But I digress. This year's event was hosted on a nice cool June morning. We could not have ordered better weather: mid-50s, warming to 60 during the race, with sun and a cool, light breeze. Hard to complain. In fact, a little too nice so as to ruin any/all of my excuses when my race inevitably fell short of expectations.
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| Natalie at the finish |
I've been fairly shy about my training this year, markedly talking down any expectations for myself. We did, after all, have a baby on March 2, and that does kind of create a new (happy) wrinkle for training. This has also been a difficult spring at work for a couple of reasons, and so the stress has been fairly high, and the weather this spring was pretty terrible for getting outside. In fact, we didn't really have a spring--just miserable weather and then, boom, summer. However, with all of that said, I have something to say to the people who smiled knowingly at me when I said I was going to stay in good shape even after the baby arrived--all the people who said "You'll see" and gave me that knowing wink, suggesting I had no idea what I was getting into. All those people? They were wrong. In fact, now, a little over three months after Natalie was born, I am in the best shape of my life.
So... nanner-nanner.
This happened for a few reasons. Firstly, I really was pretty darn dedicated in the months prior to Natalie's birth. After an October of running I did Insanity again in November and December, mixing in basketball twice a week. Then, in January I hit the bike trainer full force. I bought two videos from Sufferfest--one an hour long and the other two hours long, and I did them not once or twice, but so many times that I now have the videos and music down to heart, and I kept playing basketball all the while. When the spring eventually came, I started running and biking outside (even in terrible weather) and then we had our Hunger Ride, which meant a week of long days on the bike (whether I wanted to be riding or not).
So, that was a lot of unnecessary background, but I wanted to share a bit about how accomplished I felt even before taking the starting line.
The race
The numbers were down in the Crookston not-so-triathlon's second year. In part this may have had something to do with the pool, but when we lined up there were only nine of us. That's fine with me: I like small races and big races for different reasons. Thankfully, I knew I had something to chase because Brian, the guy who beat me last year (albeit in confusing fashion), was back. I also knew he was quite a bit faster than me. I did my research, and in every event he entered he put up faster times than I could really hope to achieve.
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| There I am middle right; Brian is left of me. |
This year's Crookston Duathlon was a 5k run, followed by a 14 mile bike ride, and then another 5k run. The run and bike courses were both out and back, though on somewhat different roads, and the bike course was two laps while the run was one.
Leg 1: 5k run
It's always nerve-wracking on the start for a race. I always feel like I'm going to set the wrong pace--going too fast or too slow. And in this case I didn't even know what the right pace was. Thinking about it before-hand, and talking out-loud with my loving wife who has to think I'm crazy, I set a goal first 5k of 22:00. I knew I could run 21:00 but I felt like I'd be dead for the next two legs, and I thought 23:00 would be leaving too much in the tank, so I settled on what I thought would be a good middle ground.
At first, this strategy was working. The first half mile was in something like 3:30--a perfect 7-minute mile pace, but it was right about then that my adversary, Brian, kicked into another gear. Now, let me remind you that I was approximately 1/6th of the way done with the first of three legs, so basically 1/18th of the way done with the race, but that didn't matter. He was getting away and so I was switching to "I'm not letting this guy get away" mode. A skeptic would say this had disaster written all over it, but I felt good, my legs weren't too heavy, and I wasn't going to let him get away that easily.
By the time we reached the turnaround our pace had quickened significantly. I ran that mile between 0.5 and 1.5 somewhere around 6:30-6:40, but still Brian had begun to pull away a little bit. That was fine. I was happy just to keep him in sight and have something to chase--as long as I can see him, I thought. But then something interesting happened. At the turnaround there was a water station and then about ten or twenty yards further there was a big yellow flag that marked the turn where we would have to circle the flag before coming back. The problem was that Brian thought the water station was the turnaround and he turned back right there. I was only a few seconds back so by the time I realized what he was doing I could only make a wild, unhelpful gesticulation as he went past.
Then, I was faced with a conundrum. Do I turn around there at the water station, or do I go to the flag as I knew the race organizers intended? Given the chance to reflect it's easy to see the right course of action, but in the moment (with lactic acid building up) it's hard to make a rational choice. With that said, I did make the right choice and I continued on to the flag.
I didn't know if this would come into play later.
In the meantime, of course, Brian had built up a more significant lead. He was also running faster than me (which definitely didn't help), but now, because of the shortcut, he was a good distance up the road. Coming from the other direction were the rest of the racers--all varying distances in the rear. I wasn't worried about anyone else right now. Perhaps one of them could bike like a demon, but I'd deal with that then. For now, I had one person in my sights. And it stayed that way the rest of the run. My legs were starting to get heavy and I doubted my fitness I don't know how many times, but as we pulled up to the transition area I was met with a wonderful (and terrifying) surprise.
20:25. I ran the first leg in 20:25. I wasn't sure whether to jump for joy or cry with the knowledge of how much this was going to hurt in legs 2 and 3. Crazily enough, this was the fastest I'd run a 5k this year.
Leg 2: 14 mile bike
Brian was just leaving the transition area as I was running in. But, for the second straight year, I had a flawless T1 transition. In fact, I gained probably ten seconds on him by the time I got my feet in my shoes and into a decent cadence on the bike. Better still, I wasn't killing myself and yet I felt like I was flying. Best of all: my bike computer wasn't working.
Flashback: Ten minutes before the race I'm messing with my bike, fitting my shoes on with rubber bands for an easy transition, and carelessly I knock the whole thing over. Thankfully, my wheels are still straight. There is no damage as far as I can see. I re-rack the bike and don't think about it again until I'm looking down at the computer when I'm riding for real. Nothing. No speed. No data. Something must have jostled loose, but there's no way to fix it now--not without stopping or fiddling with it, so it is what it is.
Thankfully, I didn't really need a computer to tell me how I was going. In fact, the computer probably would have just gotten in the way, forcing me to over-think what I was doing. In reality, it was simple. I had a fast cyclist up ahead of me and I was staying with him. It didn't matter if I was going 19 or 20 or 21 mph or faster. We were going about the same speed--at least for the first out and back. In fact, I felt like I had a good deal in the tank--like I could catch him if I really tried--but I didn't. I was happy pushing myself at a good pace and chasing somebody who I knew was faster than me.
On the second lap of the bike things started to change. Brian was slowly but steadily pulling away, and for the first time I knew one thing for certain: I was finishing second in this race. There was no way I was catching him unless he had a flat, a crash, or some other disaster. I also knew that I was putting more and more distance between myself and those behind me. Third on the road was a girl in her 20s on a really nice Trek triathlon bike (I told her as much afterwards, admitting to Kate that she doesn't need to worry about my checking out other women, but other women's bikes? Guilty).
Anyway, Brian was putting some serious distance between us on the second lap and I was starting to lose a little steam. Each passing mile was a couple seconds slower, and by the time I finished the 14 mile course I had been on the bike for just under 42 minutes--in other words, almost exactly a 20 mph average speed. Again, this was a nice surprise, considering how comfortable my legs felt. But even more of a surprise was how slow Brian was in the second transition...
Leg 3: 5k run
Coming into transition 2 I had a brain lapse as to how to unclip from my bike (and also where to unclip), and somehow or another I ended up with one foot out of the shoe and one foot in my cycling shoe while awkwardly running up to the transition zone. This was surely comical to watch, but other than that I again had a very good transition. I was using Kate's elastic laces on my running shoes, and boy does that make transitioning easy! By the time I got back on the road I was shocked to see Brian only maybe thirty or forty yards ahead. I took one look at my watch, and it read 1:03:51. I was still on a startlingly good pace.
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| My strength (more than running or biking) this year? The transition |
In fact, it became disconcerting. I was gaining on him. I realize that winning a race is always an option--somebody has to after all--but this was not my race to win; this was my race to finish second. So, it was to my immense surprise that, as we hit the turnaround (where he dutifully circled the flag this time) I was with him step for step.
Tragically, it was right then that things started to go south. I had run that first 2.5k in right around 10:15. That had to be too fast, and I knew it. More to the point, my stomach knew it. Water was sloshing around in my gut. Maybe I drank too much Gatorade on the bike, or maybe the nerves were getting the better of me, but step after step I was losing contact with Brian. He was pulling away again.
I wish I had a story of an heroic charge up the final straightaway, one last epic effort to pull him back and take a surprising victory, but I don't. He slipped away slowly but surely and finished in a time of 1:24:44... I finished twelve seconds back in 1:24:56. A final 5k of 21:05.
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| Natalie getting ready to bike |
I was happy... no, thrilled to have finished in under 1:25:00. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible. My last 5k was a full forty seconds faster than I ran the local 5k race here in Hallock last month--in spite of preceding this one with an earlier 5k of running and 14 miles of biking. I was astounded at how well I did, and spent the rest of the morning cheering on the other finishers and the kids' triathlon that followed, happily sitting in the shade.
When the time came for the awards I got one last surprise. As it turned out, they hadn't given Brian a penalty--not yet. The race director elected to give him a 5 second penalty, and so he officially finished seven seconds in front of me. Suddenly, I realized a couple of things: 1. My second transition was that much faster than his; 2. They could have very arbitrarily given me the win, and 3. I'm really, really glad they didn't. Last year I was the one who crossed the finish line first and later discovered I hadn't won. I really didn't want to re-create the same thing this year with roles reversed.
And who knows how much that early turnaround really saved him? Was it 5 seconds? 10? 15? 20? Or would it have changed the whole race completely. Might I have run faster if he didn't do that? Or slower? I don't know, and honestly I don't care, because as Fat Cyclist has sagely hashed out before: If you win a race it is not because you're the fastest; it's because the thousands of people who are faster than you elected not to show up to race that particular day.
And if that doesn't put it into perspective, I don't know what does. I am thrilled with my time, thrilled with my general fitness, and looking forward to the summer ahead. And to those who doubted whether I'd be able to stick with it with a baby at home and the other things in life that beg for my attention, I leave you with this:
Nanner-nanner.
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