“Running in place will never get you the same results as running from a lion.”
– The Most Interesting Man in the World.
So after my epic fail at 2012 Sevierville sprint triathlon what did I do different in preparing for 2013: everything. No seriously: everything. Shortly after the race I replaced my 1994 Trek 470 with a 2004 Masi Vincere triple. During the winter I dusted off my used Cycleops Mag Plus trainer and actually used it. I went so far as to take it to my local bike mechanic and asked him to find out why its resistance adjustment didn’t work. Turns out the cable wasn’t connected. Thanks Timmy. I went to West Bicycles in Knoxville and got a bike fit on the Masi. Shout out to Fares and Kelly.
More importantly I got a grip and a plan. I picked out a sprint triathlon plan from Triathlete Magazine’s Essential Week-by-Week Training Guide by Matt Fitzgerald. My training got a lot less random when every week had two swims, two rides and two runs. Train in three sports for a triathlon? An idea so crazy it could just work. My workouts got less random also. Now each had a structure and a purpose. I wasn’t just swimming, biking and running. Now there were drills, intervals and strides.
Most importantly I attended two triathlon clinics put on by the Tri Cities Triathlon Club. I want to thank every member of TCTC who welcomed me wholeheartedly into the club, even those of you that kicked me in the pool or swam over me or both or both repeatedly. Special shout out to the instructor of the TCTC clinics, Triathlon Coach John Hanna. He improved my swim dramatically and helped me change my running form, getting rid of my heel strike and freeing me from shin splints. I also got a lot of good information, tips and a completely new understanding of hydration from a series of lectures during the off season. Thanks Upton. Waterlogged: The Serious Problem of Overhydration in Endurance Sports by Timothy Noakes should be required reading for all triathletes.
If like me, you tend to take the lone wolf route with your training, I urge you to seek out other triathletes. Whether you trail alone because of a lack of speed, lack of confidence or lack of a local triathlon group, reach out there is someone you can learn from and train with at least a little. All of your life you’ve been told that there is strength in numbers. This is certainly true. Here is a new concept I want you to try on for size. There is speed in numbers.
For more details about my preparation and training for this race, please see my earlier posts about the clinics, as well as, Weeks of Tweaks and Back on the Bike.
This time I started training for the race months in advance and gear preparation weeks in advance. Two weeks before the race I ordered new Continental Grand Prix 4000 S tires, bought Xtenex elastic shoelaces, picked up another pair of Aqua Sphere Kayenne swim goggles and called my local bike shop, Rocky Top Bicycles, Morristown, TN, to schedule a pre-race check up for my bike. I wanted to make sure I had time for at least one test run with each new item. Nothing new on race day.
I started gathering gear and putting everything into a backpack a week before race day. A new NC State Wolfpack t-shirt arrived just in time to complete my race kit. Thanks Frank. The night before the race, I threw a backpack of gear into my van, attached my bike rack and bike. Good to go in about 15 minutes. And since we had moved 45 minutes further away from Sevierville, I booked a room at a local hotel to cut race day driving time. And yes I printed out directions this year just in case.
Sevierville 2013: Plan Meets Reality
Training montage music goes here. May 18th, 2013, was a wet rainy Saturday, and I was more than a little worried. None of my previous half dozen triathlons had been in the rain. I had trained for months, but it had been a mixed bag. My swim was definitely stronger. I felt stronger on the bike but my bike computer wasn’t really showing the improvement. Stupid technology. As far as the run, at least now I could run without pain but was I any faster?
When the transition zone opened at 6:30 am, I was there with my bike and backpack ready get my race packet, pick a spot and set up. Once I got everything where I wanted and my shoes bagged to keep some of the rain out, I headed to the pool to warm up. Let me rephrase that I headed to the pool to adjust my body and mind just how cold the all-night rain had made that pool water. Soon we got the call to clear the pool. There was nothing left to do but stand around in the rain chatting as hypothermia set in and wait for the race to start.
The horn sounds, swimmers enter the water and the line moves forward. Soon there are only a few swimmers between me and the pool. I start to panic, afraid the cold water and race stress will have me hanging on the pool wall like last year. I remember what a wise man told me, “you can’t bull through panic, you have to collapse into it.” I slow my breathing and step forward. The man slapped me on the shoulder and shouted, “go!”
I hit the water. The cold is overwhelming, and I have trouble putting my face in the water. Because of my warmup swim I’m prepared and able to cope. I slow my pace and start humming a little motivational song I use for hills on the bike and long runs. I make it to wall, go under the rope and start the 2nd length. I’m getting into a rhythm now and passing some of the other swimmers. I’m still slightly stressed and a little breathless but I keep stroking. Rinse, lather, repeat. Then I realize I’m on the final length. A couple swimmers surge past me, and I’m at the wall. I grab the wall, bend my knees and shoulder roll onto the pool deck. It’s not graceful but I’m out of the pool with only one thought careening around in my misshapen skull: “Get to the bike, get to the bike, get to the bike.”
I jog toward transition, getting a high five from Dustin on the way. I get to my bike and transition the way I practiced. I don shirt, glasses, helmet, bike shoes. This year: no socks, gloves or doo-rag. Before the race I dusted the inside of my bike shoes and running shoes with baby powder to reduce friction. Thanks Janine. I unrack my bike, grab it by the seat and run it through transition. I pass the mount line, throw a leg over, clip in and take off.
The Fat Man Crankth
Rain is falling and water is running in channels on the road. The bikes ahead of me are throwing up rooster tails of spray. The rain alternates between slackening and thickening but never really goes away. As I ride out of the park I try to anticipate the other riders and keep my distance more than usual uncertain of my ability to handle the bike in bad weather. I recall what Kevin said at the pre-race meeting: “Y’all know your brakes don’t work now, right?”
The first half of the bike course is mostly on highway. Riders have their own lane marked off by cones. Police are at every intersection. I go out pretty fast. I had planned to try to maintain a cadence of about 80 rpm, just a bit faster than my usual 75. Every time I look down at the bike computer my cadence is 90 or higher. Interestingly enough my average cadence for the race will turn out to be about 75. So either the 50 to 60 rpm on the hills brought it down or I faded late in the bike and just didn’t notice.
About a third of the way through the bike, I start thinking about easing off a bit to save something for the run. Then a woman on mountain bike starts to pass me. I pick up the pace and put her behind me. I have no problem getting chicked it happens to me quite regularly. I may not be on a triathlon bike or a state-of-the-art road bike but I am on a road bike. Surely I can drop a mountain bike on a paved road. My quads are getting fried. So I stop thinking about mashing the pedals and start thinking about wiping my feet to transfer some of the load to my hamstrings. Thanks again, Upton.
I make the turn onto Forge Hideaway Road, home of Hillzilla. As the road grows steeper I shift to the tiny little chainring of my triple, an advantage I didn’t have last year. I’ve been thinking about my rematch with Hillzilla for quite some time and debated whether I should try to ride the steepest pitch or just walk it again. As I round the corner and eyeball my nemesis, the climb looks doable. I stand in the pedals and crank toward the summit. Hillzilla is going down. My breath comes in gasps and my heart rate spikes but I make it over.
From here on out the course is pretty much two-land country road. This is where they store the hills and curves. As I crest each hill, I assess the road below making sure I don’t gain more speed than I can carry through the curves in these wet conditions. Shortly I crest a hill and look down on Collier Drive, a four-lane highway, we have to cross. The police have traffic stopped to let the racers through. I pause for a beat, make sure the cops see me then shift into the big chainring and crank. The middle turn lane is slightly raised, and I figure there is a 50/50 chance I’ll catch some air. I don’t but it is still cool to make a blast across a four-lane.
I find myself on some rollers and a road bike passes me. Instead of fading into the distance it stays about 50 feet ahead. At the top of the next roller, my left hand of it’s own volition, shifts into the big chainring and my cadence increases. Apparently some part of my nervous system has decided to contest his lead. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my frontal lobe. I storm past and hold a lead for about a half mile. Then we hit a hill and he drops me like I’m a 10-year-old delivering newspapers on a three-speed. I find myself alone for the last couple miles of the bike course. Then I’m back on Park road. I turn into the park, stop at the dismount line, get off and hustle into transition.
Man On The Run
I rack my bike. Drop my glasses, helmet and bike shoes. I put on my running shoes then grab my cap and race belt. I bolt for the run exit and under my breath I’m chanting: “Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof.” Yes my daughter and I have watched “Mulan” many times over the years. Total elapsed time for T2: just under one minute.
As I start the run I catch up with Steve, another TCTC member. I consider him to be the toughest triathlete out here today. We exchange greetings, and I move on. It’s a two lap run course, mostly running path and sidewalk with some grassy fields thrown in. About three quarters of the way through the first lap, Dawn passes me. Turns out getting chicked by someone you know is way better than being chicked by a stranger. At the beginning of my second lap I hear a familiar voice asking me if this is the run course. It’s Melissa well on her way to completing her first triathlon. We chat for a bit then our respective paces separate us.
At this point I’m just trying to hold what I’ve got. I know my swim was faster than last year. I have a good feeling about the bike as well. There wasn’t time to check the bike computer. I don’t want to lose ground on the run. Although I’ve been a runner on and off most of my life, I hate the run leg of triathlons. You so desperately want to finish strong but you have so very little left to give. I have got to be faster than last year. Got to be faster. Finally the finish line is in sight. I pick up my pace and sprint across it. After I cool down I hang around the finish line with my wife and the TCTC gang and cheered as more triathletes finish. It was a very good day, so much better than last year.
The Bottom Line
When I got home and compared my 2012 and 2013 stats, I found that I had managed to improve in every aspect of the race. I was thrilled, relieved and validated. I cut my swim time by 45 seconds. My T1 time decreased by almost 90 seconds. I chopped almost six minutes off the bike leg. My T2 time dropped by 1:40. Finally my run time came down a full six minutes, making it my fastest 5K in over a year. Thanks again to everyone who shared this journey of inspiration, information and perspiration.