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.

If Tomorrow Wasn't Promised, What Would You Give for Today?

This video's been making the rounds over at Slowtwitch, following Jordan Rapp's disclosure that it helped propel him to his victory at Ironman Texas a couple of weeks back. Go ahead, watch it. I'll wait.

...

...back yet?

So, I've been thinking a lot about this speech as we go into race week again here, with the Rev3 Quassy half on Sunday. And particularly these couple of lines from Mr. Lewis:

Leave your legacy. And it is found through effort. Wins and losses come a dime a dozen. But effort? Nobody can judge effort.

Effort. It's the one thing that is controllable. Other variables will stand in the way, whether we are talking about racing or life in general: the decisions of others; the circumstances that will arise; varying conditions throughout the day, week, etc.

But your effort? Well, you can always give effort. You can always pour your heart and soul into something, give every fiber of your existence to what it is you are trying to accomplish. Whether that will translate into something greater than that is, often times, beyond your control: in racing, your best effort may not result in a high finish simply due to genetics, training volume, injuries, and others; in life, you may still fail in an endeavor because you did not have sufficient knowledge, circumstances beyond your control, etc. But you can always be proud of what you DID accomplish, which comes through how much you give.

This is much like being able to step into the proverbial pain cave: are you going to be willing to suffer, to push yourself to your limits, to not falter despite your body telling you, please, please no. You'll need to soldier on, no matter how hard it is, in order to give your best effort on that particular day. You can control what you can control, and no more. This might result in a phenomenal time. It might take execution through some of the worst circumstances imaginable. But it all remains the same.

It all took effort to get there.

One of the final lines of the video is, "I'm pissed off for greatness. 'Cause if you ain't pissed off for greatness, then you're OK with being mediocre. And there's no man in this room that's OK with being just basic."

How do you get there? Effort. You only achieve greatness by being able to give that effort, to be willing to give all you have, no matter how much nor how little that may be. Greatness is a relative term in an individual sport; a 6-hour effort will be a spectacular failure for an athlete capable of more, but a smashing success for another who has given all that they had to give.

So, to all of my fellow Rev3 Quassy athletes: be pissed off for greatness. Because if you're not pissed off for greatness, then you're OK with being mediocre. And there's not a soul toeing that line Saturday or Sunday morning that is going to be OK with being mediocre. Your efforts will result in greatness.

See you out there.

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

These Are My Famous Last Words...

...set to the tune of Foo Fighters' "Bridge Burning"...

It all comes down to this.

Nineteen weeks of intense training, mental toughness, wanting to quit, and overall work all wrap themselves together to one day. Rev3 Quassy stands but a short few days away.

It's funny, I think that the toughest weeks have been the ones that I have not had intense training. The weeks without big blocks of training have instead allowed me to get into my own head, and I find myself thinking way too much about a whole lot of things.

Have I prepared enough? How fast can I go? What the hell am I thinking? Why am I doing this? I think every athlete goes through this stage of thought process...the nervousness of race day.

To be honest, the toughest part has been thinking about missing my father-in-law, and wishing that he was here to come see things. Although I know he's with me, it doesn't get rid of that selfishness of wanting him along for the ride. Was that messy enough way of saying things? I think it's true, though: I know he's with me, but he's not with me, you know?

At the very least, though, I get to have the wondrous support of Hannah, my lovely wife; my parents; and my extended family will be along for the ride as well. This is going to be a hell of a journey.

This will hurt, it will want to break me. There's no getting around that. But I know I have it in me to race like hell. I will finish with a giant smile on my face. I will be damned happy with what I do. And I'll celebrate for a bit.

Then it's time to get right back down to work, as I've got Timberman on the schedule too. Recovery, followed by good build again.

Will I be competitive? Hell yes. I will carry my ass to the best time that I have within me. Where will that place me? Depends on who shows up on race day. I could be in front, in the middle, hanging off the back end, who knows? All I care about is what I can do.

This is the sign-off for Crashing the Boards until post Rev3. I will have a full race report up next week. Until then, time to crawl back into my headspace, and get ready to race.