Alpe d'Huez Triathlon Race Report

Alpe d’Huez Triathlon Race Report: 1.3 mile swim, 70 mile bike, 13.1 mile run

This was my final race in France. I have been incredibly lucky to travel the way that I have, and a huge thank you needs to go out to the following people/groups: my parents and family, who for some reason continually support me in this sport, the Santos family, who took me on as a complete stranger and allowed me to stay in their home, helping me whenever I needed it, the Rennes Triathlon Club who allowed me to train with them. The list easily goes on to include Team Every Man Jack, my coach Martin Spierings who put me in touch with the Santos family and is keeping me fit, and all of the team sponsors Gu, Roka, ENVE, Louis Garneau, Rudy Project, etc.

A little background on the race: The race is named after the final climb on the bike: Alpe d’Huez. If you know cycling, you know Alpe d’Huez. It is one of the most famous climbs in the Tour de France. It is one of the rides that many cyclists dream of doing. To get up Alpe d’Huez, there are 21 numbered switchbacks, each with a famous cyclist’s name on it. When I started planning my itinerary for France, I saw that this race was an option to do, and I immediately put it on my schedule. I didn’t have any goals for the race other than finishing it and enjoying it.

A picture of the switchbacks.

The swim takes place in a reservoir that is used to power a hydroelectric dam. The reservoir is only open to swim in once a year during the triathlon. Otherwise, swimming is forbidden. The bike is a point-to-point ride, meaning that there are two transition areas: one for your bike gear, and another for your running gear. The bike is 70 miles long (115km), with 14,000 feet of climbing, two beyond category difficulty climbs, and one category two climb. Climbs are rated from 4-HC, four being the easiest, HC meaning hors categorie (beyond category) in terms of difficulty. After finishing the climb, the run is a 3-lap course of rolling hills, with both paved and trail sections at 6,000 feet elevation.

This is the ride profile from my Strava.

After racing Sunday, July 27^th, the Alpe d’Huez triathlon was on Wednesday, July 30^th. That meant after getting back to Pacé around midnight Sunday, I had to pack everything up to leave Monday morning for my train at 5:15 that would take me to Grenoble, and then get on a bus that would take me up to Alpe d’Huez. It wasn’t until around 1 am that I was finished packing, and a few hours later, Virginie drove me to the train station. The train ride was uneventful, with the one exception of having to change stations in Paris. I went from Rennes to Paris Montparnasse, and my second train was from Paris Gare de Lyon, which I didn’t realize when I arrived at Montparnasse. I ended up taking a cab because the stations are several miles apart, and making my train by about 10 minutes. Upon arrival in Grenoble, the bus station is right next door to the train station, so a quick walk over and I was on the bus.

Quick side note: it is very easy to get around France (and most of Europe) by train, bus or cheap plane ticket from small regional airports. The buses are a little trickier to navigate because sometimes they don’t sell advance tickets online, something that is not announced on the website. For this particular bus service, they only sell advance tickets in the winter for people who go up to ski. When you try to buy a ticket during other times of the year, you just get an error saying that there are no buses available. With some help from Virginie and a phone call to the bus company, this was discovered.

On the bus ride from Grenoble to Alpe d’Huez, you get an appreciation of a) how beautiful the alps are, and how steep they are. As mentioned earlier, to get up the mountain, there are 21 numbered switchbacks.

Lance's name is still up there.

Upon arrival at Alpe d’Huez, it was cold and raining. I walked up to my hotel, and was greeted by the owner. The place was beautiful, and empty. When I arrived, besides myself, I think there was only one other couple and two other gentlemen there. During the winter, the town is packed with skiers and such, but during the summer, it only fills up when there are big events like the Tour or other races. I am not sure why it is so empty; it is stunningly beautiful with places to hike, bike, etc. I checked into my room, put my bike together, and wandered around the town to find groceries, restaurants, etc and went for a very quick, very cold ride.

Cold, wet and raining. Not what I was prepared for.

Tuesday morning, I woke up and had breakfast at the hotel (the hotel operates essentially as a bed and breakfast in the summer, but has a full kitchen in the winter when there are more people), picked up my packet, and found a pool to swim in. Pool rules in France are dramatically different than in the US: you must take your shoes off after you get past the gate, and you must be in a swim suit if you are on the pool deck- no clothes. I was shooed of the deck because I was wearing shorts and a shirt trying to take the picture below. At this particular pool, you had to be in a speedo-no shorts allowed for males.

The pool- you can swim outdoor here year round. I can imagine it is awesome in the winter when it is snowing.

In case you are don't have the appropriate swimwear, you can buy some from a vending machine- speedos for guys (and those weird european speedos) and one or two piece options for the gals.

As it was still raining and temperatures were in the low 50s, after swimming, I wandered through the event expo and found a relatively cheap cycling jacket. I didn’t bring any of my cold/rain gear because I figured it is the summer, why would I need it, but I was definitely going to want something for the race. I also generally have a rule of not buying anything at an expo because most items have a huge mark up. At one booth, they had a jacket for 150 euros- about $190 dollars. Even in terms of cycling dollars, that is pretty expensive. I found one for 40 euros, and then made my way back to the hotel. The rest of the day passed like this: A quick jog to stretch the legs and see how much the elevation was going to suck, dinner, a little studying for my courses, race prep and I called it a night.

Minus bike and shoes, everything you need for a race.

Race morning, I woke up and had my standard French breakfast of some baguette with butter, and added in a banana and a yogurt. I made my way down to transition 2 (from bike to run), which was near the hotel and arrived shortly after transition opened, and there was no one else there. The race allows you to give your run gear to volunteers at the swim start, but I was surprised at how few people were there setting up. More on this later.

I left my shoes and a few Gus in the bag they had given us at my spot. There was a chance of rain, and I didn’t want my shoes to be wet before I started. It would cost me a little time in transition, but in reality, I wasn’t too concerned about it.

After setting up my spot, I rode down to the swim (this is actually suggested by the race). It was about a 30-minute descent to the reservoir. I arrived around 7:50, and again, there was hardly anyone there. I set up my bike and gear, and talked with a few of the competitors near by.

Transition finally started filling up around 8:30, with the race set to go off at 9:30.  At 9:00am, there was a huge line to get into transition. There apparently is not much emphasis on being early to races.

Before the race started, they went over some of the typical rules, but the rules were announced in four languages: French, English, Spanish, and Dutch. This was an international race, with competitors from all over Europe, and when I was moving through transition pre race I also heard Italian and German being spoken.

Did you say something about second breakfast? Eating a little more before the race- baguette and a banana.

With about ten minutes to go before the race started, we started filing our way down to the lake. A few brave souls got in the water and splashed around, and then quickly got out. The water temperature was announced to be 13.8 ^oC (about 56 ^oF). In other words, not warm. As with the other races I have done, the swim was a mass start, but this time it was an in water start. I got in with a few minutes to spare, made my way to the starting line, and waited.

Boom. Race started. If this was my first race in France, I would have been very confused. There was no announcement, no countdown, no nothing other than the sound of the gun signaling the start. As what happens normally with my swims, I fell into a crap rhythm for the first few minutes as I struggled with the cold. I found a swimmer’s feet to sit on for a bit while I loosened up.

The first lap of the swim was felt all right as I got used to the cold. I made my way past some of the swimmers in front of me. The water was pretty choppy because of a helicopter overhead filming the race, but by the start of the second lap, I was in a solid pace and I had about ten swimmers in front of me. As the swim progressed, I moved up to 7^th, and exited the water. I got to my bike, dried off as much as I could, slipped on the jacket, gloves, helmet and shoes, and headed out.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement. The ride was 70 miles, a lengthy distance if was just a bike ride, with some huge climbs. My primary concern was running out of food. When you are working out for more than 1-2 hours, it becomes necessary to eat, or else you “bonk”- it doesn’t matter how hard you push, you are out of energy, and you suffer. For a “dad” quote, it is almost always easier to maintain something than to repair something broken. When you bonk, depending on far you have to go, it can be both mentally and physically disastrous. Bonking on the ride meant that I would suffer from that point forward on an incredibly difficult course, and then having to run. Game plan: get through ride so that I could run. Push where I could. Eat and drink. Enjoy it.

Before the race, I taped a piece of paper on my bike with the mile markers for the climbs and aid stations. It kept me going. Each one was a landmark that I could check off. 

I took the beginning part of the ride conservatively. It was cold, with a light rain falling. The course starts out with ~15 miles of flat, before heading up the first climb. In those 15 miles, about 20 riders blew by me. Not eased, but blitzed. Who were these people? Some were obviously professionals, but damn! We had a ton of climbing and riding to do. These athletes were on another level.

On the opening climb, I fell into a rhythm with a pack of cyclists. I talked to some of them, we joked as some of the faster riders eased by us like they were just out for an easy ride as we suffered. As we went up the hill, I started to warm up, and tried to take my jacket off.

Boom. I was on the pavement. In France, when they do road repairs, they sometimes put a thin layer of gravel on top of the repaired segment. I hit a gravel patch, my wheel went sideways, and I was on the ground. I wasn’t going very fast, and I landed hard on my right butt cheek, but nothing else was hurt. A quick look over my bike, and everything was ok. A minute or two later, I was up and riding.

At the top of the climb was an aide station. I grabbed a new water bottle and some gels. Every ~30-45 minutes I was going through a gel and half a bottle at a minimum. The descent was smooth and fast, and it wasn’t until mile 42 that I had another climb. Athletes continued to stream by me, which was mentally tough, but with my only real goal of finishing, I focused on riding.

To say that the aid stations on the ride were awesome is an understatement. They had volunteers holding bottles of water, flat coke, and something they called “energy” (I think it was Gatorade, but I couldn’t tell) and gels that were passing them off to us as we pedaled by at 15-20 miles an hour, and food laid out for us to grab if we stopped. At every aid station at a minimum I grabbed one bottle of water and a bottle of coke or energy which I would pound before I exited the aid station.  At some, I stopped quickly to grab some solid food.

Not from this race obviously, but the handoff between a volunteer and a rider is tricky. The volunteers performed this very smoothly.

This can be a lifesaver on long rides. Why? Because it is sugar and caffeine- what you need to maintain effort. Don’t believe me? Try it. When it is flat, and you are exercising and running out of energy, it is a wonderdrink.

The rest of the ride was simply beautiful. The second climb was shrouded in clouds, the parts that went through small towns had their residents out cheering, kids were banging on small drums yelling “allez”.

In the final miles before Alpe d’Huez, my legs started to tighten up. If I changed my pedaling stroke at all, different parts of my legs would tighten up. I started standing more, which would relieve the tightness, and I downed what food I had before the aid station at the base of the climb. The pain in my right butt had subsided, and with the extra calories in me, it was time to tackle Alpe d’Huez.

As a side note: some triathletes who compete in ironman races have a very detailed nutrition plan that includes eating salt tablets to replenish what is lost in their sweat. For the length of the races that I typically do, this is not necessary. Perhaps that would have fixed the tightness in my legs that I was experiencing in the later stages of the ride. It is something to consider if/when I attempt an Ironman.

Some athletes eat these or put them in their bottles during long, long workouts.

Here is a video of a shirtless guy telling you what he puts in his bottles. I have no idea where on the spectrum of insanity this is, but an example of what some people do.

At the bottom of Alpe d’Huez, I made one agreement to myself. Don’t stop. Don’t get off the bike. Stand, do whatever you need to to get up the hill. It is about 8 miles long, and with all of its switchbacks and elevation, it was going to suck. To steal a quote from a fellow triathlete, embrace the suck.

The first four switchbacks are steep and miserable. I was in a group of about 5 athletes, and we were slowly, very slowly making our way up the hill, picking off riders in front of us. I had wanted to not be in my smallest chain ring so that if I needed it, I could fall back on an easier gear, but that wasn’t an option. My cadence slowed, but I was moving up. The stream of riders going by me had slowed to only one every now and then. It gave me a little satisfaction to pull back riders on the last climb- see! This is hard, you should have paced yourself!

I mixed standing and sitting on the way up the hill. As I went up, I chopped the hill into pieces. You have done seven switchbacks! That’s a third. You only have to do that two more times, etc. Mentally, it is what I had to do to get up it. I knew that there were two aid stations on the climb, so I only slowed to grab the handoff supplies of bottles and gels.

When I reached the final four switchbacks, a new challenge: wind. The wind was coming down the mountain, making it cold and slow. This close to the top, it was going to take a lot more than wind to get me to stop. I knew that I was going to make it. A huge sense of relief came over me. The race so far didn’t matter, the rest of the race didn’t matter. I was going to finish the climb.

At the top, I felt terrible. My legs were in bad shape (hmm, I wonder why?) and I slow pedaled into transition. After staying in a flat part of France for the past several weeks, I had not done a significantly climb in almost two months. My bike split was slow(5:07, the 245th fastest time on the day...) but I did it. I slipped on my socks and shoes, shoved the two Gus I had placed with them into my pockets (on runs in races that are longer than 10km, I wear socks to reduce the risk of blisters).

My mantra on runs during races is “anyone can run”. I repeat it to myself when I am struggling. Why aren’t you running faster John? Anyone can run! So RUN.

Richard Simmons believes that everyone can be fit. Having this guy in your head should always bring a smile to your face. And if you are really feeling down, watch this.

The one thing that races in France can do a considerably better job of doing is posting the course profile and segments online. All that was listed on the website was the shape of the run loop, but nothing about the hills. The first loop was like a first date: let’s exchange questions to see if we are a good fit as we do some activity together. In this case, it was discovering where the hills were, the aid stations, and how my body felt.

This is the run profile from my Strava. You can clearly see the three laps.

To use the most appropriate verb to describe the beginning part of the run would be “shuffle”. My core was tight, my legs hurt. I left transition with a couple of other athletes, and with the course being loops, there were already a lot of other athletes out on the course.

On the run, I talked with the other athletes as we ran, which helped. We talked about the run, our jobs, family, etc. Those moments took our mind off of the discomfort. Some exchanges lasted only a few seconds- “keep it up”, “this sucks”, “yes we make poor life decisions”, others lasted a few minutes if our paces overlapped. Sometimes I would slow my pace a touch to match someone. I spent about four minutes talking with a gentleman from Germany, discussing our travel plans for the summer.

On the second and third lap, I picked up the pace a bit. I had stopped on the first lap to water the plants, and my legs were feeling pretty solid. Downing some combination of water/coke/energy, a piece of banana, or energy bar at each aid station helped considerably to both my physical and mental state. There were sections of the run where there was a light rain falling, which made it a little chilly, but then the sun would break through. The looped course also helped because it meant that I always had a crowd in front of me to chase. I wasn’t being passed with any frequency like I had been on the bike, and I was moving by others regularly.

At the end of the run, a huge smile busted across my face. I finished. My run split: 1:40:03, 70th fastest. It was honestly the most physically demanding race I had done. I finished 115th out of 900 finishers and about 1000 racers (a fair number quit on the course), but to be honest, I was just happy. After the race I took advantage of the post race food, and they had ice water baths and hot water baths that you could sit in.

After about an hour, I collected my gear, headed to the hotel, and skyped with my mom and sister. My stomach started to remind me that I just raced, so I headed out to the town and grabbed some food at a small restaurant. A lot of the restaurants are designed for tourists and are rather pricy, but I found a place that serves traditional French food for a reasonable sum.

This is called a galette. Essentially it is a crepe filled with whatever you want. Mine: egg, ham, bacon, tomato, onion. Paired with a glass of wine, delicious.

And two scoops of ice cream. Toffee and coconut. One reason to return to France? The ice cream IS AMAZING. 

After dinner, I headed back to the hotel, had a beer at the bar with the staff, and packed up my gear. The next morning, I took the bus to the train station, made the same switch between stations in Paris, and then back to maison Santos.

This was my view on the way down. Stunningly beautiful.

I am glad to have done it, and if I have the opportunity to come back to do it again, I will absolutely do so. From the race, to the travel, to the accommodations (if you have a chance to go to the Alpes, stay at Hotel Beausoleil- I don't have a single complaint about the place), everything was perfect. If you have the opportunity to do the race, do it. It was amazing. 

The Oxford Comma, A New Year, A New Team, and Red Velvet Cookies

This is a race report for the Stanford Treeathlon. For a too long; didn't read version- I am glad to be part of a tri team, the work I put in the offseason seems to be paying off, I won the age group division, lost to a college kid who started in a different wave by 3 seconds, and my 5k run was a 17:22-a PR as a 5k within a race, and close to a standalone PR. Keep reading for entertaining commentary on the oxford comma, daylight savings time, and more about the race.

Training for triathlons can be a solitary activity. Hours are spent looking at the black line at the bottom of the pool, pushing pedals and hitting the pavement. While you may find people with whom you can train, with my schedule of teaching, coaching, and tutoring, my free time is limited to irregular hours.

Yes, I did just use an oxford comma in last sentence. I will continue to use it, even if the Oxford Style guide tells me not to.

At the end of last summer, my coach Martin suggested that I apply for membership on a triathlon team. There are many reasons to be part of a team, ranging from having set times for workouts, getting pushed by other athletes, and adding friends who understand what it means when you just did a 4x5 min z4 workout on your trainer and then added a brick run just to see how your legs responded (yes, that is still english).

I applied to a few teams, and I received a spot on the Every Man Jack (EMJ) tri team. As mentioned in an earlier post, this team is quick.

How quick? Here is the list of All Americans on the team, divided by age group. To be considered an All American, you must be in the top 10% of the athletes in your age group. Out of a team of 54 guys, 34 earned this honor. I snuck on to the list.

The team has a couple workouts a week, which has forced me to commit to those workouts, as opposed to trying to fit them in at random times during the day. The structure of the training was nice, and now I was working with people who are faster than me. Being on a team also meant that at races, I would have people to cheer for, talk to, etc.

I occasionally do my track workouts after swim practice, which means I am getting to the track around 9pm, when the last of the high school teams are finishing up.

This is what I see when I am finished. The lights have long since been turned off.  It is dead quiet, and I am running by the light of the moon/stars.  

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to race at the Stanford Treeathlon (cute, I know). It was my first race as a member of EMJ, and I was excited to wear the new kit. The new kit is a two piece, which was a first for me. A member of the team told me that if you have a muffin top, it sticks out. Note to self-don't carry muffin tops as fuel.

I don't even know why you would eat the bottom of the muffin. The top is so much better.

Even though this was not a team race, and no other EMJ guys were going to be there, I had made a few friends in the past year and an athlete who worked with Martin was going to be there as well. Having put in the work in the offseason, I was excited to see what I could do, and watch what my friends were capable of doing as well. Personally, I had been doing some fast track workouts, and after getting my rear end handed to me on some long rides by members of EMJ and a local group organized on Facebook, I had some confidence going in.

The night before the race, I packed up my gear, and headed to bed early. The race was on the morning of Daylight Savings Time, which meant that I was going to lose an hour of sleep. When the alarm went off, I groggily got out of bed and made my way down to the race.

For the rest of the country that is covered in snow, no, this is not how daylight savings works.

After setting up my spot in transition, I found some of my friends at the race, and chatted for a bit. We noted that there were a lot of college athletes there, which meant the course was going to be crowded. More to navigate around/get passed by. All things to think about.

For the course, the race starts with a swim through a marina (~500 meters, I think it is longer), followed by a long run to t1, then three laps on a pancake flat lollipop shaped course, and a flat out and back run. The race was done in waves, with the collegiate men going first, then collegiate women five minutes later, and then my wave of the age group males going five minutes after that.

The first waves went off, and I hopped in the water to stretch out, and get ready. It wouldn't be a race if I didn't make a mistake. The day was cloudy, and I had brought my dark goggles. It would make sighting the buoys slightly more difficult. Such is life. At the gun, I took off for the first buoy, and noticed I had a swimmer on either side of me.

After the first 50 yards, the two swimmers slowed and fell in on my feet to draft. At the first turn buoy, I made sure to squeeze it tightly to make sure they couldn't cut the corner, and then I put in a 20 second all out effort. I didn't want to be dragging the swimmers with me, so away I went. After the effort, I took a quick look back, and I had gapped the field by about 5 seconds. Not enough to make a huge difference, but it did mean that they would have to work harder to keep pace.

The rest of the swim was uneventful. I hit the ladder out of the marina in first, and started booking it for t1. Last year I had been caught by another athlete on the run to transition, and I did not want to let that happen. I ran over to my bike, slipped on my shoes, helmet and glasses and took off with my bike. The transition was definitely a little slow- I need to work on leaving my shoes on the bike as opposed to putting them on first, but that would require me to have triathlon shoes or jerry-rig my current shoes.

On the bike, I turned my legs over at a high cadence, and pushed the tempo as high as I could without building up lactic acid. I was navigating through the waves of people who were on the course. As time went on, the course became more and more crowded, making it more difficult to keep pace safely. It also meant that there were packs of riders essentially drafting off each other, which is a no-no, but close to impossible to avoid on this course. I got caught a few times behind packs going into turns, and had to wait for openings to slip by them.

Whatever traffic I was going through, the rest of the field had to be dealing with it as well, so I did not get too worked up about losing time. I controlled my effort, and pushed on to the run.

In t2, I racked my bike, grabbed shoes and visor, and headed out. At this point, I was passing the collegiate women and some of the men. With an out and back course, I could see the fastest men on the home stretch. I tried to do the math to figure out what their finishing time would be. Were they more or less than ten minutes in front of me? I couldn't figure it out fast enough, so I put their times out of my head and focused on the run.

The run went by quickly. I hadn't been passed on the bike, which means I had a lead over the rest of my field. Having forgotten to check my watch when I left for the run, I was unsure of what my first mile split was. I made it a point of getting my second mile split, and it was between 5:35 and 5:40. I was moving, and feeling good. I pushed through the rest of the run, finishing the 5k in 17:22. That is close to a PR for a 5k as a standalone event.

Splits, as comparing last year to this year:
Last year                   This year
Swim 8:24                 9:20
T1 :54                        1:02
Bike 29:29                 28:57
T2 :34                        :48
Run 18:20                  17:22

Was I really a minute slower on the swim? The course was a little different, and I hadn't taken the best lines. My transitions can definitely improve, but it was the first race of the year, and last year I was chasing people who were beating me. I still shouldn't give up time there. On the bike, I think I could have been faster with fewer people on the course, but with some improvement, I will take it. I am really happy with my run- almost a full minute faster with just running by feel/not trying to catch somebody. Overall, I had the fastest swim, and I was within ~20 seconds of the fastest bike. The fastest run was a 15:53, which is ridiculously fast for a 5k. Definitely something to aspire to.

At the end of the race, I caught up with Gunnar, who had finished second in his age group with a solid race. I also got my hands on some of these cookies:

Red velvet cookies from Safeway. Almost as good as birthday cake Oreos. If you haven't tried either, you haven't tasted deliciousness. Click on the link. You can order them from Amazon. Amazing.

Gunnar and I smiling for the camera. He placed second in his age group.

They did awards by age group; this is what I won- a nice little coaster

With the second and third place finishers in my age group.

For the first race of the season, I was pretty happy with how I finished. I ended up getting second overall including the collegiate men by 3 seconds. The new kit was actually pretty comfortable, and had pockets that I will be taking advantage of in longer races by putting fuel in them. I hope that this is a good start to the rest of the season. Thanks to the Stanford Triathlon team for putting on a good race, Every Man Jack for allowing me to be on the team, Roka wetsuits, and Gu Energy for powering me, Louis Garneau for making a comfortable kit, and for my coach Martin for helping me through another winter of training. I am very much looking forward to racing this spring and summer and seeing what will happen.

Real Running

Running has exploded recently. There are 5ks, 10ks, color runs, run for various charitable causes, etc. Individuals/corporations have convinced enough people to run while they are bombarded with food coloring, being chased by people dressed up as zombies, etc to be profitable. Mostly these events are not "competitive" in the sense that they do not draw the fastest crowds, but are for fun.

Given that it is Thanksgiving, people obviously need to run to burn off all of the empty calories that they are going to be eating afterwards, so most communities have some form of a "Turkey Trot". Piedmont is no different, and for a town of roughly ~10,000 people, the race has around 2,000 runners each year. Typically, in the crowd, there are some fast runners, mainly college kids who are coming back, and some parents in the community who are very fast.

Earlier this year, I had won a smaller edition of a similar race in town, that had only attracted ~700 runners, and none of the typical faster runners. I had been flirting for the past few months with trying to make myself into a "real" runner, someone who actually maybe kinda sorta doesn't always hate running and might actually enjoy it from time to time when the moon is in the third phase of Saturn but under the watchful eye of Scorpio.

I put effort into my longer runs, and my runs were more consistent, and after this short experiment with running, I decided to put myself in with the self seeded runners at the front of the Turkey Trot.

Typically at these smaller community races, kids like to line up at the front and take off at the gun for about 20 yards. That is fun and awesome, until the rest of the field comes behind them and then this happens: 

The rest of the field comes bearing down on them like a pack of hungry zombies. Kids get knocked over, limbs fly everywhere, and then it's the end of the world.

The race had a small section just behind the start line where you could self seed if you thought that you were capable of running the course under 18 minutes, and with about 4 minutes to go to the start of the race, there were only two or three people in there with me. Then a few more showed up, and then came a few more, and there ended up being about 10-12 of us in the front corral. 

Some of the runners in the front corral.

At the start, we took off. There was dead silence except for the pounding of feet against the pavement, and the breathing of the runners. This was no joke. 

Through the first half mile, the race is pretty flat/downhill, and the group only stretched out a little. I put myself in a group of three that was behind the front group by about 3 seconds heading into the first uphill. Living nearby, I run these hills all the time, and I figured that I would be able to make up ground on the uphills, and my weakness, in comparison to the other runners, would be the flats. 

I was wrong. These were actual runners. I only pulled one guy on the first uphill, and one person behind me shot up the hill and took the lead and gapped the field by a few seconds. This was going to be a race. 

The first mile had a net elevation change of zero (see course map), and I was through in 5:35, and sitting in about 7th place. I had already lost sight of the leaders, but I was just behind two runners, so I wasn't alone. 

The second mile started out flat, and then proceeded up a long, steady incline. Again, I hoped that my legs would allow me to make up time on the people in front and to gap the runners I was with, and again, I was wrong. I only pulled back one person in front, and I was passed by another, so my overall position didn't change. With the uphill, the pace slowed to about 6:10. 

What goes up must come down, and seeing how I was bigger than most of the runners in front of me, I hoped that my heavier mass would allow me to get down the hill faster than them, since I was incorrect about my perceived strength of running uphill. 

And I was wrong again. These were actual runners. The pace quickened down the hill, their cadence was super high, and they flew down the hill. The gap between the runners in front of me widened again, and they were away. The last mile split was ~5:20. I held on to my spot to finish 7th overall, 3rd in the 20-29 age group with a time of 17:04. 

Trucking up to the finish.

My sister also ran in the race-her first road race. With no prep, some walking and talking with friends, and running part of the way with a friend's dog, she finished her first 3mile race. I am proud of her, and hopefully she will get bit by the running bug as I somewhat have.

A post race picture where Katy, one of her friends and I were clearly not ready for it.

Slightly more prepared.

Things to take away: real runners run fast. There are more of them out there. I have a lot of work to do if I want to make up that ground. Keeping healthy will be key. I am currently dealing with a bit of heel discomfort/pain that comes and goes, and hopefully I will be able to sort that out as I push on with the offseason of training.

Now that coaching water polo is over, I will try to keep this more up to date. Thanks for reading.

5k run and swim

On Saturday, I had the opportunity to support two causes that are close to me. The first of which is a school district where I work has a wellness center to help students who are struggling with stress, depression and any other form of mental health issues, and for the past three years they have put on a fundraiser 5k. I ran in it last year, and signed up again to give me something to train for through the months that I am coaching water polo.

Shortly after I signed up for the race, the master's team that I occasionally swim with as my schedule allows announced that they were doing a swimathon to raise money for a friend who is battling cancer. She was a former age group swim coach of mine, and my babysitter. Looking at the timing of the events, I realized that it would not be a problem to do both. If you would like to donate to support my friend, comment below or message me, and I will get you the details. I will match every donation.

For the run, I knew that my preparation would be pretty solid. After racing at nationals, and my disappointing run, I made a commitment to myself to run every day for 100 days. Some days it is as little as a mile, but I have been averaging roughly 3.5 miles/run. I have also been doing roughly one track workout a week to help with my speed. I am about halfway through my 100 day commitment, and my legs have been feeling pretty solid, so I went into the race hoping to come away faster than last year.

I got to the race, and with the race being put on by the school district, many of my current and former students were there. A few of my water polo players were there, and a few of the people I train with at the track workouts were there, so I knew that there would be some competition. 

I did my usual warm-up, and made my way to the start line. As this is a community race, a bunch of the younger kids like to line up at the start, so the first three or four rows of racers are all kids under 14. While this is adorable, it is also a little dangerous. They sprint the first 25-50 yards, and then slow down. Behind them are another ~400 racers who are running who are now effectively playing dodge the kid to avoid running them over.

I lined up about 4 rows deep with some of the people that I do the track workouts with, and we laughed at the little kids in front of us. At the start, as predicted, the little kids took off. Then one tripped. Then two more tripped. Within the first 100 yards, we had the potential for a bunch of people to get hurt. I carefully picked my way around the kids, and one of my track friends (Steve) went with me.

Through the first mile, I was running side by with a guy I didn't know (henceforth, Nemo), and Steve was behind us by a few steps. The first mile was all flat or downhill, and it ticked off quickly in just under 5:30. I was noticing that Nemo was pulling ahead a little on the flats, but with my superior mass (I weighed more than him by a bit), I was able to use my momentum to keep pace on the downhill.

Then came the first hill. Hills are one thing that I get to run regularly around here, so I pushed the tempo up the hill, and Nemo and Steve fell behind by about ten seconds. The hill was pretty short, and followed by a short flat section, and I was quickly caught again. I knew that the course was hilly, and assuming that I could push the later hills, the course would play into my favor.

Here's the course. Downhill, then uphill, then downhill...and you get the point.

The next hill came quickly, and it was a long one. It goes from the middle of Piedmont to almost the top. I kept my rhythm pretty steady until about halfway up, and then put the pace down a little. The breathing and footsteps that had been right on my shoulder faded away, and I was able to put some time between the two trailing runners.

At the top of the hill, I let my legs go beneath me on the downhill. I wasn't hurting after the hill, but I knew that there was a brief climb at the end, so I would need to save something for that if I was caught. I started making mental notes as I passed spectators and volunteers in the timing of the cheers for Nemo and Steve to try and judge how far behind me they were. In the past I would have looked, but I am trying to get away from that and run with confidence, rather than fear of getting caught, so I kept my eyes forward and my ears back.

I noticed that the gap was getting smaller, but I knew that I had one more hill at the end. I slowed my tempo just a bit to save my legs, and at the base of the hill, I could hear one set of footsteps behind me by a few strides. This is when I threw down what I had left.

The gap slowly got bigger, and at the top of the hill, I took a quick look behind me and saw that I had about 8 seconds on Nemo. Steve wasn't in sight. I pushed through the end, and finished in 17:57, more than a minute faster than my result from last year.

I waited around for a few minutes to congratulate the other finishers, and then I grabbed my stuff to head over to the swim-a-thon. There was a wave of swimmers going off at 9:30, and I was planning on being in that wave. I had raised a bit of money (if you want to donate, you still can-either a flat rate or a per lap donation), and I was looking forward to seeing my friend who was going to show up.

I ended up swimming mostly by myself, and doing 25x200s, to do 5000 yards in one hour and one minute. The team was able to raise more than $3500, and hopefully we will be able to pull more in the next couple of days.

Logistics

Before writing the rest of this post, some people need to be recognized for helping me this season. I raced at USAT Age Group Olympic Distance National Championships in Milwaukee this past weekend, and it could not have happened without the support of my family, my coach Martin, Marielle Allschwang, Adam Carlson and my friends. Thank you.

Most people who do triathlons have competed in one of the three disciplines first, either swimming, cycling or running. For each particular discipline, there is a relatively short laundry list of items you need to bring. For a triathlon, you need all of those bits and then usually a few extra pieces, and leaving one thing behind can lead to disaster.

This is the list put out by USAT. Extensive, and some items are unnecessary, but you get the point.

To do a triathlon, you plan out when and how you are going to get to a race, and then as the race nears, you start packing away your goggles, towel, tri suit or whatever you are going to race in, race belt, sunglasses, helmet, gels, running shoes, cycling shoes, bike. You make your final plans on when to get to the race, when to go to packet pickup, how early you are going to wake up the morning of the race, the meals you are going to have in the days leading up to the race. You decide what your workouts are going to be in the final days so that you are ready when the starting gun goes off.

When a wrench is thrown in the way of your plans, you have usually two options: Freak out, or be flexible enough to change your plans so that your race goes off uninterrupted. This weekend was the most complicated race that I had ever done, for a variety of reasons.

The race was the first time that I had to fly to a race and that I would not have access to a car, so it meant that I couldn't forget anything, or if I had any problems, I would have a harder time fixing them.

Since I was flying to the race, it meant that I had to figure out how to get my bike there. I could ship the bike, or fly with it. Shipping meant at least $250 in expenses, plus being without my bike the week before and week after the race. Flying meant $150 in charges for oversized baggage (Southwest airlines charges $75 each way, cheaper than most other airlines I looked into, and they let you fly with two bags for free- a definite bonus). I reached out to some of my triathlon friends to see if they had a bike box. Fortunately for me, Adam, who I swim with and run with (who regularly smokes me during the track workouts) had one, so it meant that I didn't need to rent one.

This...

had to go in here. Fortunately, youtube videos provided the guidance, and Adam provided the case.

After figuring out how to get myself and all of my gear to the race, I needed to figure out when to get to Milwaukee, and how long to stay. With a well connected older brother, I got in touch with Marielle, who was willing to let me stay at her flat which was about three miles from the race site, which saved me money on a hotel room. A search of flights, and I found out that the cheapest way to get there would be to leave Thursday morning, and then leave Saturday immediately after the race. (If you want a good flight search engine, use google.com/flights. I find it easier to use than Travelocity, Priceline, etc).

Flight booked, bike packed, it was time to get to Milwaukee. My parents drove me to the airport Thursday morning, and I was able to make it to Milwaukee without any hiccups. Into a shuttle I went, and I made it to Marielle's flat with no problem. One of her roommates let me in, and I checked my email to confirm when packet pickup would be open.

You know you are in Milwaukee when...

When you go to races, the race organizers love to send you lots of emails. Most of them are filled with garbage from retailers trying to sell you stuff, but in the latest email came this nugget of information:

"No bags are allowed in transition. Any items you normally would keep in a backpack in transition should be checked into the bag check tent using the clear plastic bag that athletes will receive at packet pick-up. This is the only bag athletes can use for bag check. Backpacks placed in the clear plastic bag will not be accepted. If you do not want to utilize the bag check, USA Triathlon suggests leaving items in your car, with family/friends or in your hotel room. "

No bags in transition other than a garbage bag? Leave your backpack in a hotel room, car, or with family or friends? None of those applied to me. I was planning on riding my bike down to the race the morning of with my backpack, so now it just meant that I would be riding my bike down to the race with a garbage bag.

I went down to packet pick up, and got my race number, timing chip, and garbage bag, and then made my way to a grocery store to find food for the next few days. I didn't want to spend more money than I had to, and I wanted to be safe with the food that I was eating, so I grabbed some fruits and vegetables, some deli meat, a loaf of bread and pop tarts to feed me over the next few days.

These were given in the goody bag with packet pickup. Now I could race for the USA Triathlon Age Group National Championship with free socks from China!

Friday morning, I woke up and went for a ride along the route and swam in Lake Michigan, where the race was being held. Without a car, I rode down to the race site with my backpack containing my swim gear (not yet prohibited as it wasn't race morning), found a volunteer who let me leave my bag at her booth, and stretched my legs on the bike. The course was very flat, which would be something new for me. I put in a few minutes at effort and then went back for a swim. The water temperature was in the high 60s, and I felt loose and fast in the water.

I left my bike next this one while I swam. I figured that if someone was going to steal a bike, it would be the one worth three times mine. Fortunately, both my bike, and the person's whose bike this was were still there after my swim.

I collected my gear, and rode back to Marielle's. I checked the event website one more time to make sure I hadn't missed anything, and I saw this on the published schedule:

Mandatory bike check-in? This means that I had to leave my bike at the race site the night before the race. This wasn't listed in any of the emails that had been sent out. With a mandatory bike check-in, it meant that I wouldn't be able to ride down to the race with my garbage bag. I decided that I would ride back down to the race site to talk to an official to see if I could not leave my bike so that I could get to the race. The answer: no. What if I pretended that I was just out warming up with my bike when I showed up? No. Bikes were not allowed to leave transition for any reason race morning unless you had a mechanical problem.

A triathlete brought his trainer (the green thing) with him to the race so that he could get around the fact that you were not allowed to take your bike out of transition to warm up on before the race. Smart, but a little excessive in my mind. It probably meant that he was a local or drove to the race. There was no way that I could fly with that.

Well, that sucks. No biking down to the race, no backpacks, no bike warm-up. Talking about screwing with my plans. I left my bike in my assigned spot, and in my anger, and grabbed a cab to get back rather than walk. I had walked 6 miles yesterday going from Marielle's down to packet pick up and back, so I justified it as resting up for the race.

I got back to Marielle's, made myself some dinner, wrote a paper for the online classes I am taking (more on that in another blog post), and figured out how I was going to get down to the race the next morning. I didn't want to risk calling a cab and having it not show up, so I looked up the bus schedule. Another shout out to google-their map app on your phone has a public transportation function, so I was able to find a pretty easy way of getting to the race, only having to walk a block to the bus stop and transferring once, and being dropped off within a block of the race.

If you hit that trolley icon at the top, the app shows you how to take public transportation from the locations you put in. It even allows you to select when you want to depart/arrive. 

With a game plan on getting to the race, I started loading my gear into the garbage bag. I realized that it was not going to be big enough to hold my wetsuit, towel, cycling shoes.... so I grabbed the grocery bag from my shopping trip and used that as well. Finally, all I had to do was shower, and sleep.

Race morning, I was up at 4:30am. I needed to be on the bus at 5 so that I could make it to transition by 5:30am when it opened. I wanted to be there early in case I had forgotten anything. I ate a quick breakfast of a chocolate fudge poptart and a banana, and grabbed my gear. Holding my garbage bag and grocery store bag, wearing my aero bike helmet, I made my way down to the bus stop.

Made the first bus...

And with my transfer pass, made it to the race site.

Fortunately, Milwaukee's buses were running on time Saturday morning, and I made my transfer and I made it to the race site just after transition opened up. I looked over my bike, checking the tires, brakes and gears to make sure everything was in working order. After I set up my spot, I realized that I had forgotten one item-a pair of shoes to wear while I waited for the race to start. The race was huge (more than 2700 athletes), so the race sent off the athletes in waves by age group. My wave for the race didn't start until just after 9am, but transition closed at 7:30, so I would have to wait around with bare feet from 6am until race time.

After setting up my spot, I grabbed my goggles, cap, wetsuit, and my garbage bag. I plugged in my head phones, found a bench to lay on, munched on some of the food I brought with me, and waited for race time. With about 30 minutes to go until my race started, I changed into my tri suit, went for a quick jog, put on my wetsuit, dropped off my garbage bag at the bag drop and made my way over to the start line. There were no more hiccups that could get in the way before the start of the race.

The transition area before the race started. There were at least 12 rows of bikes, probably around 60 yards long. It had to fit ~2700 athletes and their gear.

At the start, I took a look around. Swimmers give themselves away by the type of goggles they use, and I found a few likely candidates. I put myself next to some who were chatting about swimming in college, so I knew that I would have some company on the swim. I jumped out and pushed the tempo for the first minute or so to get away from the field, and my new friends went with me. I found myself leading the race, with one other guy on my left. I slowed to get down to a sustainable pace and no one was willing to go by me, so I slowed one more time, and the swede wearing swimmers took over the pace making. I fell on their feet, and settled into my rhythm.

The rest of the swim was uneventful. Having done a bunch of open water swimming this year, I was much more comfortable in the water, and I ended up having my fastest swim ever. I was in the top 8 or so of swimmers in my age group, about a minute faster than I had planned. Swim split: 18:37.

I struggled out of the water. To get out, you had to climb up a steep, slippery dock. There were several volunteers there who were helping us out, but even with their help, I slipped twice trying to get up and off the dock. After finally making it up, I stripped out of my wetsuit and ran to my bike.

Helmet, sunglasses, shoes, go. I got everything on, and ran to the mount line. At this point, my age group was catching the tail ends of the age groups in front of us, and I had to space out my mount on to my bike. Others were stopping and getting on, I spotted an opening, ran and jumped, and was off on the bike.

This is a pretty decent video of how to get on to your bike quickly and off of it. You can see that the guy racing saves time over the people who are stopped and getting on their bike slowly.

There was already a little wind, but I was still pushing 24 mph on the flat course. I kept my heart rate low, and kept my cadence high. This was going to be an interesting ride for me, as I haven't had many races where the course was completely flat. I didn't need to plan for any hills or tricky turns, all I had to do was keep from getting too excited and going too hard on the bike.

Early on the bike, I got passed by a few riders. And by passed, I mean they blitzed by me. I thought that I was moving pretty well, and I was surprised by how much faster they were going. I just had a great swim, and I was already being passed? I pushed the tempo a little more, and tried to limit the damage.

About three quarters of the way through the bike, I knew that I was moving solidly, and I had a good chance of beating my goal time. Apart from the two or three riders who passed me early on, not many others passed me. Legs felt tired but good, and I started mentally preparing for going over the one hill (actually a bridge) on the course.

After the bridge was a quick descent down into transition. I got off my bike, again with my fastest bike split: 1:00:05.

I headed into t2 and tried to make my way to my spot. I accidentally ran down the wrong aisle, which cost me a few seconds, slipped into my shoes and grabbed a gel, and took off. I knew that I was going to need a good run, but not a personal best run to make my goal time.

As usual, the first few miles hurt and I found it difficult to get into a rhythm. The first two miles ticked off at just over 6:15 minute pace. I knew that this wasn't fast enough, so I pushed the third mile and got under 6 minutes. Then I got passed by two people who were moving quickly. I knew that I was sitting somewhere near 10-12th place in my age group, and getting passed like this on the run was mentally tough. My legs were tightening up, so I shoved my gel down my throat, grabbed liquid at one of the aid stations and tried to hold on. My fourth mile split ballooned up  to 6:11, and then my fifth mile was at 6:15. My goal time was slipping away, and I got passed by another runner from my age group.

I let out an expletive looking at my watch. I had just over 6 minutes to run the last 1.2 miles of the race to get under my goal time. I turned my watch over to the bottom side of my wrist so that I wouldn't look at it, and pushed with what I had left. My last mile was 5:37, but with the extra .2 of a mile, it wasn't enough to get under my goal time of 2 hours flat. I stopped my watch at 2:00:20.

I was disappointed. Hours on the bike, time spent on the track and in the water to be so close. My run was not what I had hoped it to be. The race had almost gone perfectly. Fastest swim, fastest bike. I just didn't have it in the tank to put down the run that I know am capable of doing. I didn't know where I had finished overall or in my age group, but I also knew that I was on the cusp of being in the top 18 in my age group, which means I had a chance of making the Team USA team for World Championships.

After the race, I had to deal with logistics again. I had about three hours to get all my gear, get back to Marielle's, and pack up my bike and luggage before the shuttle came to take me to the airport. I made my way over to get a print out of my results, and get my bike and gear. Due to a few competitors still on the course, the officials didn't open up transition, so I had to wait around for an hour to get my bike, which meant that I had a little more than two hours until the shuttle arrived.

My results. It says that I was 20th overall because some of the waves that started after me hadn't finished yet. My transitions need to be faster.

Once transition opened up, I loaded everything into my garbage bag, put the bag on my aero bars, and road back. I quickly packed up my gear, took apart my bike, and with two minutes to spare, had everything put away before the shuttle came. I made my flight home, and my parents came to meet me at the airport. They took me out to my favorite Chinese restaurant, and finally home where I passed out.

Despite the wrenches and the speed bumps, a successful race. I finished 52nd overall, out of more than 2700 other competitors. In my age group, I finished 14th out of 151. I had personal bests on the swim and the bike, and a run that I know I can improve on.

Takeaways from the race:
1) There are a lot of very fast triathletes out there.
2) Too much of my racing is mental. I need to stay within myself and not get down when I get passed.
3) I need to have a greater sense of urgency in transition. My times for the swim and bike were well below what I had hoped, but I can be faster going between each discipline. Also, making the mistake of going down the wrong aisle was a product of fatigue and a huge mental lapse that cost me time. Without that mistake, I might have been under my goal time. A huge rookie mistake.
4) I am tired of sacrificing convenience for safety. I understand wanting to be safe after what happened during the Boston Marathon, but not allowing athletes to have a backpack? I fear that next year, they are going to prevent us from bringing shoes, or bottles over 6 ounces or whatever the limit is on plane flights.

For this season, serious racing is over. I might do a few road races or open water swims, but nothing major. Takeaways from the season:
1) Without a group to train with, having a coach was key. In Williamsburg, I had friends to run with, and a cycling group to whoop on me. When I moved to California, I didn't have either of those. I now have people to run and swim with, but having Martin write workouts adds consistency to my training. After working with him for eight months, I can honestly say that I can count the number of workouts I have missed on only one hand.
2) I can be faster. I truly believe that my bike and run can get faster, and I can be faster in transition. It will take time, but I know that I can do it.
3) I made huge improvements this season. While taking into consideration that the course can dictate how fast you go (flat vs hilly course), I dropped more than 6 minutes from my previous best in the Olympic distance triathlon. In all of 10 km runs in my triathlons this year were under 40 minutes, regardless of how much rest I was racing on.
4) The sport can consume you if you let it. To not miss workouts, I was frequently running or doing cycling roller workouts after 10pm. Friday night social activities were cut short so that I could get a long ride or swim in Saturday morning. It definitely hurt some of my personal relationships at the expense of my training. Finding balance was difficult this year.
5) Triathlons are expensive. Races can range from $60-400+. Then you need to get to and from the races, and the gear is not cheap. Is it more expensive than other sports? Yes. Is it more expensive than as intense training program? Compared to crossfit? To be determined in a future post.
6) I am already thinking about next season. After two days off, my body is wondering when my next workout will be. Will I be able to balance teaching, coaching two sports and training? I did it for one year. I can do it again.