Kokopelli Recap (no creative title available)

Kokopelli Recap (no creative title available)

What a great, great, great, great race. Anyone interested in doing this triathlon, I cannot recommend it any higher. Here's the nitty gritty:

Total time: 2:40:00 (weird, right?)

1500m Swim time: 35:48
100m splits: 2:20

20.4 mi Bike time: 1:04
MPH: 19.2

10K Run time: 56:02
Mile splits: 9:03

64/215 place overall
57/150 place in male division
13/25 place in age division

My amazing daughter also has an entry about it where she talks about the race from her point of view, but this is my account of things. And so, on with the retelling of the tale:

My stomach had been jumping up and down all week in anticipation, and I had probably gone out to the garage to fiddle with my bike 50 times that week, but on Saturday morning I got out of bed and got ready, cool as a cucumber. I had a nice shower to wake me up, and tried to eat some breakfast. I ended up only drinking about 12 oz. of banana smoothie, and that's all my stomach really wanted, and by the time I had choked down that much, my father in law was in the driveway to pick me up. We drove out to Sand Hollow chatting about little race tips, and what we were going to do the rest of the day (father in law: climbing, me: napping).

The organization at the actual event site is to die for, despite parking difficulties. The bike racks are set up according to race distance and entry number; those who had entered the race earlier got spots right close to the transition exit, making our bikes easy to find and quick to get on. I lost my father in law as we were setting up, as our assigned spots were on opposite ends of the transition area since he was racing Sprint distance and I was doing Olympic. I knew that I had a long time to wait before I would get into the water, so I basically threw everything down and sauntered over to the water to watch the first waves of guys go out.

I watched the first wave of sprinters go, mostly to look at the course and see if I could tell more or less how they handled swimming in a pack, since I've never really done so. It didn't look too bad, but there was one guy way at the back that was doomed right from the get go - the pour soul immediately started drifting to his right so bad that it wasn't long before he was headed completely in the wrong direction. I spoke to one of the lifeguards today who told me that they ended up pulling the guy out of the water after about 5 minutes. I was fairly confident in my sighting skills, but I made a mental note not to forget to sight every few strokes so that I could remain at least somewhat on course.

About 20 mins before my start time, I wandered back to transition, put on my wetsuit up to my armpits, laid out the rest of my gear in the best configuration that I could manage, and headed down to the dock. It was a bit too crowded to try and get into the water early to warm up, so I decided to chance a cold start. When the moment came, the organizers hearded us into the water single file, explained to us which buoys we needed to swim around, and just like that it was, "ready, set, go!"

I had intentionally positioned myself on the outside of the bunch to avoid the crowds, but even so, the first 200m were a little bumpy. Nevertheless I didn't ever experience the flush of nerves or jitteriness that I had before my previous swims, which I attribute now to being good and practiced in the open water. It was nice to have that peace of mind so I could just focus on my stroke and my preselected landmarks. Today's tips - get into the open water several times before you race, and learn how to defog your goggles beforehand, or invest in fog free goggles. I ended up stopping twice to clear mine off.

Anyway, I fell into a natural rhythm almost immediately and kept with it for the two triangular laps that we were required, and came in feeling good, but a little dizzy. I hopped out of the water, shouted hi to a lifeguard that I recognized, pulled my wetsuit off down to my waist, and hustled through to get onto my bike.



I got to my bike and stripped down, and immediately decided to forgo the procedure of drying off with a towel before pulling on my jersey and shoes. Probably a good move, as my T1 time was close to 3 mins, and one that I would recommend to anyone. You'll get dry on the bike, no doubt.

The bike course was a dream come true. I sped off right from the start and felt great nearly the entire 20 miles. There's a 6% grade hill right at mile 3 that lasts about 1.5 miles, which was difficult, but I alternated sitting and standing up in my pedals, and after a few minutes and a few hard pushes with my legs, I was up and over and headed for 7 more miles of straightaway. I managed to ride most of that side by side with another guy who I think is from northern Utah; we found breath enough to strike up a conversation as we rode along. We shared tri stories and swapped comments about the course, and thanked each other for keeping up the quick pace to get us through to the run. I didn't expect to have the time to talk to anybody, but the opportunity came as a very welcome surprise. I hope I can recognize that guy again in future races.

If I did make a mistake, though, it was during the bike course - I brought along two bottles of Gatorade, thinking that I would need to get in most of my calories during that hour. I felt compelled to drink it all and ended up pounding it down for most of the ride, and as it was undiluted Gatorade, my mouth felt sticky sweet the whole time. Next time, Pete, maybe just do one bottle of the Ade and one of water, and don't worry about finishing it all. The other miscalculation that I made, and this against the advice of world champ Chrissie Wellington, was that I attempted something new on race day: I decided to try out energy gels in addition to my normal nutrition regime. I took one just before the bike, and the other just before the run. Now, it may have been that my GI tract was not used to the gel, or it may have been the overhydration during the bike, or maybe it was just general indigestion caused by a nervous stomach, but as I came flying into T2, my insides started churning like a washing machine. I decided to just see if I could run it out, so I racked my bike, threw on my shoes, and headed out for the last 10K.



I think I "cracked" at about a mile and a half, just after a photographer took a snap of me with a big grin on my face. My belly was splashing like the sea at high tide, and I had a stitch in my right side from my ribs down to my hips. I was at a decision point: I could either walk for a couple of minutes and work it out, or I could keep pushing and risk collapse at about mile 3 or 4 and hobble in or wait for the sweeper truck. I decided to walk. I think I walked all the way to mile 2, stretching out my right side and trying to tell my body to absorb some of the liquid sloshing around in my stomach (does that work, just thinking about digesting faster?), and then I started back up at a slow trot. Just before then, my northern Utah friend strided by, offering words of encouragement. After I started back up, I decided that I would try to catch him.

The rest of the race was painful but in a cleansing, rite-of-passage sort of way - if all I did for the rest of my life was plod along until I crossed the finish line, it would be a job well done. I ended up catching my race friend about half a mile from the finish, and we ran together almost to the end. I crossed the finish line with a cheer from my family and a wave of relief, and stood there for a minute, unable to bend over to undo the safety pin that kept my race chip around my ankle so that I could collect my finisher's medal and sit down for heaven's sake. Eventually some kind gentlemen took it off for me, and I wandered over to my family, who had a chair waiting for me in the shade. It was over.



The post race day was great - after 20 mins or so, I managed to stand up and get some of the sponsors' post-race recovery spaghetti, which my daughters promptly pirated and ate mostly on their own, but I didn't mind as my stomach was still in a bit of a twist. I did manage to get in a few bites, though. Then a peaceful car ride home and the rest of the day, which included an AWESOME massage, a parade in downtown St. George, and watching my Utes cream the corn out of BYU. All in all, a pretty good day.



Evaluation

I'm calling this one a win, even though I didn't quite manage to hit my goal time. Of course, every race you finish is a win, since you always come away with something. I finished with a smile; I hit most of my goal paces; I overcame a serious mental and physical barrier; I can still walk today with only minimal soreness; I'm not so sick of triathlon that I never want to do one again; best of all, I'm left with the strange satisfaction of having generous room for improvement next year. I can definitely run faster with a different nutrition strategy. I'm pretty sure I can squeeze another 1-2 mph out of my current bike (and who knows how much I can get if a new bike is in the cards, which it probably isn't), and I feel like I can swim much faster. My training splits in just my jammers were all around 2:00 or under, so frankly I'm a bit surprised that I had slowed down so much on race day.

Takeaway

It's the engine that counts, folks, not the shiny exterior. I was outgunned in the equipment category during every discipline: there were guys out there in wetsuits nicer than mine, on bikes that could fund a couple of semesters' worth of quality college education, and in tri suits that made the costumes of the movie Tron look quaint and old fashioned, yet I managed to pass at least one of them during every leg.

Again, though, I'm not trying to say that equipment is not important, or that people are silly for spending their money on it; it does make a difference, but you can get surprisingly far without it. I have a serious goal of lowering the fiscal and mental overhead that keeps some people from entering the sport. If you're thinking about getting into triathlon but are low on funds, spend your money getting your body in peak shape first (which is surprisingly cheap), then supplement that by using good gear.

See you next year, Kokopelli!

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One Week Remaining

One Week Remaining

The summer has come and gone, the miles have been put in. Muscle glycogen stores are reaching a max, and the countdown is on. A couple more light workouts, and then come Saturday, the sun will rise on the Kokopelli Triathlon.

My goals:

Swim: 35:00 including time through T1
Bike: 19mph, or 1:05 through T2
Run: 48:00

Total time: 2:28

Up until a couple of weeks ago, the weather around here was nigh unbearable. Even a short 4-mile run at 6am left me beet faced and pouring sweat. It was difficult to imagine feeling cool air again, or a time when you might actually want to wear a long-sleeved shirt on your workout. I laughed at the idea that I started training in a time when I would wear my jacket on rides. But the last week has brought rain and high winds to the area, and now I often wait until mid day or afternoon to ride. I went for a swim yesterday at my local gym and was very thankful that I had already rented my wet suit for Saturday. It took about 150m to work out the chills and get comfortable.

What does that mean for race day? For one, I don't have to worry so much about overheating, which up until the beginning of this week I thought was inevitable. I am concerned about the swim, which will probably be colder than my training sessions out on the course. I'm going out to Sand Hollow one last time to test it and see.

It's been a great summer, on all accounts, and although my race season is far from over, I find myself waxing philosophical as my A race approaches. What lessons have I learned in preparation for my first Olympic distance tri? Now that I'm waist-deep into Triathlon as a hobby, have my feelings about it changed? How well have I balanced my training with my family life and other hobbies? Why do any of us do this, anyway? Where to go from here?

Know Thyself

In my opinion, this broad, sweeping aphorism is the most valuable lesson that one can learn from Triathlon, and conversely, it's the one bit of advice that can carry you farther than anything else. And it applies to nearly everything, from training schedules to equipment, pacing and nutrition, etc.

Specifically, find out where you are on the spectrum of triathletes: are you a weekend warrior, likely to enter into just one or two races a year, looking to keep fit and have some fun? Are you part of a group or team, or do you have the time and resources available to train for and enter into multiple races a year? Perhaps you're looking for a podium finish, or a qualifying time for Kona? Are you Craig Alexander or Chrissie Wellington, making a career out of it and looking to smash your own world records? Of course, we all move up and down the spectrum every year, mostly (in my case) dependent on the other factors in our lives and how much time we can really afford to spend away from them, but spending just a little bit of time to determine where you are on the scale and what your goals really and realistically are can help you really spend that time and money wisely.

For example, I would describe myself on the mid- to lower end of the spectrum. I love triathlon, I'd love to spend many years doing it, but I can't realistically dedicate more money and effort than it takes to enter more than just a handful of races a year - maybe two A races and half a dozen B and C races. I am about 10-12 lbs above my ideal weight (I think), and my bike could be described, in horsey terms, as an "Old Paint." I donate plasma to earn my triathlon funds, so I have to think hard about where that money can be spent to the greatest benefit. It's very tempting to dedicate that money (plus a chunk from savings) toward replacing the Dawn Treader (as I call my bike) with a brand new, shiny, carbon-forked Cervelo with aero bars and top of the line rims and shifters. I can save some weight, get a better fit on my machine, look cooler, maybe think about how to equip it with a sophisticated hydration system.

However, if I take a step back and really look at myself - is this really the next logical step that I can take to get better or have a better time doing triathlon? $1500 would go an awfully long way in supplying other things. I might be able to drop 2-3 or even 5 lbs by getting a new bike; how much would it really cost to watch my diet for a few weeks and lose the 5 lbs of body fat off of my ample frame? I can maintain a more stable, aerodynamic position by switching from shifters on my down tube to something a bit more modern; am I really fit enough to be able to maintain the speed necessary to take aerodynamics into consideration? Let's even say that I do lose the 5 lbs in body weight and get fit enough to where I have to think about aerodynamics - will it make it more "worth it" to do a triathlon with a brand new bike as opposed to going through another season on the Dawn Treader?

The answer to that question will inevitably be yes at some point, but in really knowing myself and what my goals are in doing a triathlon (have fun, stay fit, maybe raise some cash for a charity), I can put that purchase in perspective and give it the right priority that it really deserves. Once I drop down to about 6-8% body fat and am consistent with my weight training, and I've got all my other equipment bought (wetsuit, goggles, good running shoes, etc), and I feel that I've progressed as far as I possibly can on the bike that I have, then it might be time to invest the money. As a side note, a big thanks to Greg who gave me the Dawn Treader for free on a semi-permanent loan. It was the turning point that got me riding and has carried me to where I am.

This applies everywhere. Are you thinking about adding more grape skins or sunflower butter to your diet and getting the right amount of Omega 3s when you might be better served by focusing on getting your basic 5 servings of fruits and vegetables every day? Are you worried about what kind of aerodynamic helmet you look best in, when you might want to think about doing some simple sprint exercises and increasing your race pace by 1 or 2 mph? Have you booked your time at the wind tunnel, when you could spend more time at the track or in the pool?

I might sound like a cynic in writing all of the above, and that I'm trying to knock down people's lofty ideas, but that's not my position at all. There seems to be a lot of information out there aimed at people who are very high up on the spectrum of "triathlon seriousness," and it can be intimidating for people who are just getting started or who are looking to get something out of triathlon other than sponsorship or a medal. At a certain level, wind tunnel time and grape skins and getting the right lubricant under your wetsuit for a quick transition time are good and important, but there are a lot of cheap, easy ways to boost your performance and increase your enjoyment of the sport that might ultimately serve you better, and the more clearly you define what you want to get out of triathlon, and the more time you spend really examining yourself and your own habits and abilities, the easier it is to find these things and prioritize them, so that you can (if it's your goal) move up the spectrum to a point where you do need to worry about things like Yasso 800's, plyometrics, what flavor Gatorade mixes best with salt tablets, which Ironman venue you want to conquer first, whom to pick among the many people who want to sponsor you, etc.

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