The Cold, Lonely Road

So, training is always a lonely activity. It's definitely more fun when the weather heats up, the days are longer, and you can ride with some of your buddies. I look forward to those days.

But today was one of those days where I needed to log hours, a tone for pork eating since Thanksgiving, and begin to shed some pounds in anticipation of strong January rides. I was able to get out for about two hours combining two of my favorite routes: the Stuart/Mora and 10 Mile Creek.

A nagging slow leak in my rear to forced me to stop and hand-pump it several times. It's time to change that. It's a patch that I made that held pretty well. In the beginning the slow leak would only show itself after two or three days. Today, it was a matter of two or 3 miles. It's time for it to go.

This blog was never intended to be a training log. Years from now, I won't be interested in individual rides but in the trends,races, and experiences I do not of my first racing seasons. But to get this record moving again, it's necessary to start today by sharing a training ride.

I took a quick picture while I was on Kuna Mora Road after stopping to pump up my rear tire. It shows how much snow is still on the ground and making no effort to melt. That means it's cold. More to come.

Snake River Handicap...

This was the last race of the 2009 season.  I believe it was my 19th race of the year and my first road race.  I have done more crits than any other discipline in cycling this year and had somehow missed all of the regular road races.  Deciding long ago to not race on Sundays, I didn't see the the value in doing any of the local multi-day race and then dropping out on the last day.  Perhaps because I was worried I wouldn't want to be tempted to sacrifice any winnings, I stayed away.  After a full season as a CAT 5, there is clearly no danger of losing any of my winnings.  :)

I did this race alone.  Starnes, Prince, Smith, and Larson all opted out of this race.  Until Saturday AM, Jared's wife was still working on him to come race but it was not to be.  I drove out to Glen's Ferry by myself at 8:30 in the morning.  I even put the job of picking up my parents on Ali.  Sweet girl.  

Our parking and start area was so covered with goat heads that no one could use a trainer or even roll there bike around.  Everyone carried there rides to the road and start line to avoid the sting of these nasty tire popping seeds.  

I only got about 10 minutes to warm up.  Jackson and I got to ride to the top of the first climb and then back to the bridge just before the finish line before we had to return to start.  He had driven the course before, something I wanted to do, but arrived so late, it was not possible.  He mentioned there were two pretty serious climbs even though it had been billed as rollers.  These climbs had 12% sections in them for a hundred feet or so.  

The old guys shot off first.  In this handicap format, groups were released based on the inverse of expected finish order with CAT 1-2 guys last.  The only issue, the releases were only 4 minutes apart.  Four minutes over 50 miles.  There was no doubt that the catch was imminent. 

The older guys rolled out first, CAT4-5 and Masters B, CAT 3 and Masters A (Women 1-2-3 also), and then the 1-2 guys.  We started with 11 in our group.  After the first climb, just a mile in, we lost one.  He made a noise like "uh-oh" and was off the back.  I did what I usually do, which is to start talking and convince the group to work together, as we were going to be at it for another 3 hours.  

The pace line was firm with only one rider (Lost River) over doing his pace on the front.  Several of us talked him down a bit and we fell into a nice 21+ pace.  8 miles in we hit our second hill.  While the pace was even, the group split a little.  A Boise State rider who had be very good to me in a previous race fell off the back.  I made a decision at that point that would effect the rest of my day.  I told the other BSU riders I would fall back and support him for a bit.  

With no aspirations in this race (or any this year) of winning, certainly not with the CAT 1-2 guys only 8 minutes behind, I decided to play a roll and ride with a good guy.  We were in sight of the main group for the next 4 miles.  Another rider, Matt, got the first flat of the day thanks to a goat head.  Dylan and I actually stopped and helped him change it and made it a trio.  

In the second lap, we picked up the only woman in the race, a strong rider named Heather.  She and her husband Uhl are the strongest cycling couple around.  The 4 of us worked together for the next 20 miles.  

Unfortunately, Dylan started to fade and I decided to have them push on and I dropped back to help him again.  In the 3rd lap, we picked up Sam, the only youth rider in the race, and talked him out of abandoning.  I should say, at this point the ride was becoming very uncomfortable.  Despite the mild start, it was getting hot, the hills were taking there toll, and even though I had been hydrating like no other, I was starting to cramp a little.  So were the other guys.  At this point in the race, we discovered later, 1/3 of the racers had already abandoned including Sam's father Alfredo (one of my absolute favorite guys).  

We stuck it out together the rest of the way.  Four miles from the end, my legs seised up and I needed to hop of the bike for a minute.  I sent Dylan and Sam on ahead.  They needed the momentum to finish.  Alfredo was great in his "team car" and even helped me fix a flat and encouraged me as I chased back on.

In the end, I finished just ahead of the SAG in 16th place.  Had I finished with Dylan and Sam I likely would have taken a prize home.  But, that's not why I raced.  

Despite the flat, the heat, the wind, the hills, and the dehydration, I had a blast.  I would do it all again...but with more electrolytes.  

In the beginning...

So I have been collecting this ridiculous collection of event numbers and hanging them on the office wall.  At first, there were just a couple and they were motivating.  I felt like they told a story.  I was quite heavy at one time, I got active, lost the weight, and the bib numbers were a point of pride.  

When there got to be dozens of them, they lost there motivating power and became an unorganized dangly mess.  I want to keep them, of course but need a better way to tell the story.  The ability to look at the race number and retell the story is getting more difficult, so...this winter, I am going to do my best to journal about what I have done in my 2 years of triathlon and cycling.  Maybe there is a story, maybe not.  After a while, I imagine I will have these blogs printed into a book for my children to laugh at, or maybe see themselves in.  This should be fun.

Y-Not-Tri? Okay, don't mind if I do...

I enjoy triathlons. I mean, what's not to like? You swim until you puke getting kicked by everyone, stumble lightheaded out of the water, ride until your hands go numb, jump off and slam your shoes on, and run (while cramping) as every Gold's Gym muscle head passes you. That's been my experience at least.

As an average high school swimmer, the first leg has always been the part I felt the most comfortable with. Almost without training, I could at least finish the swim on an olympic distance triathlon. This is where the problem lies!

Let me see if I can set the stage. Only two days after returning from a nearly two week trip to Oregon for, among other things, my 20 year high school reunion the Boise Y-Not-Tri super sprint triathlon was being held at Park Center. Two friends, Nate Olsen and Corey Jacobson, were competing. Because I had not trained (or registered) for the event, I rode my bike from Boise State the short distance to play the part of fan. The festive atmosphere proved to be too much for me to handle.

I approached the packet pick up and started working my magic and, with only 50 minutes before the start of the Men's Intermediate/Advanced heat, scored a race number and timing chip. I called Ali, who was at least 30 minutes away and begged her to bring me running shoes, race belt, and my try suit. While I was prepared to swim in my cycling bibs and run barefoot, the right equipment would make it more fun.

Ali arrived 7 minutes before the start and I was able to perform a quick change in the car while giving her instructions on how to set my gear for transition 2. With my bike already placed, I sprinted across the road and straight into the water as they were giving the 1 minute warning.

The gun sounded and the 100 yard sprint started. Even thought I knew there was no way I was going to stay in front, sprinting the first 100 yards of the swim can make the difference of 2-3 minutes even in a short swim. Tangling with other swimmers can wear you out and slow you down. Having done zero swim training this summer due to cycling, it was harder than I remember even though is was only supposed to be the 400m distance. Park Center is a green duck-poop pond. Many are deterred from participating by the color and relative consistency of the water. Did I mention it smelled funny?

The final 100 yards was a mix of crawl stroke and breast. Gassed from lack of swim training, I didn't want to stumble as I came out of the water. The carpet they lay across the 5 foot hill you run up out of the water was the site of many embarrassing wipeouts for racers caught unawares. After walking the first couple of steps out of the water, I sprinted up the carpet and avoided the crash.

I transitioned fast and hit the bike in less than a minute. After taking the first corner, my brother-in-law Shem, a Boise motorcycle officer, appeared next to me and rode the first mile along side. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

Just thrilled to be in the race and done with the most difficult part, I sat up and enjoyed the ride, never pushing very hard. In fact, I didn't even feel like I was racing. Since I hadn't planned on participating, my bike had no aero bars. It was quite relaxing. At one point before the turn, a guy on a mountain bike passed me. That was not okay on any level, so I put the hammer down and just put enough distance between us to assure there would be no repeat.

T2 was quick, about 45 seconds. Ali had placed my shoes and race belt in the perfect spot. She may get the job more often. With shoes on, I hit the run. As I was coming out of T2, I passed a newer racer who was still wearing his helmet.

"Safety first?", I asked. He was laughed and ditched his lid in a bush near the start.

The run was relaxed, it was only two miles after all. I passed some people and was passed by others. In my mind, I was not racing. It was simply a fun event I was able to enjoy on a fun, rainy day.

I made the turn at the halfway point, grabbed some water and continued with a smile on my face. It was then that Corey Jacobson came into view. He was only about 200 yards behind me. The smile was gone. My friend was in striking distance and a much better runner. After doing some quick math I picked up the pace. If I could pull the final mile in 7.5 minutes, I might be able to hold on. I just didn't want to get passed by Corey. He was competing in his first Y-Not and I in my second. By seniority, I needed to finish ahead.

Pounding it out I covered the final mile in not much less than 8, a pace that pretty well removed the smile from my face. I rounded the finishing corner and saw he was still 100 yards back. I smiled, waved at my wife, Jared and Allison, the Jacobsons, and some other friends and crossed the finish line.

In the final analysis, I didn't train, didn't plan, and didn't try as hard as I did in the previous year but finished in the same overall place. I was 13th overall and 2nd in age group (Intermediate) compared to 13th overall 2nd in age group (Beginning) in the previous year.

If I do it next year, I will train for the swim and see if I can climb into the top 10.