to average 22 MPH on a bike: you can ride it as a very peaky effort, or you can ride it in a smooth power application. You can probably guess which of those I put forth on the day.

I should've known that I was flying a little too close to the sun when I met up with Bob again on the bike course. He beat me out of transition, and he's also a stronger cyclist than I. You can do the math.

The problem, of course, was that I felt like a million bucks. Unlike Timberman last year, where I felt the effort in my legs coming off the bike, I never felt anything in my legs the entire time on the bike.

At any rate, at mile 48 or so I decided to start spinning the legs out for the run upcoming, continue to reduce the muscle tension. I didn't realize it until later, but up until I made that call I was running 2nd in my AG and was JUST behind the leader. Funny how that works out sometimes...

I got off the bike 4th in AG, made my transition, and was ready to rock.

"Run"
In quotes again, because it was far more survival shuffle than anything else.

I got onto course and had my cheering section on the corner of the street. I was informed that Turner was just up the road on me. My decision to spin out the legs might have cost me a minute overall. Exactly where I wanted to be.

I blew out of transition at the pace that I had trained for and targeted during bricks: 7:10-7:15. It felt super comfortable, like I was barely working.

And then it blew up.

My medial quads went from being "eh, little fatigued" into full-on lockdown mode. I immediately said, "oh, not again, I am not doing a 2:30+ 'run.'" Nope, we're going to try and work our way through it. I started getting nutrition on board as soon as I could: coke, water, salt tabs. Just going for it.

Despite my cramping up, I still caught Bob. He was in rough shape, too. So I was going to say to hell with it, we're either going to go for it or we're going to die trying. My legs felt better when I attempted to open things up, so away we went.

Made it through about half the run course, when I got to another aid station, that the wheels completely blew up again. I had attempted to adjust my stride a little bit at an aid station to be able to grab some nutrition, and it was just lights out: I couldn't find it again. I tried everything. The mind was willing, but the body would not respond.

F*ck.

Bob passed me at mile 7. I wanted to run with him so bad, I knew he was suffering too, but no matter what I tried nothing responded. I wished him luck and just got going.

I think a fair number of people I know recognized me on the back half of the run. I'm sorry for not acknowledging you. I was so far deep into the pain cave I couldn't possibly respond.

I suppose the proudest thing I can say is that I didn't walk between aid stations. The only walking came when trying to get salt pills (for some reason, some aid stations had them in cups, others did not). Coke. Water. More calories. More electrolytes. Pick it up, dude. It might hurt, but you're going to drag yourself to the finish line.

I realized that my goal time would come and go, but that I still had time to PR. Well, fine, that's the new target, and I will either go into full lock-down legs mode or I will get this PR.

PR it is, then.

I came down the chute, made sure Stu who was announcing me recognized the Team Rev3 Triathlon kit (earned a high five out of it, too! Thanks for making me smile there.), and crossed the line.

I made it exactly one step over the line before requesting help to get to a chair. From the med tent doctor: "I saw you come across the line, and said, 'He's going to need a little help.'"

They wanted to put me in a wheelchair. Hell no. Uh-uh. Nope, just some water, some ice, and whatnot. And then we're going to walk over to medical.

They checked up on me, made sure it was just the legs that were totally screwed (yup), and then entombed my legs in ice. Ahhhhhhhhhh. Relief.

We got to chatting about things, where people worked, etc. And just mellowed out. I hobbled my rear end out of there, got a massage from Kevin at The Athlete's Touch (highly recommend his work; he found some core issues that had an impact on the legs, too). Could then move again.

We then hung out to cheer in the last two finishers in. Let me tell you, THAT is an experience. You need to do that at least once. Seriously, seeing the look on those two ladies' faces as they came down the chute really shows you how this sport and this race series can impact people.

Lessons Learned
Well, I learned an awful lot over the course of the weekend about racing, and how even the best laid plans can blow up if you don't execute them the way that you should. That's on me. But that's OK, too, because how else will you learn? Gotta fall sometimes in order to fly.

For Cedar Point, I'm planning on evening out the bike intensity a fair bit. Don't go too crazy out of the gate, settle in. Perhaps tape the same message to my bars from Quassy: "Hour 1: EZ. Hour 2: Settle. Hour 3: PUSH." Ride smarter which means faster overall time.

I'm also looking at nutrition a fair bit. I think my current model might be a bit flawed, so I'm going to play with some of the PowerBar products to get exactly what it is I need together.

A PR is still a PR. Now it's time to do it all over again in 12 days.

The Dreaming Tree

Editorial Note: I'd like to apologize for the lack of blogging around these parts as of late. We've still been having a hell of a time getting any kind of settlement regarding the Great Poo Flood, as I've taken to calling it. So my spare time has been limited to dealing with a lot of insurance companies, in between training and work obligations. 

There are a lot of product reviews that are due in the next couple of weeks: Pearl Izumi Tri Fly IV Carbon bike shoes, Blue Triad EX bike, and a race report from the Falmouth Road Race. Those will all probably appear following Rev3 Maine this weekend.

Before we get going into my mindset heading into Rev3 Maine, I'd like to thank everybody who's been incredibly supportive throughout this adventurous summer. First and foremost, my friends, family, and adoring wife: couldn't do it all without you guys. Secondly, team Rev3: really, I could lump you all into the first category. But I thought you deserved an additional shout-out.

I'd also like to thank all of my sponsors, as you've all been fantastic: Rev3 Triathlon, who I owe an awful lot to; Pearl Izumi; Swiftwick; PowerBar; NormaTec; QuintanaRoo; BlueSeventy; SBR Sports; and I'm probably missing somebody in there somewhere. But I can't thank any of you enough for everything that you've done for me individually, Team Rev3 as a group, and just in general putting out fantastic products that I've had the privilege of using throughout this year. I can only hope that I've been a help in getting the word out about how awesome each and every one of you are.

With that all in mind, here we go.

Race Week. Time to go again.

I've been awaiting this moment for a long time. Probably since the weekend after Rev3 Quassy, I've been wanting to hit a race. But I also knew that I wanted to really peak, and targeted this and Cedar Point as my two biggest races of the year.

As I've been going throughout the year, I've been noticing a massive improvement on my outlook on things, and the corresponding impact on how that outlook has had on my training. Joe Friel advocates an awful lot on each workout having a purpose behind it: whether aerobic endurance, muscular endurance, etc.

I would also posit the theory that there needs to be an additional piece added to each and every thing involved: it needs to be something that you're enjoying doing.

If you aren't enjoying it, why the hell are you beating yourself up doing it? What are you trying to prove? Who are you trying to impress?

There should be only one person that you're trying to impress: yourself. It is your own desire, your own enjoyment of the activity, that should be the reward for what it is that you're attempting. If you lose sight of that, you're just slogging through. You're not gaining anything beyond having spent time outdoors. (Which isn't to say that alone is a bad thing, but just that you need to be having some type of enjoyment of that activity during it.)

Which is to say that, I've been having a hell of a lot of fun out there. I've discovered that the more I'm relaxed, the more smiling I'm doing despite the work I'm doing, the more fun that I'm having, the faster and faster I'm going. It's a bit of a breakthrough, and it's resulting in impressive times during workouts, which is giving me a bunch of confidence heading into Rev3 Maine.

"The Dreaming Tree," by Dave Matthews Band, is allegedly two stories of people suffering through, and their respective lament to God about how "if I had the strength, I would leave you up to your own devices..." But I instead focus on The Dreaming Tree itself.

Chasing my dream of what it is I want out of life has really become a focus this year; understanding who I am, what I do best, and enjoying each and every second of it. I really love my job, and the new activity that I've got there. Training is FUN. I'm learning so much about how my body responds to things, and how to use my mind to help overcome some of the blocks that can come up.

That's the thing that draws me to triathlon, skiing, and what I do for work: they are all incredibly mental by their nature. You really need to THINK, and using your mind you can really excel. I've improved so much in all three things (tri, ski, work) this year and I attribute much of it to my outlook on life itself. Just staying positive, learning from mistakes (and being OK to make said mistakes every once in a while), and keep moving forward.

Jordan Rapp put out a Tweet the other day, which was a quote to a philosopher. Forget who it was, but the quote went something like this:

It is not what we get but what we become by our endeavours that makes them worthwhile.

He was using it in the context of triathletes being able to relate to it. I think anybody can.

So with that, it's time to gear up. Tune things up. Be ready to go. Come Sunday, I'll take everything I've learned and bring it to the course. I've got my dreams. I know what I'm capable of. It's time to be the best that I can be, and see where it lands me.

In effect, it's time to chase the dream again.

One Crappy Day

Stepping away from product reviews for a few minutes...

Things have been going extremely well around these parts. Almost too well. My sneaking suspicion had been something would wind up taking us down a peg or three soon. Typically, that's something easy like Sallie Mae wanting some student loan money. You know, hard at the time, but in the grand scheme of things nothing all that bad.

Well, my instinct was right. It was just the scale that was wrong.

On Tuesday evening, one of our upstairs neighbors knocked on our door. This was unusual if only because we all tend to keep to ourselves and it was 9 PM. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, what's up?
Jon (neighbor): Have you been downstairs lately?
Me: No, why?
Jon: Your storage unit faces Brighton Ave, right?
Me: Yes. (sense of dread building).
Jon: You're going to want to go downstairs.
Me: Why, what's going on?
Jon: Fishman (property managers) were downstairs, found some nasty stuff in my storage. They couldn't get a hold of you to check on yours, so I said I'd tell you.
Me: Alright...I'll check.
Jon: Just, don't shoot the messenger when you get down there.

That never sounds promising, but I still held out hope that it couldn't be that bad.

I was wrong.

Yes, that is all what you think it is.

Almost half a foot deep across the majority of our storage unit was a putrid mess. The stench was horrifying. And it covered everything in its path.

I'll save you the pictures of how it covered all of the stuff that was down there. Out of everything that we had in the storage unit, only our Christmas stuff and a set of snow tires survived.

*************
Now, here's the thing: I don't like asking for help. I hate asking for help. I'm a "pull yourself up from your bootstraps" kind of guy. I'd rather look around for something on my own, not ask for directions, etc. You know the drill. Typical "I know better and will figure it out!" male.

We lost everything. My brewing kit (apologies to the Team Rev3 mates, but there's no way in hell I can make that Revolution Rye Pale Ale now), bottles, sports equipment, electronics, all my old law notebooks (we might consider that a plus...depending on how much sarcasm I'm feeling at a particular moment), some old photos, on and on...

My insurance is not covering the losses, as this is considered a "flood." One could make the argument that sewage does not equal a flood, but knowing my insurance law like I do (hey, that law degree does pay off!), I'm not going to win that battle. As an aside: do you think I just added flood insurance to my policy? If you just nodded your head, congratulations: you're correct. No prizes, though, because...

We can't replace anything that we lost. Nothing. There's just no way for us to do it.

I don't know what exactly it is I'm asking for. Whether that's sympathy, help re-building what it is we lost, or what. I just know one thing: we can't do it alone.

**************
I want to take a time-out to thank the folks at Fishman, our property managers, for doing the best they can with this; our landlord, Jon, who's been checking in with us to see what the situation was; and Greg over at the Bier Cellar, who helped pick out some killer brews to help dull the ache of yesterday.

Today was "throw everything out" day, and was the first time I really lost it. In some cases there's 15-20 years of life that just, quite literally, got crapped on. It's heartbreaking to have things you worked so hard for to have to be tossed into a dumpster, never to be seen again.

We'll be OK, eventually. Just really not sure how to get there.

Gear Review: blueseventy Helix Wetsuit

Wetsuits are one of the larger gear investments a budding triathlete can make; behind a bike and/or race wheels (if, of course, you fall into USAT's median income range of approximately $108,000), it is likely a wetsuit will be your most expensive piece of gear.

With that kind of money on the line, then, it stands to be prudent when it comes to selection. Much like when it comes to proper triathlon bikes and running shoes, fit comes first. Then you can start worrying about the features of a particular suit versus another. This means that if you are part of the crowd screaming, "I can only wear a sleeveless," it is more likely that you either have an abnormally shaped torso (there are indeed certain people who just can't fit into a sleeved suit), or you have never had a sleeved suit that fit you properly.

But, what if you enjoy the feel of the water against your arms, or simply prefer a thinner feel to the sleeves of the suit? Most wetsuit companies really build up the forearms of their suits to create catch panels, with the theory that they will help move more water.

Enter the blueseventy Helix.

blueseventy Helix Men's 2012 Wetsuit. (image courtesy of blueseventy).

The Tech Babble
Wetsuits, at their core, have been using the same kind of material for decades: neoprene. Regardless of brand or fit, you'll be buying a suit made of this material, much like how in running shoes, you'll for the most part be buying an ethylene vinyl acetate product.

Neoprene, due to its smoothness, helps reduce drag in the water. However, because there are air molecules trapped in the rubber (much like how air molecules trapped in the midsole of a running shoe provide the cushioning), the air helps to provide lift, and therefore buoyancy.

Of course, having a whole bunch of rubber surrounding your skin in the water also helps keep you warm. Too warm, in some instances. This is why there are temperature cut-offs for wetsuits: because you run the risk of severe overheating if the water temperature is high to begin with. The suit will only make it warmer! For Rev3 events, the water temperature cut-off for awards is 78 degrees; nobody is permitted to wear a wetsuit when the water is warmer than 84 degrees. For those planning on racing say, Rev3 Maine or Rev3 Cedar Point with me: I think we have nothing to worry about. We'll be wearing wetsuits.

There is also a limit to the thickness of the wetsuit: 5 millimeters at its maximum. This is, again, to limit overheating due to the suit being too thick, and also too much buoyancy help from a wetsuit. As it is, wearing a suit with 5 millimeter thickness is impossibly buoyant; you basically need only scull with your pinkies in order to stay afloat.

That is not to say, though, that all suits with 5 millimeter thickness in them are made the same. Nor should all of the suit necessarily be made to this thickness; sure, we want the buoyancy, but we also need to be able to move in the suit! If you can't move your arms well enough to take an effective swim stroke, then you haven't made any sort of improvement by putting on a wetsuit.

Furthermore, although buoyancy can help out any swimmer, there are different types of buoyancy needed for different people. If you are like most triathletes who come from a cycling or running background, the mass will be in your legs, and you have a difficult time raising the hips to avoid the dreaded "swimming uphill" position: pushing water down with your torso, legs behind you sinking towards the bottom. However, if you have more of a swimming background, your body positioning tends to be better; you want the suit to give you some of the sleekness and buoyancy, but to some degree get out of the way.

blueseventy, named for the fact that water (blue) covers seventy percent of the Earth's surface, recognized this as well. There are two product ranges that blueseventy manufactures: the neutral buoyancy line, and the positive buoyancy line. The neutral buoyancy products are thicker in the torso and core, whereas the positive buoyancy suits focus more on buoyancy through the core, hips, and legs, much like swimming with a permanent pull buoy.

The Helix slats in as the top-of-the-line neutral buoyancy suit. It tiers the maximum thickness of the suit as 5-5-4, with the first section through the torso, the middle section as the core and hips, and the final section throughout the legs. So, the legs are a touch thinner than the top two sections. This isn't to say that they will sink when in the water; instead, blueseventy's research suggests that because the legs are constantly in motion (read: work on your kick, buster, because you're supposed to be kicking in a triathlon swim...), this thickness provides the best balance of buoyancy and freedom of motion.

The core and hips are also constructed slightly differently from the torso. The suit features what are called Aerodome panels in the midsection. Remember above how we talked about the rubber having air molecules trapped in the matrix? Well, increase the volume of those air molecules, and you have Aerodome: same thickness, more buoyancy. This is to help promote that downhill swimming position.

But what of the arms and shoulders, the part of the suit that makes people cringe? This is where blueseventy takes a completely different course as compared to other suit manufacturers. Most suits will feature a butterfly panel, opening up the shoulders and arms, before building to large "catch panels" in the forearm, designed to help move more water during the swim stroke. The problem? These catch panels also create drag in the water, particularly if you have a longer glide before initiating the pull. Also, if you don't get the suit just right in the shoulder, it will feel as if it is pulling down on the arm.

blueseventy's solution? Let's go all minimal up top! The suit has some of the butterfly in the shoulder and back, with 2 millimeter thickness there. But then there are 1.5 and 1 millimeter panels all throughout the arms. And they're not even neoprene; it's fabric! The result: supreme freedom of motion. But it also can help out from a form standpoint; it will allow you to take that swim stroke you've been honing in the pool and bring it directly into the open-water; no form modifications necessary. This can help reduce injury-risk, but also increase awareness of what is working and what's not working; it's easy to make modifications in technique when the suit is so flexible.

The Helix was designed with triathlete's in mind, as there are some answers to common problems that we tend to face. Take, for instance, the run into the water for beach starts, or the run from the water to transition. The Helix has a thinner panel behind the knee to allow you to be able to run easily with the suit on. Also, the zipper works in reverse: when putting the suit on, it zips from the neck down. To remove, pull the cord up. This makes sure that if somebody gets a hold on that pull cord during the course of the swim, it's not pulling the zipper down off your suit and letting a whole bunch of water in.

The Swim: How's It Work
This suit is FAST. As in, holy crap.

As we reviewed before, I swam in the Orca Sonar last season, and another Orca suit for part of the year this year. You would think that, being 6'3" and 158 lb., I would fit well into a suit that is pretty narrow.

And you'd be wrong: the Orca line is designed with folks who fit onto the Felt's and Cervelo's of the bicycle world in mind: long torso, shorter to average length legs. I am, of course, built the opposite way: super long legs, next to no torso. To give you an idea, when doing the Rev3 Maine bike course preview with Jen Small, her response to attempting to draft off of me while on board Wallace the Blue: "You're all legs! No draft comes off of you!"

So, in other words: the Orca line was a poor match. It resulted in some shoulder impingement, simply because I could never get the suit's torso to really match up. Orca also was a little narrower in the shoulders and chest overall. In sum: I should've gone with something different.

This is the suit.

First off, the rubber in this suit simply works. To test it out for yourself, just go for a standard beach start, run in, dive in (please, in a familiar area where you know where you won't hit your head...), and just take off.

You are GONE.

Seriously, this thing just up to speed wants to stay up at speed. And you feel that speed, too. If this is the first time you've worn a wetsuit, the phrase "this is cheating" will probably come to mind. And that's OK. It's not cheating. But it is speedy!

As you start moving into your swim stroke, you'll notice how easy it is to keep your hips high in the water. One thing that I noticed was that this suit really likes to have your head "buried," so to speak: relax your neck to allow your chin to point towards your chest. It really gets you into that downhill swimming position. The two panels on the sides of the front chest will also prevent you from jacknifing at the midsection while you turn to breather, giving you a much more effective position and forcing you into proper torso rotation.

Your legs will float behind you, but again due to some of the torso panels you will have less of the fishtail action that is incredibly common in poorer swimmers (often due to core strength issues). It's really attempting to streamline you and move you towards the direction that you want to be moving in.

And then the arms: what a difference! You really get a good idea as to where you are in the swim stroke, and also knowledge of how small changes in turnover rate and forearm placement will impact your speed in the water. It's incredible how flexible and easy it is to move in this suit. For those who have shorter torsos and have had issues with sleeved suits in the past, stop looking. Go try on a Helix.

For the rest of us, this suit will really make some improvements for you. It is a blazing fast suit that, considering the attention to small details, really pays off in the end. I couldn't be happier to have found this suit out. It makes me a better swimmer.

And when you're paying for a wetsuit, isn't that what we're looking for?

Retail: $649.99
Rental at Rev3 Events Available for $75

Shoe Review: Pearl Izumi isoTransition

I've been a bad, bad product reviewer.

Two months have passed since our last gear test around the CtB offices (the SwiftWick Aspire sock review). Far, far too long.

As a make-up, though, we'll be featuring at least a product review a week for the remainder of July. There's a lot to get through: Pearl Izumi Tri Fly Carbon IVs, blueseventy Helix wetsuit, Blue Triad EX,  XPS Baking Company X-Series Cookies, as well as this review here.

So, let's get down to business, shall we?

Men's Pearl Izumi isoTransition

The Tech Babble
The first thing that generally comes to mind when you think "Pearl Izumi" is cycling, and for good reason: together with parent company Shimano, PI covers 85% of the market. To put that in perspective, the current leader in the running footwear business (Brooks) has a market share of 18%. It's a staggering number!

To no surprise, as triathlon took off Pearl Izumi went headfirst into it, creating numerous apparel and cycling shoe options. And options they have: three different product lines for apparel, three distinct options on the cycling shoe front.

However, PI's running shoes have always left something to be desired. My first experience with PI's running product line came in the form of the original SyncroSeek trail shoe. It's a shoe that makes my top 5 list of worst running shoes ever: heavy as a brick, ran a full size and a half small, and had absolutely no arch in it to speak of. It felt like PI had decided to take one of their mountain biking shoes, slapped a midsole and outsole on it, and called it good.

Not a good first impression. Hello, blacklist.

Thankfully, PI learned from these mistakes. The isoTransition still runs a little short on length, but there is an arch on the inside of the shoe, thanks to the OrthoLite insole. OrthoLite was once used by Nike and Saucony, respectively, for their insoles to their running product line.

The overall theme to the PI product line is what they call 1:1. This is, in their terms, trying to make the athlete and gear one and the same; a mating of the two that is completely natural. PI's big technology hallmark, at least for this particular shoe, is their seamless upper. There are no interior seams anywhere on the shoe. Less seams, of course, should mean less blistering, as there are fewer friction points on the interior of the shoe.

Cushioning comes from a midsole constructed solely from PI's proprietary blend of EVA. No gel pods, no Syncro cradles, no nothing extra. This is a "I'll take my meat and potatoes, thank you very much, nothing else" shoe. Don't take that as meaning that it's under-cushioned; it's just that the shoe is extremely reliant on the ability of the foam to handle the task at hand. Midsole stack heights are 19 millimeters in the heel, 10 millimeters in the forefoot, for an offset of 9 millimeters.

Drainage holes are cut through the bottom of the shoe; this has an unintended consequence which we'll get to during the running section. To complete the shoe, there is an integrated bootie tongue and elastic laces. Total weight for the shoe in a men's size 9 is 7.8 ounces; of course, my size 13 boats weigh in slightly heavier.

The Run
Well, congratulations, Pearl Izumi: you're off my blacklist.

Popping these on, the first thing you notice is, much like the K-Swiss Kwicky Blade Light, is what's not there, rather than what is: there's no impinging seams. There's no pressure points. Instead, you have a shoe that hugs around the foot before opening into a wider toebox to promote forefoot splay. It's comfortable in the same way that, say, walking around in a slide sandal is comfortable: there's only one piece really holding onto your foot, and then the rest of your foot may do as it pleases.

The isoTransition is a neutral shoe, which usually would be bad news for this esteemed author. However, there's some natural stability built in here. Some of that comes from the lowered offset and the natural splay of the forefoot (the wider your toes may spread, the larger the "tripod" your foot can become and be naturally stable). But it also comes from a relatively rigid midfoot region. A small bridge exists only on the medial side of the shoe, giving it additional structure here. It's just enough to allow me to run in it without any type of additional support. I think the best corollary might be some of your structured neutral shoes, a la Asics Nimbus: even though it's neutral, there's just a touch of stability available to those who need it.

There's some serious cushioning underfoot, especially for something with only 10 millimeters of cushioning in the forefoot. The foam has some bounce to it; I'm guessing there's a bit more rubber in the blend of EVA that Pearl Izumi engineered. But the energy return does not come at the cost of pure protection from the road. This is, in my opinion, the result of the drainage holes cut underfoot: it allows the shoe a little bit more room to spread out upon impact, dispersing energy away from the foot.

These holes also make the shoe incredibly flexible in the forefoot. This is good for someone like myself, who has an inherent lack of flexibility in my big toe: I have a hard time with shoes that are very stiff in the forefoot and getting them to respond in sync with my foot. This, on the other hand, is very easy to pick up and go.

Varying stride lengths, it seems like this is a shoe that wants a pretty high cadence. Unsurprising, given some of the athlete's that Pearl Izumi has on the roster: Tim DeBoom and Cait Snow both run with very, very high cadences. Quick turnover really makes this shoe come alive with it's mix of cushioning and energy return.

I have yet to test the drainage on the shoe, as I haven't raced in them yet and that's generally the only time you'll see me dumping gallons of water over my head. But I believe it's safe to say that it will be pretty effective, given that there is drainage from heel to toe.

Overall, it's a great riding shoe for those who like a bit more of a responsive feel underfoot, but don't want to be penalized for doing so. It's a nice mix of road feel, isolation, and fit.

It's more than a triathlon shoe: it's a great running shoe.

Rev3 Maine Bike Course Review

Living in Portland gives me a bit of an advantage when it comes to Rev3 Maine: I can head out onto some part of the course, whenever I want. It's just a short drive from Portland down to Old Orchard Beach, so I can swim, ride, or run the course whenever I find the time.

It just so happens that an opportunity arose to do a full bike course recon-mission with fellow Team Rev3 athlete Jen Small and a small group of recruited help. We rode the whole course at some point during the day; we actually started and finished in Saco, just outside of Old Orchard Beach.

I'm breaking this review up into the mileage for the actual bike course, and not the mileage the way that we rode the course.

Miles 0-3: Heading out of Town
This is probably the worst of the roads that you'll face all day, starting about a mile out of transition until you get to Route 1. By this, I mean it's a little pockmarked, but overall very much rideable and easy to find a clean line. It's gently rolling and generally well-shaded, so it's a good place to settle down from the swim and get ready for the work to come. Because trust me: there is work to come.

Miles 3-10: Working Time
This is where the course starts to really coming into it's own. We rode on a relatively hot day, with a decent amount of wind. You start off with a pretty flat section, minus the overpass over Interstate 95. Then you begin some of the turning on the course, as well as the starting of the rolling hills of Maine.

Here's the thing: when you hear "flat," if you are from, say, Kansas, this course will come as a shock to you. If you live in Montana, then this'll be considered pancake-flat. For the rest of us, I think the most apt descriptor would be "rolling." This course isn't like Rev3 Quassy, which is a beast to climb. But what it will do is separate those who can use their shifting to their advantage and those who attempt to go at courses with the idea of smashing it.

This course will fight back. Roads are gentle through this section, but the exposure means little reprieve if the sun is intense as well as getting to know the wind. Most of this section is parallel to the coast, so it is most likely this section should be crosswind come race day.

Miles 10-15: Route 5
It's probably the busiest stretch of road on the entire course, so if you are thinking of pre-riding, I would highly recommend a group environment in order to be visible. This road has heavy truck traffic, as a lot of farmland and construction calls this stretch of road home.

As such, it's prudent to ride in the shoulder. Expect a headwind heading away from the coast. This also features the first real climb of the course, a gentle slope heading for about a third of a mile.

Miles 15-25: The Bottom of "The Square"

Rev3 Maine Bike Course Map, courtesy of Rev3Tri

One of the more intriguing sections of this course is this "square." This is the lower left-corner of the map above on the bike course.

This square encompasses miles 15 to 35 of the course. The bottom end here turns left from Route 5, heading south, before heading for a right to Lyman and Waterboro.

The most scenic section of the course, this features some beautiful ponds, rolling farmland, and some stonework that screams "classic New England." It's probably the one section of road that makes me think of Rev3 Quassy, and some of the climbing to be done there. There's some uphill here. Nothing too severe, nor too long, but it exists. Those who can spin efficiently will be rewarded.

The back half of this ten mile stretch allows you to really open things up a little bit, as you get the downhill from a lot of that climbing that had been done, as well as some smooth pavement.

Miles 25-33: The Top of the Square
Fastest section of the course by far. According to my Garmin data, this is where I hit top speed, as well as the fastest ten-mile stretch of the day.

Do not think that it will be easy, though; far from it. This section of road moves roughly parallel to the wind, so expect some cross-breeze. This turns into a tail wind when you turn back onto Route 5, but this means that you need to be comfortable moving at a high rate of speed with a pretty stiff breeze trying to knock you on your rear. Bike handling skills and core stability work would be wise additions to your training schedule if you are not already incorporating them.

That said, those who are comfortable can just let 'er rip. There's a small false-flat uphill just before you get back onto 5, but outside of that this is flat to slightly downhill and really, really fast.

Be aware, though, that at the end of the square you'll have a very sharp left to head out onto Route 35 for the next stretch of road. You'll be flying at this point, so be ready to scrub some speed stat.

Miles 33-40: I Thought This Course Was Flat?
Again, it's not flat.

With that out of the way, this part of the course is pretty gentle throughout. Never any hills that should have you concerned if you regularly do some climbing repeats, or have raced at Quassy, this year's Portland bike course, etc.

Be prepared for another decent gust of wind when you hit Route 202 by Hollis. It quickly turns into a tail gust as you turn, and you can really fly down towards the next turn. It's easy to get into a rhythm here. Those who rode a little conservatively on the front side of the course will be able to really let things fly here.

Miles 40-44: Simpson Road
Here is the stretch of road that will eat those who rode too hard out of the gate alive. There's some climbing to be done here. It has the steepest hill of the day. Depending on how many matches you will have burnt by this point, it will be wise to carry a decent granny gear here. I rode pretty comfortably on a 11-26 cassette (53/39 standard crank), but depending on what you typically respond best to I would not be surprised to see a few compact cranks or 27 tooth cassettes.

Miles 44-51: Headed for Home
Time to hit the gas and stay on the pedal: get the calories in, do some work, and get ready to run. Mentally, this stretch is daunting because you have a few turns to navigate, and you've done some of the hardest work already. But you need to have left something for this stretch of road. It'll be very easy to wind up riding too easily here if you lose mental focus. Don't.

At this point, it's also good to start thinking about the run: keep active shifting in mind. Two seconds to let yourself come into transition with fresh legs will be well worth it, so if you find yourself grinding on the pedals, let up on the gearing. A good rule of thumb: if the muscle tension feels "perfect," it's probably one gear harder than the one you want to be in at this point.

Miles 51-56: Back to Old Orchard Beach
This sees you repeat the first five miles that we had talked about before: pretty smooth sailing, straight-forward direction. There's nothing to really bite you hard here, so it'll be good to spin out the legs a touch and get ready for the run.

Overall
I think this course is going to be very rewarding for those who focus on spin efficiency: proper gearing, good aero position, smooth-riding. Those who try instead to will the course into submission will be found survival slogging the run. It is quick; total ride time for the course was 2:44:09. (I raced Quassy in 2:46 as a point of reference.) But I think that's from riding smarter, and not harder.

It's gorgeous scenery, as smooth of a set of roads as you'll find in the state, and challenging. You can't ask for much more out of a bike course. I look forward to racing it in August.