Anatomy of a Race-Ready Vehicle

This is one of Bmullane's best moves,
I just love it

Back in action!  It was another solid week here in P-town.  Much to everyone’s delight, it rained just a hair less than constantly, which was nice.  Still did a lot of running in the mud and biking indoors though, both of which I love.  Plus, it’s been sunny when it counts: the weekends!  Last weekend we had a wonderful glimpse of spring, so I headed to the coast for an overnighter with friend, roommate and training partner Bmullane.  He’s one of those crazy ultrarunner types, so basically, he’s nuts.  He has a great blog too, and will probably describe his weekend in more detail here.  Did some adventuring and managed to squeeze in a great ride on the coastal roads.  This weekend is shaping up to be equally nice, with some trail running and a Belgian beerfest on tap.  Should be good!

Ok, so training updates aside, I know this is the post you’ve all been waiting for.  After reading about my race schedule, the burning question that has probably been keeping you all up at night: how are you ever going to get to all those races Andrew?

The answer, in most cases: my beautiful minivan Claire, a.k.a. the Silver Bullet!

Claire is a 2000 Chrysler Town & Country, which is pretty self-explanatory really.  It means she is equally at home in the town & the country.  I live in the town, but at any time I can drive out to the country without hesitation, so it’s basically a win-win.  And why is she called Claire?  First and foremost, that is just a great name for a car that looks and drives like a minivan, but has the personality of a fiery-breathing roadster.  Also, I bought Claire from my Uncle Bert when I was in college up at Gonzaga.  My cousin Lauren went to Santa Clara University – a rival school in our conference – so the car came with a big Santa Clara sticker on it, which I never really tried to get off and really pissed off all my friends.  After catching flack about it for probably the 100^th time, I finally cracked and just said, “You know what?  Time to embrace this!  I’m naming the car after the school!”  So the car was dubbed ‘St. Claire,’ or just Claire for short.  It’s beautiful.  Here she is at the campground last weekend.

I evaluate cars in basically the same format as everyone else in the world.  It comes down to three main criteria: functionality, price, and style.  I’ll start with…

1). Functionality: Does the car do what I want it to?

For me that means occasionally hauling around 10 dudes.  Fortunately Claire has me covered there.  Here she is in full people-mover mode.  Not bad.

What you can't see is the amble trunk space, easily enough room for an additional 3 tough dudes

But it also means carrying me and all my gear to triathlons, and when needed, doubling as a hotel room.  Claire’s got me covered there too.  Here she is in tri mode.  Gotta love it!

1. Oregon beer: never leave home without it
2. Sleeping bag and pad: nothing more important than a warm bed and a roof over your head
3. Bag and cooler: clothes, gear, and enough food for 40 men
4. Motor oil and funnel: Claire has a dirty habit, she burns a little oil, so I carry extra to keep her happy
5. Bryan's fair face: if you look closely you can see half of Bmullane's enchanting face
6. Command center: where all the big driving and playlist decisions are made
7. Atlas: old-fashioned, but always a good decision
8. Bike: fits inside nicely, with very little assembly/reassembly required
9. Helmet and shoes: dramatization - I don't sleep with those shoes that close to my head

Not shown: camp stove, wetsuit, whiskey

2). Price: For me, it’s less about the actual cost, and more about a ratio.  Specifically, the car value/bike value ratio.

This is as simple as it sounds: how much you paid for your car divided by how much you paid for your bike.  Countless scientific papers, original pieces of literature, chapters from economics and anthropology textbooks, sonnets, ballads and haikus have been written on this issue, the legendary “golden ratio of vehicular acumen.”  I’ll spare you all the research – the number to strive for is 0.85.  I define the following zones for your own cost analysis.  See where you fit in:

• 0-0.2      You probably don’t have a car.
• 0.2-0.4   If you do have a car, I’m assuming it’s at least 20 years old and in rough shape.  For safety reasons, you probably shouldn’t drive it.
• 0.4-0.6   If you are driving your car, keep a fire extinguisher in the passenger seat.
• 0.6-0.8   Personally, I really respect and applaud owners in this bracket, but your significant others night not be so impressed, or agree with your priorities.
• 0.8-1.0   Dual-car-and-bike-owner nirvana.  You have achieved balance.
• 1.0-1.2   Not bad, but you should consider putting some money into your bike to skew that ratio down a bit.  Fear not, there is no shortage of viable upgrades.
• 1.2-1.4   Your priorities are way, way out of line.
• 1.4-1.6   We should probably sit down over coffee and have a frank discussion about values and spending habits.  Come talk to me.
• 1.6-2.0   I hope your car costs at least 20 grand.  Which means you still have a killer bike.
• 2.0 +      You have my permission to buy a new bike.  Which means you should probably donate your old one to an aspiring young triathlete… if you catch my drift.

I’ll use my situation as an example.  Although it seems soulless to put a price tag on the perfect chord struck between utility, economy, and pure beauty, the blue book tells me Claire is worth about $2500.  I bought my bike three years ago for ~$3300.  Plus a few upgrades, minus a few years’ depreciation, I could probably get about $2300 for the Black Stallion now.  That puts my ratio at $2500/$2300 = 1.09, which is right in the wheelhouse.  And if I was to take my own advice, I just gave myself an excuse to buy some race wheels…

3). Style

I don’t think I need to write much here.  I mean, Claire is a beautiful silver minivan.  You should see her shining in the sun on a warm summer day, cruising down NW 23^rd here in Portland with the windows down.  People on the street stop what they’re doing, heads turn, mouths open, I hear cat-calls… as I roll up to soccer practice and a herd of shin-guard wearing 10-year olds jumps out.  Not a bad visual, right?  It’d look something like this:

So there you have it, a stout vessel indeed.  Looking forward to spending a considerable amount of time with Claire this summer as we traverse the ~6800 miles to all of my races.  And I love company, so if you're down for a roadtrip let me know.

That’s all for now.  Be well!

Andrew

Race Report - Spring Classic Duathlon!

Alright alright.  So last time I carried on about how I had a bunch of exciting posts I wanted to get up before my first race.  Well that didn't exactly happen...  I was hoping to get the minivan post up last week but my insanely busy, fast-paced and outrageously exotic lifestyle got in the way.  So I guess all of you crazy fans are going to have to wait a bit longer before finally catching a glimpse of my beautiful race-ready vehicle.

But for now, I have news!  My first race of the season is in the books and I wanted to get the race report up pronto!  At least pronto by my standards, which means 4 days later.  So here goes, my first attempt at a race report:

Last Saturday I raced a small local event, the Spring Classic Duathlon here in Portland.  And what a good time it was.  It had been awhile since my last race (Rev3 Portland last July!), so more than anything I was excited just to get back out and compete.  We were blessed with a beautiful morning, definitely not a given during an Oregon spring: blue skies, a slight chill in the air that the morning sun was slowly driving away, and a light breeze picking up off the nearby Columbia River.  As I rolled into the parking lot I was pleasantly surprised by all the legit looking competitors.  I heard the final count was just over 250 athletes, with seemingly a great variety of ages, backgrounds, and fitness levels.  That is certainly one of the reasons these local events are such a kick: they draw a great crowd ranging from focused competitors all the way to simple health seekers.  I would guess that about half the crowd looked way more legit than I did though, as I noticed a lot of great bikes and race wheels in transition.  I didn't much care though, I had my aero helmet!  Look out world!

My new helmet and old, old training wheels, giddy-up!

No real issues getting ready.  I cut it kind of close on timing, but nothing serious.  Got my bike set up in transition, practiced putting my new helmet on a few times, strung my elastic laces into my race shoes, and squeezed in a quick 5 minute warm-up jog to get the heart pumping a little bit.  I pulled up to the starting line just in time for the mass start.  They blew the gun and then we were off.

Now I signed up for this race as a spring tune-up event, but also just for a good hard workout on a closed course in race conditions.  I wanted to get a benchmark for my fitness, but also to drill the legs a little bit.  So I didn't exactly taper heading in.  Rather, I trained right through it, including a monster bike/run effort on the Thursday prior.  So my legs didn't exactly feel zippy, but they felt reasonably fresh, and it wasn't long before I settled into a nice rhythm in the front pack of 6 dudes.  About a half mile in one started to fade while another pulled up the road a little bit, gradually opening up about a 10 second gap.  I was content to run with the remaining three, at race pace but feeling long and comfortable.  It was awesome to run feeling relatively fresh at the beginning of a race, instead of slammed coming off a bike at the end of it.  That part would come I suppose.

We knocked out the first half of the opening run, hit the turn-around (you always have to yell and thank the volunteers...) and headed back to transition.  I came into T1 in my little group of 4 with about a 20 second gap to the lone front runner.  After a decent transition, I got my aero helmet and gloves on without any problems and was on to the 15 mile bike course, where it quickly became clear that my running comrades weren't as fast on wheels as they were on their feet.  Within 400 meters I was riding solo, and with the leader well within my sights.  It felt great to be in the mix, so I poured it on a little bit and saw myself creep up on him.

I caught my man just after the first turnaround, somewhere around mile 4.  We were riding into a steady headwind now, as the Pacific breeze channeled right up the Columbia River Gorge and into our faces.  I put in a small move to pass and (hopefully) drop him, but he tucked into my slipstream and hung tough.  Now this was not a draft legal race.  But being a smaller, local event, no one was out policing the race course and enforcing the rules.  I didn't ever turn around to look, but judging from the spectators who cheered as I went by, they were also cheering for someone who was right behind me.  The rule is that once passed, you must fall out the back of the passing rider's draft zone.  Judging from the spectators, he couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 meters behind me.  Sort of frustrating, but this was a just a fun local event, so what are you going to do?  I tried to surge again to get him out of my draft zone, thinking if I could get him exposed to the wind I could ride away from him.  I knew at threshold I was faster, because I'd slowly made up 20 seconds to catch him in the first few miles.  So I surged for a minute or so, hoping to put enough space between us that he would no longer have the benefit of my draft.  It didn't work at all.  My surge was exceptionally weak, as I could feel the heavy recent training load in my legs.  So I set a solid pace to keep him honest and enjoyed riding at the front.

About 10 miles in we were caught by a strong cyclist I didn't recognize.  He passed us both, and my clinger-on jumped into his slipstream and passed me too.  Trying to follow the rules, I eased off the power to let them get a little ways ahead of me, but then I was in a bit of a conundrum.  It was clear the two of them would be comfortable riding together for the rest of the bike leg.  I could either join in or put myself at a disadvantage as the only front-runner riding entirely by myself.  I decided to sort of take the middle ground, and settled in 5 or 6 bikelengths behind.  And I can tell you, it makes a considerable difference.  I couldn't be sure, but I'm thinking 20 watts or more.  We hit the second turn around and I could see there was no one else near us.  So I was content to stay where I was and cruise the tailwind back toward T2 in third position.

But then the mystery cyclist cramped somewhere around mile 12, so it was back to just me and my original partner for the last few miles.  He soft-pedalled until I passed him then tucked in behind me again, which wasn't awesome.  Whatever.  As mentioned, I had signed up for this race to get a workout as much as anything.  I decided to just ride reasonably hard to get a little fatigue in the legs before the final run, to try and get some extra fitness out of the session.  I pushed the last bit of the bike a little, but with a tail wind and him riding right in my draft, I didn't drop the hammer too hard, and we entered T2 together.

Which is where I made my only amateur mistake of the race (usually I make at least five, so this was a definite improvement).  My new helmet has a magnetic chin strap, which in the heat of the race I couldn't figure out how to get off.  I should have practiced a few more times I guess.  I was about to just say "to hell with it" and run the final leg with the helmet on, which would have been hilarious, but magically it clicked apart, so I put it down and sprinted out of transition.  I only lost 10 seconds or so on my competitor, so could have been worse.

The pacing strategy I was sticking to, more or less, was to run conservatively for the first 5K (check), hit the bike reasonably hard to tire the legs (check), then buckle up and hang on for the final 5K and see what the legs could do.  I set a quick tempo and it quickly became apparent I had more in the tank than my buddy.  I passed him within a quarter mile and didn't look back.  I ended up splitting about a minute faster than my first run, in the process putting about 80 seconds between myself and second place.  As I've mentioned, I was racing for the workout as well as the win, so I pushed it to the line and made it hurt.  It felt awesome, and I was all smiles when I hit the finishing chute.

Some take-aways from the day:

1). I'll state the obvious: it was fun to win!  More than that, it was a blast to be in the mix from the beginning of a race.  Since I am such a shocking swimmer, I usually come out of the water way, way out of the action and spend the entire bike and run legs trying to fight my way back into it.  With no damn swim to put me off the lead, I could enjoy being there from the beginning, and was able to gauge my competitors, make moves and surges and react.  Therefore it was more tactical than any race I'd done previously, which I really enjoyed.  Maybe I should just do dus.

2). My fitness is coming along nicely.  I was happy with the bike effort and amused that I had some speed in the legs for the run.  So... I got that going for me.

3). The aero lid actually made a noticeable difference.  I've ridden with my normal helmet for so long I could instantly feel the difference.  Instead of all that air rushing into and around my helmet, all I could feel was it sucking back in behind it, make this awesome "swooshing" feeling.  Booyah!

4). I should probably quit swimming and just do these.

Thanks to AA Sports for putting on a flawless, fun event, as well as all the event sponsors.  Most importantly, thanks to all the volunteers and family support crews for making these sorts of races possible for all of us competitors.  It was a great day.

And sorry no pictures.  This race was a bit of a solo effort for me, but I'm hoping to have an entourage of journalists, photographers, masseuses, domestiques, bike mechanics, chefs, and clowns out for the rest of my races.  So hopefully I can do better in this department in the future.

Next up is Wildflower in a little over three weeks... yikes.  Sort of sneaking up on me.

But that is still a ways away... maybe now you'll actually get to hear about my minivan.

Stay tuned!

Andrew