Been training very hard for the CapTex triathlon on Memorial Day. It’s the biggest race in Texas, with about 2600 competitors, including the best pros and elite racers in the state. Because the competition is so fierce, it makes the race a big point-getter in the regional USAT rankings. The more elite racers in the race, and the closer you are to their time, the more points the race is worth and the more points available le to you.
Despite doing Escape from Alcatraz six days later, this was my A race for the season. Planned to leave it all out on the course and put in my best race. The competition did not disappoint. There were approximately 25 pros and elites in the invitational wave and 95 competitors in my age group. Time to get to getting.
My plan was to move quickly on the swim and the bike, but save a bit for the run, since that’s where I always struggle. I was shooting for a 20-minute swim, about 60 minutes on the bike, and 42 on the run. I was aiming a little higher than I thought I was capable of on the run, but wanted to really push to see what I was capable of. Overall, wanted to hit 2:10 for the race.
My age group was split into two waves and I was in the second. Had plenty of opportunity to talk to teammates and friends in transition and in the swim staging area. Texas Iron has really been a good thing for me, both in terms of elevating my training, but also because it forces me to be a little more social than I tend to be normally. I tend to be somewhat introverted as I get ready for the races. I still put the same amount of pressure on myself to perform, but at least I can loosen up and laugh a little before the race. Since the race is in town, there are also a lot of my coworkers or other acquaintances racing.
One of my coworkers is training for Ironman Canada and was an All-American swimmer at Auburn in college. I have been swimming pretty well, and thought I could rival him on the swim. He was in the first wave, so he’d be starting five minutes before me.
Before we got in for our start, the elite wave of swimmers was finishing up their swim. James Boney was first out of the water at a little over 17 minutes, a really fast time. My coaches, Jamie Cleveland and Andrea Fisher were out of the water together about a minute later and took up the chase. I heard right before I got in the water that Andrea’s derailleur broke out on the course, so she was done for the day. I learned from some of the other Texas Iron folks working the event that Jamie had come off the bike about 2 minutes behind Bonney. Now Bonney’s no mean runner. He won the Buffalo Springs half-Ironman two years ago, and is capable of some pretty fast times. Jamie, however, is a freakish runner. He ended up running a 34-minute 10K to catch and pass Bonney. That’s a 5:38 mile average folks!
Anyhow, I got into the water first for my wave and grabbed a spot on t he inside buoy at the front to stay out of the froth. Got a good start and settled into the lead. I saw another swimmer moving in behind me and soon felt him tap my feet to let me know he was there. At the first turn, we started to catch the stragglers from the first 30-34 wave. I settled my pace a little to see if this guy would come through and he slowed with me. No help there.
I started running him over the buoys and the other swimmers we caught to give him a little bit of a hard time for his not contributing. As we made the turn at the far end of the course, he was still with me, tapping my feet every so often. We started catching different colored caps that had started way ahead of us, so these folks were really not on a good swim.
I was feeling pretty smooth, but I was laboring a little. I started to piece together this guy’s intentions and had this nagging feeling that he was going to try to come around me to win the swim prime. I decided I didn’t really want this foot-sucker to take the spoils, so I started lifting the pace to make it uncomfortable. As we rounded the last buoy with about 75 meters to the ramp, I poured it on and sure enough, this guy started to come around. I was breathing to the left and him to the right, so we were goggle to goggle headed in. It was a real drag race. I hit the ramp first although he made it first over the timing mat up on shore. I still consider it a victory. I heard Darlene cheering for me as I went past, but I didn’t’ see her.
Fairly slow transition as I had trouble getting the wetsuit off and getting out on the bike. Bolted down a GU pack on the way out. Got off to a decent start and didn’t push too hard. Started to feel the legs and lungs were with me by the time I made the turn onto Congress headed toward the capitol. The course was already choked with slower riders, but they were behaving well and I made it easily past them. Got a little dicey at the 180 on the top of the course because a lot of these riders were moving slower, and weren’t the best at railing the corners.
Managed through them pretty well and kept a good pace to finish the first 6-mile lap at 14:40. Next lap would be faster because I wouldn’t have the transition wind-up. Kept a mildly uncomfortable pace for the second lap at about 14:20, then 14:30 for the third. I hear Darlene cheering at the turnaround on t he first lap, but not on the subsequent laps. Things were really getting crowded out on the course by now and the dipshits were really making hard to pass. I did a lot of yelling and had to cross the yellow line twice to get around slower traffic. Fortunately, no officials present at either crossing.
I averaged 24.6 mph for the bike and was really moving past the slower riders on the faster sections. Some of these folks were in for a really long day! Coming off the bike, I am barefoot, having left the cleats in the pedals. The lead in to transition is lots of stones and a pebbled sidewalk. I try to tiptoe quickly through to avoid stone bruises on the bare feet. The shoes in the pedals are dragging as I run through transition, and eventually one completely buries itself. This jerks the bike completely out of my hand and it hits the dust. I pick it back up, find my rack and put it away, not noticing that I’ve lost one of the aero bar plugs in the brand new VisionTech brake levers. That caused me much heartache after the race because I haven’t been able to find replacements.
My feet are completely muddy, so I sacrifice a few seconds to wipe them off, but still go sockless in the running shoes. I feel really slow heading out onto the run. I hit the GU again, take a hit off the asthma inhaler and get going. Trying to keep my steps small and light. The hill at the first turn hurts, but I shorten stride, swing the arms and go over. I get to the first aid station at about 6:40, but don’t see any distance markers. I assume it’s a mile, so the first split is not so bad. This is about the pace I need to be going. The uphill to the bridge on Congress really hurts. I make the turn at the top of the course and see a bunch of the non-racing Texas Iron folks cheering. They’re lead by Susan and her husband who are really giving it their all, complete with cowbell pom-poms and lots of cheers.
I finish the first 5K in about 22 minutes, a little off the pace, but I can still recover the time. I hit the last gel pack to keep t he tanks topped. It’s one of the sugary kinds that should burn quickly and give me something soon. I haven’t been able to put down much water because every time I take a drink, I feel about to cough up gel pack. I only made through half a bottle on the bike, and I’m only able to take a cup at every other aid station.
My legs are really starting to feel loaded, but I’m not completely out of wind. I’m breathing hard, but without my HR monitor, I have no clue how close to the edge I am. Still feel like there’s travel left in the throttle to pick it up. The hill leading the first turn on the second lap really hurts and the legs just aren’t responding. I’m slowing down and I can’t seem to pick it back up. Still, no sight of my teammate, Spence, who was just about 90 seconds behind me at T2. He’s a stronger runner than I, so if I can hold him off, I should put in a good run.
Really falling apart now. It really hurts and I just can’t seem to get enough oxygen to keep the legs moving quickly. My stride feels labored and I must look like a 300-pound running man. I keep telling myself to put it back together and pick the pace back up. No response from the engine room. I hit the hill on Congress again and I am almost reduced to a walk. I actually tell myself out loud to go, but just can’t seem to induce myself to make it hurt more. Shortly thereafter, Spence passes me with a word of encouragement. I tell him he’s going well, but I am unable to stay with him. I watch as he drifts away ahead.
My feet are killing me, and the decision to go sockless to save time is proving yet again to be a bad one. I can tell there are a couple spots that will be bleeding. Coming into the last quarter mile, I try to lift the pace and convince myself that if I make it look like I’m going fast, I might be able to convince my lungs and legs to join in. Finish reasonably strong, but completely spent. 47:30. Immediately peel the shoes off to reveal a number of open cuts. I have no intention of tromping around the dusty transition area with bloody feet, so I head to medical tent for some bandages.
Darlene soon joins me and we talk while one of the volunteers cleans and dresses. She was using my new camera and took quite a few good pics of me out on the course. One of the run pics confirms that I run like the Michelin Man. I’ll try to get those up in the gallery to the upper right. She takes off to get out of what has become a blazing hot day. I wander the finishing area to chat with some folks, load up on water, and recover.
Got back to transition, packed the gear, changed, and got out when they opened transition. I was absolutely dripping wet when I got to the truck, but the A/C fixed everything.
Saw the final results and I ended up fourth in my age group, 45th overall. Quite an improvement, but a bit of a disappointment after falling apart on the run. I ended up at 2:13:27 total, including a couple lackluster transitions. I was eight minutes faster than two years ago when I last did the Olympic.
One of my teammates and arch-rivals went 2:06, on a 39-minute 10K. I have room to improve, but I don’t think I can get that fast. Will keep working on the run, pushing for longer tempo runs, etc. Now on to recover for Escape from Alcatraz.
Results: http://www.doitsports.com/newresults3/client/87787_117881_2006.html
Photos: 2006 CapTex Triathlon in the photo section to the right and http://www.kreutzphotography.com/ under Cap Tex Tri (05/29/2006); search for bib 939 or name north.
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