Race Report - 70.3 Florida

Hello hello hello!  Back from Florida, another great trip in the books, another great weekend of racing.  I’ll say it: I’m one lucky hombre.

If you don’t care about the Florida beach scene, snake forecasts or the Lance Armstrong hoopla, you can scroll down to the actual race report section.  Otherwise grab some popcorn and enjoy.  It was quite a weekend.

Pre-Race

Gettin' the bike built up...
mighty fine bike.

Contrary to Wildflower, the trip to the starting line was much smoother for this, my second pro outing (thank God).  I met my cousin Dan the Man at the airport in Orlando, as planned.  He had agreed to come down from Connecticut for the weekend to run race support and take in the scene.  And of course, while it hardly needs restating, Lance Armstrong was going to be in the race.  We’re both big fans, so we had high hopes for a great weekend.

The days before the race felt really luxurious when compared to a couple weeks ago.  First and foremost, we had a rental car.  Both of our respective cars are getting on in years, so we both appreciated the peace of mind that comes from cruising around in a new, sporty, pleasant-smelling, reliable Nissan Sentra.  Nothing against my minivan Claire (although she is on my short list after the stunt she pulled down in CA), but as the saying goes, nothing parties like a rental.

Second, it was really nice to get to the area a couple days ahead of time.  I had an entire day to build my bike back up from the travel crate, test ride it and work out all of the kinks.  I was able to eat well, get plenty of sleep the second and third nights out (the night before the race hardly matters anyway), and it was all really low-key.  We stayed with some friends in Tarpon Springs, who showed us an excellent time in an area of the country we’d never been to.  Turns out there is a lot to do down there, and I hope to go back someday when I don’t have to keep my body in working order.

Cruising Clearwater Beach, beating all of the babes away with clubs, 8:30 pm, nearly bedtime

Saturday we drove to the race site in time to check in, rack my bike in transition and catch the pro athlete panel, which is when the Lance fanfare began.  I do not envy his lifestyle.  He couldn’t find any time away from the spotlight, with people constantly reaching out to him for pictures and autographs and handshakes.  He handled it all with grace and charm, but I got to think it’d be exhausting.  But then again, the guy is an endurance animal, so what am I even saying?

Left to right: Lance Armstrong, Michael Poole, David Kahn, Nina Kraft, Jessica Jacobs, Amanda Stevens, Mandy McLane

Side note: more than Lance’s words, which are always articulate, I was particularly encouraged to find out that two of the other athletes on the pro panel (David Kahn and Amanda Stevens) are both docs.  Apparently there can be life (and triathlon, more specifically) after med school.  That has been a bit of a concern for me lately.

After the panel was the pro athlete race briefing in a nearby multi-purpose room, which was nice to actually attend this time (I missed the one at Wildflower because I was screwing around at Dayton Auto Repair about 150 miles away).  I was prepared to tell everyone that Dan was my coach just to make sure he’d get in, but nobody asked us any questions.  26 male and 18 female athletes ended up making it, and Lance sat right behind us, which was pretty cool.  We heard all about the swim (very oddly shaped), bike (not a push-over, as everyone had expected) and run courses.  They opened it up for questions, and I very nearly put my hand up.  You see, going into this event my buddies had been doing their best to psyche me out with all their talk about snakes and gators.  I hate snakes, scared to death of them.  Their efforts actually worked pretty well, and I was pretty well psyched-out.  I was going to ask if there was any real concern about being mauled or poisoned, but no one else seemed even remotely bothered, so I figured it wasn’t a problem.

I will confess that after the meeting I had hoped to shake Lance’s hand.  I even had a line prepared, something like “Glad to have you here, Lance.”  Classic.  Safe.  But as soon as business was adjourned the fanfare continued, with a bunch of other athletes, race officials, and coaches competing for his attention.  So we slid out the door with about half the crowd, content and oddly proud to be among those who just treat him like a normal human being.  It certainly is what I would want if I were in his shoes.

That night we made the mistake of going into Downtown Disney looking for ice cream.  I think we set a record though, for least time and money spent in that absurd goat parade (about 20 minutes and zero dollars).  Got a few hours sleep at the Comfort Inn and then it was race day.

Race Report

I woke up at 4:00am local time, which was 1:00 in the morning back in Portland, but felt surprisingly good as I ate a couple PB&Js and bananas.  Got things set up in transition, which felt like being in a fish bowl.  Literally hundreds of people were surrounding the pro transition area, all pointing cameras and cell phones to try and catch a glimpse of Lance.  We all went about our business.  I didn’t see any snakes in the lake even though it was 84 degrees (perfect snake mating temperature I hear), so I jumped in a few minutes prior to 6:30 and got the blood pumping a bit.  Star-Spangled Banner, everyone lined up, and then the cannon went off.  In the opening scramble for position I ended up bumping into Lance’s feet a bunch, but that was the last I saw of him until much later in the morning.

The sun came up just minutes before the race start.
The men's field is out in the water warming up, near the end of the dock.

The swim was an improvement for me, even if the time doesn’t show it.  Because this was the first time I’ve ever been able to swim with a pack.  As the opening melee settled out, a lead swimmer emerged with a chase pack close behind, then a few in-betweeners, then a second pack with me, and finally a few stragglers.  The pace felt really easy in my group.  So easy that once or twice I even tried to make a go of it, but I found myself working considerably harder and not putting much distance into the bunch.  In the end I decided to stay put, and cruised for the majority of the swim.  The leader exited the water in about 23.5 minutes, with the first chase group (including Lance) about 1.5 minutes back.  My group hit the beach another 3 minutes later, in just over 28 min.  So not too bad for a non-wetsuit swim and a course that was shaped like a pair of pants (six 90-degree turns doesn’t really make for fast swimming).  I felt comfortable coming out of the water, not gassed, and it was nice to run into transition with some company.




Lance out of the water in great position.

Photo by Elizabeth Kreutz




I exit the water, also in great position, but that's all relative.  Great position for me.
Apparently I'm also crying, like a delicate little pansy of a man.



...and onto the bike.  I just passed that other guy behind me in T1.
The only advantage to not having a skin suit I guess.



I had a decent turn around, making up a couple positions in transition and hitting the bike course without delay.  I felt it was an honest bike circuit, with something like 1,600 feet of climbing, pretty tame (especially after Wildflower… 5,300+ ft of climbing!) but hardly flat.  I passed a couple more dudes in the first two miles as I cranked out into the heart of Polk County.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I was out of the water in 15^th so at that point I was riding in 11^th, solid!  But then I was passed by a big Austrian man pushing a huge gear around mile 5.  So he basically became the carrot I was chasing for the entire ride, which was excellent.  Turns out it is really helpful to have a guy who is slightly faster than you riding just down the road.  He kept me honest and didn’t let my mind wander.  I stayed focused and didn’t drift of the pace.  I had a good music thing going this time too, not the same two lines of Kanye on loop in my head, but an actual song I knew the words to, Baba O’Riley by the Who.  I even yelled “Out here in the fields!” a couple times when I was really in the middle of nowhere.  And then somewhere around mile 20 Behind Blue Eyes popped in.  I was groovin’, no loose water bottles, no rubbing brake pads.  Conditions were perfect.

The first half was nice and open with a helpful wind, so I covered miles 0-28 in 1:05 or so.  I was stoked when I saw my watch, and figured if I could hold on I’d ride around a 2:10, which for me is really crushing.  Well the second half of the course didn’t let that happen.  Things started rolling up and down and eventually pointed us back into the wind, so I covered the second 28 miles in closer to 1:10.  I still finished up in a hair over 2:15, my best ever, and with the 10^th fastest bike I was right in the mix, with most pros riding 2:12-2:25.

First bike pic of me to make it onto my blog.  In Maura's defense, it is very hard to photograph
someone who is moving so fast.  Although Dan was able to do it.

Well, except for one, that is.  Lance was in a world apart.  He stormed the bike so quickly they had to rush the last few swim waves to make sure the roads would be clear in time for his return to transition.  It was pretty insane to witness.  Now I know what Jan Ulrich and so many others felt like, when they were in great form but Lance just couldn’t be contained.  He ended up riding 2:01 or something stupid, nearly 11 minutes faster than anybody else.  Strava tells me he averaged 399 watts for two hours, which is such an enormous figure it makes me want to leap to me feet and clap/laugh/cry all at once.  By his own admission, he was really feeling it.

What you can't see is the 400 watts.  How do you compete with this?
Photo by Elizabeth Kreutz

I ended up reeling in two more dudes toward the end of the bike, so I made it to T2 in 10^th position.  The Austrian I’d been chasing ended up riding about a minute faster than me, so I jumped out of T2 and hoped he wasn’t much of a runner.  I got him in my sights and started to work away at him. 

The run course was on par with the bike route, I thought, in terms of fairness.  It was a 3-lap circuit around the lake, with a lap being roughly 4 1/3 miles long, which set itself up nicely for the spectators.  And there were two rolling hills back-to-back right out of transition.  I hoped to hold 5:50-6:00 min pace, which would have meant ~25:15-26:00 per lap.  Running is what I’d consider my strongest leg, so it seemed pretty manageable.



More or less the vision I had when we
passed each other.



Then about halfway up the first hill I saw the Austrian slow to a walk.  Just as I caught him at the top of the hill he pulled off the road into the bushes and yakked.  (He finished the day but I’m sure the run was an unpleasant affair for him.)  I felt ok and pushed the downhill segments.  Then a little later I saw Lance for the first time since the swim start.  The course did a little lollipop for the fourth mile before heading back through transition to start the second lap.  I came out of the lollipop on my first lap just as he was entering it on his second, meaning he was a full 3 miles ahead of me on the road.  And he was moving well.  We ran past each other in opposite directions, almost brushing shoulders.  It was pretty cool to see him in action.  I could tell he had a huge gap.

I came back through transition at the end of lap one in 25:45, not bad.  But then the pace started dropping off.  The hills took it out of me on the second go-round, thank God Dan had positioned himself midway up the first one.  His words of encouragement were quite welcome.  I came out of the lollipop for the second time and passed Lance about 100 yards sooner than I had on the previous lap – which meant he was running faster than I was.  I applauded him for staying on it, even though he must have known he had an untouchable lead with only a mile and a half to the finish.  I ended up splitting a minute slower, 26:50, on my second lap.

That’s when the pain really set in.  Up the two hills for the final time, I told Dan I’d see him at the finish, and did my best to hang on.  Ended up splitting a minute slower still, 27:45 for my final time around the track.  Good enough for a 1:20:20 half marathon, not bad, but still disappointing.  7^th best run of the day, but I know there is more speed there.  I crossed the line and staggered up to 7^th place finisher Chris Bagg, another Portland-based pro.  He told me I’d come 8^th, which I was surprised and happy to hear.  Until this time I had no idea where I was in the standings.  4:07:55 for this effort, which I am quite pleased with.

Up that damn hill, for the third time.  Bunch of age groupers had also made it to the run course by this point.

Post-Race

Post race was one of the best parts of the whole trip.  With some time to kill, and on a hot tip from our friends, we were able to sneak into Disney and spent the afternoon lounging in the awesome pools of the Polynesian Resort.  Hit up the Orlando Brewing Company for a couple beers, dropped Dan off at the airport, then beat it back to Tarpon Springs, where I ate like a king and slept for 10 hours.  Turns out you can pack a lot into a day if you start it at 4:00am.

Take Aways

I always like to start with the obvious: I’m thrilled with 8^th place overall, BOOYAH!  A fine showing, and more importantly, some serious improvement from my last outing down in California.  Still a few stupid mistakes, but nowhere near the celebration of incompetency that was my effort at Wildflower.

SWIM: It was great to swim with a pack, and now that I know it’s doable for me, I need to make it happen every race.  And also continue to work on my water-awareness and sighting.

BIKE: I am quite content with the bike.  More and more I think my position could be improved, and that it’d be nice to race with power.  But those aren’t really things I can remedy at this point.  What can I actually do?  I suppose some longer training efforts would be good, so I don’t fall off the pace in the last 10 miles.  And time to start up my weekly bike interval workouts.  I love those, and they really work.

RUN: The biggest place for improvement remains with the run.  I’m coming up short there, and I don’t like it.  The most obvious answer is more specific training, i.e. some speedwork and longer efforts off the bike.  I’ve got a solid base at this point and am happy to be injury free, so time to ramp up the intensity.  Also a factor would have been the Florida heat.  When I crossed the line around 10:38am it was nearly 90-degrees and 55% humidity, which is tough.  In those kinds of conditions an even split is really like a negative split… I guess.  But I’m starting to think nutrition might be a culprit as well.  In both races I haven’t bonked, but I’ve lacked the zip I like to have when I finally get off the bike and settle into my favorite part of the race.  So some more experimenting with nutrition, some more training, and we’ll see what happens.

Lastly, this race was only two weeks after my last one, and I could actually feel the added fitness.  I seem to have absorbed Wildflower well, and I am pleased with this new-found power and durability.  I hope to keep it building through the next three weeks.  Next up: Boise 70.3 on June 9^th.  Home turf, gotta love it!

Not a bad scene at the Polynesian, compliments of Walt.

Thank Yous

First big thank you goes to cousin, travel partner, and brother-in-arms Dan the Man Tavelli.  Dan met me at the airport, took care of the rental car, drove me all around Florida, warded off all the snakes, always stopped when I needed a restroom, ate meals with me, laughed with me, snuck into Disney with me, ran race support, took a bunch of great photos, bought me dinner, and put up with my entire pre-race, raceday, and post-race routines, not to mention my occasionally off-color sense of humor.  I didn’t do anything for him.  Our relationship was pretty one-sided for the weekend.  Dan, truly, I can’t thank you enough for sharing this experience with me.  Was one I will never forget.

Peg and Barbara, who housed us and fed us in Tarpon Springs for an appreciable length of time.  They also shared with us the ins and out of the local economy, most notably the Magical World of Disney, where we more than got our money’s worth.  I know the pleasure of our company didn’t in any way measure up to your exceeding acts of generosity.  Couldn’t have done the trip without your help, so thank you both so much.  Looking forward to coming back soon.

I don’t have any sponsors, but this is where your names would be prominently featured.  If you’re interested in getting in on this action don’t hesitate to drop me a line.

Might as well thank all of my future sponsors, so you know I’m being serious.

Most importantly, all the volunteers who put on this event in the fine locale of Haines City.  Yours is a wonderful little community, and I enjoyed my time in Polk County immensely.  And last but not least, my twitter and blog followers, whose interest and support keep me in the race.  I don’t do this for myself, you know, I do it for all of you.

Of course I’m kidding.  I totally do it for myself.  But I’m glad some of you are interested in following along.  Thanks for everything!

Cheers,

Andrew

Race Report - Wildflower Long Course

Ok, picking up where I left off the other day…  Here at last is my Wildflower race report.  I figure I have at least a week after the event to get these up, so I don't want to hear any complaints.  I might be including a bit too much detail, but unlike a med school application, there is no word limit to a blog entry!  Haha!  So I can be as verbose as I want and you suckers just have to deal with it!

What I mean is, I hope you will deal with it.  I’m not trying to scare away my readership.



The Play-by-Play



I'm that one.



The gun went off and I scampered into the water like a little chipmunk who is afraid of getting wet.  Hardly the authoritative starting point I needed, but as I’ve mentioned time and time again, swimming isn’t exactly my strong point, and the pro field is notoriously rough in the opening minutes.  So rather than position myself at the front of the bunch and have people claw and pound their way over the top of me for the first 200 meters, I opted to hang at the back upon entry.  Don’t know if that was the best idea or not.  I may try the alternative next time and see if that helps me find a swim pack.  This time I definitely did not.  I’m a third pack swimmer on a good day, so I gunned it for the first few minutes and looked around for a small group to form.  That never ended up happening, at least as far as I could tell with my mediocre open-water swim sighting.  So I ended up swimming alone for pretty much the whole thing.  I did find this one guy for about 100 meters, but he was zig-zagging all over the place, giving me a headache.

Can't see much here, but this is the turn-around midway through the swim course.

At this point I should probably reiterate the theme for the weekend: that this was a rookie pro debut in every sense imaginable.  In fact, the first hour of the race was basically amateur hour:

Amateur Moment #1: On the home stretch of the swim, I could see a girl in a canoe slowly creeping in front of me.  At first I was irritated.  What does a guy got to do to get a straight swim course?  Didn’t she know I was one of the ridiculously fast pro males?  Then I saw her pointing, and realized I was veering pretty dramatically off course – my mediocre swim sighting continues.  Turns out homegirl was trying to save me from swimming to shore about 600 meters too soon.

I exited the water and glanced at my watch.  27 minutes flat!  Not fast, by pro standards, but my fastest swim ever by about a minute and a half, and not totally out of the race!  Time in the pool this fall and winter is paying off.  I had no idea where I was in the field, but I was pumped.  Unfortunately, then amateur hour continued...

The best picture from the race, running up the ramp into T1, thanks Mowra!

Amateur Moment #2: I had to actually sit down on my ass and peel my wetsuit off around my ankles, like a little girl struggling to take off her rain boots.  So I lost about 25 seconds in T1.  Easy fix though, time to snip my wetsuit at mid-shin.

Mounted my black stallion, stormed out onto the bike course, wheels seemed to be holding, nice, but then…

Amateur Moment #3: Somehow the velcro strap holding my aero drink bottle between my forearms came loose.  The bottle was bouncing all over the place for the first mile or so, until I actually stopped and re-threaded the fricking thing.  Wasn’t going to hassle with that for another 55 miles.  Lost about 30 seconds and got passed by two dudes.

Back on the bike, things seemed secure, started to hammer to regain my position, then things started going up on me.  And I mean up.  The first hill was probably the steepest of the day…

The first hill up from the reservoir. Ouch.

Amateur Moment #4: My legs could not turn the pedals with any kind of speed.  I felt like I was dragging my bike all the way up that first hill.  Then I got to the top and looked down.  Turns out, I actually was dragging my bike!  My rear brake pad had been rubbing on my disc the entire way up.  No wonder!  Stopped again and adjusted my brake, lost another 40-45 seconds (not including the extra time to get up the stinking hill), passed by two more dudes.

Finally things were clicking.  I settled into a rhythm and did my best to chip away at the positions I’d given up.  I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I had Kanye West’s “Power” on a loop in my head.  But really only two lines of it.

“At the end of the day I know I’m killing this $hi%,

And I know damn well y’all feeling this $hi%!”

Knock Mr. West all you want, but there is no denying that the guy is a talented lyricist.  Would have been nice to get the rest of that song going, but I don’t know much else to it.  The mind is a funny thing during a race.  When it’s deprived of oxygen you never know what wacky stuff is going to surface.

There was a tough headwind for a few miles, sharp right turn around mile 20 and it became a quartering tail.  Add to that a slight 1-2% downgrade for a few miles and I had…

Pro Moment #1: I was crushing down that slight grade and began to hear a “wrr wrr wrr wrr” sound.  I thought it was a helicopter or race referee on a motorcycle at first, but then I realized it was my own disc wheel.  BOOYAH!  That is the sound they make when they are really spinning.  If you haven’t heard it, take my word for it, it’s awesome.  My wheels didn’t give me any more grief the rest of the bike leg, so all things considered, I came away pretty lucky having never ridden them before.

I wish I could say the amateur moments stopped there, but unfortunately there were a few more.

Amateur Moment #5: On a particularly long and bumpy downhill section, I heard a “plop” sound behind me and turned my head to see my bottle of electrolytes spiraling off the pavement and into the grass.  Ejected by my saddle-mounted bottle holder, I knew it!  I yelled “shucks” or something to that extent.  No biggie, was able to grab bottles as needed for the rest of the ride.

I came into the bottom of the nasty grade, right around mile 40, feeling pretty good but definitely fatigued.  I convinced myself that I ride up far worse hills all the time in Portland and went to work.  It hurt, but I passed a couple guys and as I hit the crest…

Pro Moment #2: I got fired up and with a huge grin I started hollering and yelled “What hill!?”  The fans and spectators at the top loved that, they really got into it and their cheers pushed me up and over the final 100 meters.

It is nasty.  Just nasty.

Fortunately I saved something for the last 10 miles, because the climbing doesn’t stop at the top of nasty grade, as you can see above.  I was able to reel in a couple guys on the remaining hills and hit T2 feeling pretty good.

Having never ridden that tough bike course, I goaled myself a 2:30 on the bike and ended up riding 2:33:38.  Subtract my amateur moments and inject a little course familiarity and I know I can ride it much faster next time.  But still I thought my overall goal of 4:20 was within reach as I exited transition with my total time at 3:03 and counting.  I knew it was a tough run course, but I felt confident I’d be able to hold 6 min pace and lay down a sub 1:20 effort.  I eased into the first mile, took a gu and split myself right at 6:00.  Solid.  Thinking about the next 12 miles, I set myself up mentally for 2 x 6 miles and the goal of an even split, 36 minutes per side.  Seemed doable.

I was wrong.

Around mile 3, beautiful if you can actually focus on it.



The first half of the run course, while stunning to look at, is an absolute bear.  By mile 3 I had fallen off the pace, and that’s when things really get steep.  Miles 4-6 basically made me want to take my own life.  I started asking myself I became a professional triathlete.  Why not a professional surfer?  Or maybe beach volleyball?  At the steepest part I actually made the conscious decision to walk, so that was rough.  (Later I felt better about it, because turns out many of the pros walk that section, including overall winner Jesse Thomas.)



Who came up with this nonsense?



The second half of the run started to feel better and the legs started to turn over a little easier.  Then I hit the campground section, miles 7-9, and my entire race was redeemed.  This is without a doubt the best 2-mile section of any run course I have ever raced.  The Wildflower campground is like the Garden of Eden.  You hit it feeling like complete garbage, but you are instantly transformed by the throngs of cheering campers and supporters.  You run past tents and aide stations, people are yelling their heads off, you just have to raise your eyes to the skies and thank God for the power of people.  I felt like I flew through that section.  I was cracking jokes, high-fiving kids, thanking people for the support.  Sunday at Wildflower is a big collegiate event, so there were college kids everywhere, including the infamous Cal Poly campground.  I was taking hits from squirt guns, pounding water over my head, jokingly asking the kids for whiskey.  Truth is I felt great, and was just thrilled to be in that moment.  I clicked off a couple 5:30 miles and didn’t look back.

Just entering the campground.  Oh my god oh my god oh my god!

Miles 10-12 are brutal again, but that close to the finish line you just have to give it everything.  The final mile drops you right down Lynch Hill to the reservoir and the finishing chute, which will be your fastest mile of the day if you can avoid a faceplant.  I hit the line with a smile and relief washed over me as I embraced Maura and offered my congratulations to the race winner.  Ended up running 1:23:41, which is the only part of the race I can actually say I’m disappointed with.  Need more run training.  But overall time for my first crack at this challenging course was 4:28:17, good enough for top 25, so I’m pretty OK with it.

Cooked, but happy.

Take Aways

A lot went very well on raceday, but definitely a lot of things to take away and learn from.  Which is what you hope for at your first race of the season, especially if it also happens to be your first pro race ever on one of the most challenging courses in the business and against one of the toughest fields the sport sees all year long.

My run training is where I’m coming up short at the moment.  No surprise there as I’ve pretty much just been doing base mileage type stuff for the past 4 months.  I will make some changes in the coming months and incorporate some speedwork to hopefully get a good run put together in time for my last couple outings this season.  Also some tweaks I can make to my nutrition plan, but nothing too major.  At this race specifically, I think I will do much better in the future because knowing the course is hugely important here.

Another image from the wonderful-but-still-sucky run course.

But enough of all those little details.  I know that’s not why you hordes of devoted fans are reading my blog.  That stuff is for me to ponder and keep to myself, not bore you all to death with.  I think the biggest take away is that WILDFLOWER IS THE BOMB!!!  What a fricking fantastic event.  It’s hard for me to convey in words what it feels like to be a participant.  The 30 year history, the brutally honest race course, the tough competition, the hilarious/fun/communal/supportive/collegiate atmosphere and vibe… it just doesn’t get any better.  I truly cannot wait to do it again next year.  I wish it was next May already.

Also a big take-away for me, and one which gives me great satisfaction, is the way the legs recovered in the days afterward.  Yes, Sunday was a struggle, but I biked to work on Monday and by Thursday was even ready for a cruisy little evening run.  I know there is some fatigue deep down in there, but hopefully that will be gone in another week, just in time for my next race… in Florida!  How 'bout them apples!?

Thank Yous

I’m sorry this is so long.  But you know that you can stop reading at any time, right?  I mean, I’m not twisting your arm here.  I need to end with a few thank yous.

The biggest one goes out to Dixie, Kendra, and all the fine folks at Tri-California, who made me feel like a rock star all weekend.  They put on a fantastic event.  But more than that, as a first-time pro, I was so appreciative of the way they treated the elites that were there to race.  Dozens of emails answering all my questions, a reserved camping space so I didn’t have to fight the crowds, wonderful meals for breakfast lunch and dinner, I could go on and on.  They truly run a classy operation and I couldn’t be more thankful for all of their hard work.  I hope to return for years to come.

Second big thank you goes out to my lovely girlfriend, Miss Maura Lynch, who was with me from start to finish on this one.  I think there are probably very few people in the world who would be willing to put up with me on such an intense adventure for 4 straight days.  Not to mention that 30+ hours of that were in a very confined space (my car).  I really appreciated all of your help and support.  I owe you more than just a few lattes.

I call this one the "sneaking wombat"

Quick shout out to the Best Bike Zone in Paso Robles for your help with my rear disc fiasco.  You guys have a good thing going on there.

And last but not least, everyone who participated in this event, especially all of the volunteers who trekked out to the Middle-of-Nowhere, CA to make it all possible.  Crazy college kids can have fun no matter what they are doing (I remember), but thanks for spending your weekend at the reservoir and carrying me through the end of the run course.  And all of you blog readers and twitter followers, I had you in the back of my head the whole time, which believe it or not is hugely motivating.  Whenever I started to feel like a pansy I thought “Oh man I’m  going to have to answer for this, the people won't be happy.”  Which always helped me find another gear.  You help me more than you know!

Good grief, this is long enough.  Going to take a break now.  Florida in a little over a week.  Looks like a great race and another solid field, including Lance Armstrong.  So stay tuned!

I love your comments and any feedback, so please keep it coming.  Thanks for reading!

Andrew

Wildflower - the Journey Begins

What a weekend, certainly one I will never forget.  I'm back in Portland now, a few days after participating in the 30th anniversary of the Wildflower Long Course Triathlon.  And what a memorable experience it was.  Hopefully these two blog posts will recount in stunning splendor all of the highlights from that 86-hour, 1900-mile trip.  Yes, you read that right.  You lucky dogs will get not one but TWO blog posts from this past weekend, because I feel the journey to the starting line was every bit as entertaining as the race to the finish line.  So here is part I – everything that happened prior to the gun actually going off.  Look for the race report in another day or two.

Now I’m not going to beat around the bush.  I’ll hit you with some truth right up front here.  I may even go as far as to label this the theme for the weekend:

THIS WAS A ROOKIE PRO DEBUT IN EVERY SENSE IMAGINABLE.

At least a dozen times before I even arrived at the race course – and probably about 47 times on race day – I was made painfully aware that I am still quite new to all this.  Because virtually nothing went to plan.  All I could do was try to keep a positive, objective, and amused attitude towards everything, a sort of laissez-faire approach for all you economic types in the audience.

Where to even begin?  When I last posted, I shared one of my biggest pre-race concerns: that I had never ridden on my new race wheels before, or any race wheels for that matter.  Turns out those concerns were well-founded.  When I went to try them out on Wednesday night – my last night in town before heading south – I realized I was missing a pretty critical piece (the casette body for you inquiring minds).  A frantic rush to a local bike shop revealed that I had no ability to fix the situation, and that the part I needed was in the hands of the infamous Sean Moran, unofficial bike mechanic to Monte Still (the wheels’ previous owner) and good friend of mine.  Sean lives in Salt Lake City.  It didn’t look good.

So I got Sean on the horn and said “Sean, you’ve really put me in it! (he had)  We got a problem! (I did, he would have been just fine)”  Now I’m not usually one to pass the buck.  In fact, I usually seek the buck out.  I love the buck.  But in this case, it was all Sean’s fault, and you can tell him I said that (just kidding Sean, well sort of, but not really).  Anyway, Sean agreed to overnight the part I needed to a bike shop in Paso Robles, CA (which is lovely), not exactly on the way to – but at least in the vicinity of – the race course at Lake San Antonio.  And I wished on a little fairy that it would get there on time, I would swing through and pick it up on Friday without any huge delays, install it on the fly with no problems, throw it on my bike on race morning and literally ride it out of transition during the race having never even put my weight on it, let alone test ridden it.  Perfect, elegant, simple.  Problem solved.

I brought my training wheels just in case.

So everything is great.  Thursday morning, cooked a big breakfast, my lovely girlfriend Maura and I loaded up the car (she agreed to accompany me on this little trip, knowing full well it would mean about 30 hours of car time with just me, basically making her a saint in my book), we bought a couple lattes and off we went.  It rained until we left the state of Oregon, at which point it cleared up promptly and without hesitation.  Drove by Mt. Shasta (marvelous), took a little detour to check out the Golden Gate Bridge (awesome), got turned around in west San Francisco, and eventually made it to my buddy’s pad in Sunnyvale, where we cooked a mean meal and crashed for the night.

awesome

marvelous

Friday morning, day before raceday, and I had a precise timeline, outlined down to the minute.  It all depended on a prompt 9:00 am departure.  We were back in the car at 9:03 (pretty damn good), I put the key in the ignition, turned her over… and Claire decided she wanted to take the day off.  Not two weeks after I had given her her 15 minutes of fame on my blog, and my race-ready vehicle shat the bed.  And not in the good way.

When Claire didn’t fire up, I took a few deep breaths and assumed the worst.  Tow her to a mechanic, diagnose the problem, order the parts, wait for the labor, which I assumed would mean Monday at the earliest.  Rent a car?  Too expensive.  I accepted that we would be stuck in Sunnyvale for the weekend.  We’d make the most of it.  Maura and I would hang out at Tom’s place, maybe catch a shuttle into Frisco on Saturday and Sunday, see the city, hang out.  Then we’d drive home when Claire felt like it.  Wildflower just wasn’t going to happen.  Nothing short of an act of God would get me to the race course.  I find that once you embrace the worst you can begin to act rationally, and when anything goes your way afterwards you are hugely grateful, even amused.

Not where you want to be on your way to a race.

Which is how I felt when we were back on the road later that day.  That act of God actually transpired, in the form of Brenton from AAA, Jon from Dayton Auto, a couple of smart phones and a nice coffee break.  Fortunately, I’m a AAA premier member (thanks Mom!)  They had their man Brenton on the scene in less than an hour, who was pretty much a champion.  He climbed down from the tow-truck with his big pony tail and made me an instant fan when he confessed that he owned the “red-headed step child” (his words) to the Chrysler Town & Country: the Dodge Grand Caravan.  I’ve long maintained this to be true, nice to have my conviction affirmed by an expert.  It took him about 1 minute to declare, “Well you’re not getting shit from your fuel pump!” (again, his words)  That, of course, had been my diagnosis as well.  So he climbed under Claire’s underbelly, smacked the fuel tank with a big hammer-crowbar-beating stick and we got her started up.  Incidentally, that’s a pretty great trick for future reference.  Drove straight to a mechanic we’d called who had the part in stock and said he could have us back on the road in a couple hours.  So we walked to Starbucks, which Maura appropriately described as a place where white people go to waste time.  A few hours later we were cruising south!

Wasting time in Sunnyvale.  I'm a bit disgruntled.  But could have been worse.
At least we had that great banana.

Made it to the bike shop in Paso Robles (which is lovely), picked up the piece to my wheel, drove to the race course, wheeled into our reserved camping space (compliments of Tri-California, more on them later), and rushed down the hill to dinner (again, compliments of Tri-Cal).  We even had time to scout the “nasty grade” (infamous 900 foot climb on the bike course) on the way in.  It didn’t look fun.

After dinner we set up camp and I managed to get my wheel put together.  I also did my best to shave my legs with a dry razor and a small pan of water.  Had been hoping to get that done earlier in the afternoon, preferably in the shower, but what can you do?  Sometimes cars break down.  Full confession: I didn’t even finish the job.  Since my legs were so dry, the razor was basically ruined by the time I finished my shins and thighs.  Pretty sure I was the only elite racing with hairy knees.  I went to bed feeling not quite ready but so grateful to be where I was, considering earlier that morning I had accepted spending the weekend in a suburb of the bay area.

Down and dirty.

The actual morning of the race went pretty well, although waking up at 5:15 am is never easy.  Managed to get some food down, set up all of my race nutrition, loaded up our bags and Maura and I set off down the hill by 6:30.  I should have eaten more but a stinking blue bird made off with the piece of bread I had prepared with peanut butter and a banana for the walk down.  The risks of camping I guess.  Come prepared (at this point I’m ready to admit I wasn’t the most prepared).  Down the hill, set up all my gear in transition, glad-handed some other pros (very fun for me, my first time in that elite crowd!), couple trips to the port-o-john, suited up and was in the water by 7:50.  A few warm up strokes, we all lined up, I asked the guy next to me where exactly the freaking swim course even went (he must have thought I was playing mind games with him, I wasn’t, I actually didn’t know).  10 seconds to go until 8:00, the crowd counted down, so awesome, I was pumped, the gun went off and I dove in!  My first pro race!  Here we go!

Last minute preparations. I really wore the hell out of that rose-colored garment.
Thanks again Lauren!

Did I mention this was a rookie pro debut in every sense imaginable?

Hope I didn’t bore you all with extraneous details of the trip.  Just wanted to illustrate that the lifestyle of a rookie pro isn’t as glamorous as you probably all imagined.  No first class flights and luggage handlers for this guy.  Unless you count my girlfriend.  She could probably be a Sherpa in another life.  Actual race report is in the works!  It'll be much better than this.

Smiling blindly like an idiot who has never raced this course before.
No idea what's about to happen.
What a fool.