Capitol City Tri Race Report

In mid-July, we participated in the second annual Capitol City Triathlon, organized by some good friends. There is nothing better than a home-city race! In fact, knowing that the traffic and parking situation was going to be crazy (there was a NASCAR race the same day), we just got on our bikes and rode over to the transition area. Super-convenient! 

This race came after several weeks of crazy travel for us, including our trip to the Southwest and a trip B and I took with my folks to Washington DC, so we weren't exactly at the peak of our form! 

Swim

Until the night before the race, there was some controversy as to whether there would even be a swim. There had been lots of rain and the Merrimack River was running high—so high that there had been several drownings in the preceding couple of weeks. Things calmed down enough in the few days prior that the state allowed the swim to go forward with a shortened and slightly modified course. This was very good for Alex (an excellent swimmer) and bad for me (who would just as well skip the swim).

Alex went in with the first wave, had a fast swim as always, and was back out and headed toward transition in time for me to cheer for him before starting my own swim. Here he is, looking hardcore, coming out of the water:

                                       

At the beginning of my race, I was happy just to be moving upstream in the water as I swam, rather than getting swept back by the current. We stuck close to the bank on the way up the stream, and then were supposed to go around two turn buoys and head back. Except, sometime in between Alex's wave and mine, one of those corner buoys broke free and floated away. This forced my wave to make a turn that put us directly against the strong current and caused a terrifying hamster-wheel like effect for me where the buoy didn't seem to be getting any closer as I struggled to reach it. Once I finally managed to go around the buoy, I zipped very quickly back down the river with the current. Here I am, extremely relieved to be approaching the boat ramp to get the heck out of the water:

Bike

Then we were off on the bike—very familiar roads! The photographer (also a friend) caught a couple of great shots of Alex zipping along:

 I kept hearing that there was one woman out in front of me, though despite riding hard, I could never find her. Then, with about a half mile to go on the bike, I saw her...already half a mile into the 5K run! So I knew I wasn't going to be catching her. She turned out to be training for the world championships—totally out of my league!

Run
I had a decent, though not great run, and got passed by a couple of women from the wave behind me, to end up fourth overall and first in my age group.

Alex also had a very successful day, second in his age group. The awards were the best ever—local honey from someone who participated in the race! Yum. We had a wonderful time with all of our teammates, and our tri team pretty much dominated the podium. 

New England TriFest: Olympic

Our last race reports, from the Rev3 Quassy, were a full month after the race itself. Let's try for some greater diligence, now. Our most recent race, the New England Trifest, was just last weekend.

The New England Trifest is an Olympic and Half-Iron distance tri that takes place in and around Lake Fairlee in Vermont. In some ways this is a new tri, but also an old one. There has been a triathlon of some sort for many years at Lake Fairlee, but there was also a bit of a dry spell when no race was held. We signed up for a Lake Fairlee triathlon last summer - only to have it cancelled and (only partially) refunded a month or two before race day. This year's triathlon was being put on by Sun Multisport Events, which runs a handful of other races in the NE. New management, new course, same location.

As with Quassy, because the race is close by, Hilary and I did some reconnaissance a few weeks ahead of time. The course is overall a lot less hilly than Quassy, which is a nice change. We did one circuit of the 28-mi bike loop. This is a bit longer than a standard Olympic-distance (40 km, or 24.9 mi), but done so that the half-iron race could be accomplished by looping it twice. After leaving the transition area at Camp Horizons on lake shore, there are a few miles of easy ascent, followed by a long and fast descent down to VT rt 5. The course follows along rt 5 for a long while, during which it is relatively flat and fast. The race organizers added a goofy 1-mi out-and-back halfway down rt 5 to pad the mileage, but surely they could have picked a better spot for it. When the course reaches the Ompompanoosuc River (I love that name!), it makes a hard right and moves inland further into Vermont. After passing through a one-lane covered bridge at Union Village, the course begins a long ascent to the top of Thetford Hill, followed by a bombing descent down into Thetford Village. The following few miles could be considered flat and fast, if the road were not in such shitty and pockmarked shape. (This is Vermont, right? Unlike New Hampshire, where crummy roads are the proud mark of a low-taxed, anti-gub'mint state, you would think the socialist paradise of Vermont would have the tax structure to keep its roads in good shape. Ah well.) Just when you start seeing the "Caution: Bumpy Road" and "Road Construction" signs in Post Mills, and think you are really in for it, the course makes another right onto rt 244, providing a final 2 miles on smooth, flat pavement next to the lake and back to transition.

Hilary and I did not preview the run: it is 3.1 miles out on a relatively flat and uneventful paved road, followed by 3.1 miles right on back. It's about as boring a course as one could image.

As it happens, Hilary and I were already pretty familiar with the course. During my final year at Dartmouth, we frequently used these roads to travel between our home in Norwich and our friends' blueberry farm in West Fairlee; it is the place where we were married. This is how crazy triathletes celebrate their anniversary.

Going into the race, we had no good notion of how we would fare. We knew enough about our own abilities to guess at when we might finish, but no sense of the competition. Would we, like at Quassy, be small fish in a big (1000+) pond? Would it be just a few hundred, where we might have a shot at the podium? We did not learn until race day that it was somewhere in between. There were approximately 150 racers for the half-iron, and some 250 for the Olympic. Judging from some of the equipment we saw being pushed around, it was clear that some very serious contenders would be there. We later learned that there were even a handful of professionals racing.

Race Day
Swim: 1500 m (0.9 mi), 23:48, 3/18 in age group
Because there was a half-iron race going on simultaneously, the swim course was a bit confused. The Olympic course was a straightforward, 1.5 km rectangle. Within that, marked by other buoys, was a squarish course that the half-irons would loop once in order to reach the 1.2 mile mark. Those racers were released first, and many had completed that funky loop when the Olympic waves were sent off. The water temperature was around 70 (it would have been higher, but two weeks of seemingly endless rain had cooled things right down), and although the sun shone down through partly cloudy skies, siting was not difficult. Unlike at Quassy, where seeding myself at the back of the pack meant my first few hundred yards were a difficult scrum passing slower swimmers, this time I seeded myself right at the line, and faced very little crowding. I was even able to do a little drafting behind some other swimmers, something that I rarely do.

And yet, my swim split this morning was identical to what it was a month ago. Guess I could have left a bit more out there. No time to fuss with that, though - onto the bike!

Bike: 28 mi, 1:25:11, 19.7 mph avg, 7/18 in age group
This bike was a lot of fun. I passed a bunch of people during the ascent from Lake Fairlee, and really enjoyed the long downhill to rt 5. My legs and my gearing max out at around 35 mph; on some hills around Concord I can coast to just over 40. So when I looked down near the bottom and saw 47 mph I had a brief "Holy Shit!" moment. The cruise along rt 5, which is slightly downhill in a lot of places, was also pretty enjoyable. It was a kick to see my instantaneous speed of 23 mph pulling down my average speed. The out-and-back was a pain in the butt, mostly because that side road is in lousy shape. On my way back I had a brief flash of anger when I saw a pickup in my lane slow down to a stop and start chatting to the pickup in the other lane, while cyclists on either side were trying to squeeze past. WTF? I can understand locals asserting their territorial rights, but that's just plain obnoxious.

There was a bit of a pileup just after the covered bridge, where the road immediately turns and starts steeply upward. I had planned for this by downshifting on the bridge and, being a decent climber anyway, was able to get around most of it. The rest of the ascent went well: I was able to keep up a steady, but hard effort, and made pretty good time for those 2.5 miles. The descent off Thetford hill was another screamer, but I had to reign it in a bit, knowing that there was a turn onto utterly shitty roads waiting at the bottom. I think that, next year, the race organizers should offer the entire village free race entry if they would just fix that damn road.

I had been hoping to have an average pace over 20 mph - something I haven't hit since a sprint-distance race last spring. I can make some allowance for the long distance and the long ascent in the middle, though. Overall, I felt pretty good about it.

Run: 10 km (6.2 mi), 48:47, 7:53/mi avg pace, 10/18 in age group
I was determined to not have a repeat of my dismal run at Quassy. That was my over-arching strategy for this final part of the race: finish strong. I tried to push some additional calories in during the bike. I had taken a salt tablet just before the race, and another on the bike. This course was flatter, but also pretty uninspiring, with long stretches of pavement under the blazing sun in 80+ degree heat. I consciously tried to not go out too fast, I wanted to be sure to have something left for the finish. Overall, the strategy worked - I was able to run the entire course without stopping to a walk or having my quads cramp up. It also meant that my average pace was not what I would usually call fast. Still, this was a success, and something to build on in future races.

In the early miles I was passed by an older fellow from the Boston Triathlon Team, moving at a good clip (7:00/mi or so). He passed me; I offered no challenge. A little ways past the turnaround I came across him again, this time walking. I continued at my own pace, and heard him break back into a run shortly afterwards. He soon passed me again, only to slow back to a walk half a mile later. I caught him; he started running again. This repeated another two or three times coming in towards the finish. For a stretch in the final mile he and I were shoulder to shoulder: he was pulling me to a faster pace, I was pulling him to a slower pace. That seemed to work pretty well. Eventually he pulled away for a final time close to the finish line. It seemed a strange way to run, but I was not about to lecture him.

Overall, I ended up 6th in my age group - in the top 3rd. I had been hoping to finish just a bit higher, but I'm pleased with the result. I had also been hoping to break that 2:30:00 mark, but the added miles on the bike course put that out of reach.

Next up: a sprint triathlon in our hometown. It'll be fun to be racing on home territory. The sprint distance will be a welcome change - the entire race duration could fit into what is nowadays a long bike workout. I think that having that deep training base will allow me to push pretty hard. We'll see!

Rev3 Quassy June 1: Alex's Race Report

Hilary hit many of the high points about the race, but I'll throw my two cents in.

Preparation
As Hilary mentioned, given the close proximity of the race course to her parents' place, we had easy access to do some reconnaissance. About a month prior, I had (with Hilary) practiced the run course on a Saturday morning. The following morning we practiced the bike course, then bricked into the run. That prep was definitely to my advantage, because although I like hills, the hilliness of this particular course would have thrown me off base if I didn't know what was coming. This was especially true for the run course, which has a killer hill starting at the 3-mile mark. During the second dry run, after doing the bike, I was rather pleased with myself to doing the run at around a 7:30/mile pace. This all boded well for race day.

Race Day
Swim: 1500 meters, 23:48
I do moderately well in my own age group overall. In the swim is where I really excel. Oftentimes if I end up in the top third for a race overall, I'll end up in the top 10% for the swim. So, you would think that by now I would have the confidence to really toe the line and put myself in the front line for the swim start. But no, I'm either too polite or don't like the notion of getting run over. So, instead, I started off towards the back of my wave, which sucked. For the first few hundred meters I would have to pull up short every 10 strokes, lest I end up with someone's feet in my face. At one point a nearby swimming managed to dislodge my goggles. So by the time I hit the first turn about 500 meters in, I was very glad that things had thinned out in my vicinity and I could just cruise. In spite of the frustrating start, I ended up with a pretty sweet time for myself - my fastest at the Olympic distance by nearly one minute.

Having now done almost twenty triathlons, I also do very well in transition. I can whip that wetsuit off and get on the bike pretty quick. (I could probably go faster if I didn't stop to put socks on.) Rev3's race results show that I actually moved up a few positions, from 8th to 5th in my division of about 70, due my fast T1.

Bike: 25.68 mi, 1:21:39, 18.9 mph avg
Having done recon some weeks before, it was handy to know where the long descents on the bike were, so that I could really open it up (I topped out around 42 mph at one point), but also know where to pull up in preparation for turns, and to not get frustrated during the many ascents.

Because of the hilly nature of the course, I knew that my average pace wouldn't be so hot. Still, I'd call ~19 pretty good. It is tough for me to gauge what my best sustained pace could be, because there aren't any long rides or races near home that would qualify as "flat". Maybe I should go do a race in Florida or Iowa just to find out.

I don't know what I was concentrating on so hard in this picture, but it must have been pretty important.

Run: 6.2 mi, 52:14, 8:24/mi avg
I've been having some good run training lately. We've got hills around here, and I like to push on them. I knew what the course looked like, and I felt good coming off the bike. My split for the first gradual-downhill mile of the course was 7:40 (based on a $25 Timex). I thought that I could sustain that effort, maybe make some moves on the uphills, and move up a few places in my age group. Alas, it didn't quite go as planned. The first two miles were good. I made solid passes of two people in my age group during the first sustained rise between miles 2 and 3. Although there were many walkers during the awful hill just past mile 3, I was not one of them. It wasn't a fast climb, but you could call it running.

But upon reaching the top, my quads started to cramp up. The run along the ridge for the next half mile quieted them down a bit, but the pounding descent to the 4-mi marker made things worse. I backed off the pace a bit (to about 8:15), then a bit more (to 8:45), hoping for some relief. Cursing quite audibly, I slowed to a walk at the aid station at mile 5, guzzled, splashed, then started up again. The climb in the last half mile did not go well. Halfway up I realized that my shuffling was no faster than the guy walking next to me, so I walked for a few paces before self-recrimination got me going again. My split for that final mile was about 10:00. Thankfully I did not stumble while coming down the finish chute, and even managed to strike a pose that, at the time, seemed pretty cool.

Jesse Thomas does it better:

Overall, I ended up 20th in my age group, in the top third or so. I had been eyeballing the 2:30:00 mark, something I've come very close two in my other two Olympic distance races. But this was a hilly course, and it got to be pretty hot (this was a month ago, remember, back when it was blazing hot every day, instead of raining every day), so I abandoned that goal time long before going down to the start.

Still, my performance on the run was personally disappointing. I've put in a lot of miles since last season, and can sustain faster paces for longer than ever before. To have the run fall apart like that, even allowing for the heat, makes me wonder what I still need to do. (The fact that I lost my sunglasses in the middle portion of the run didn't improve my outlook.) With a month to go until my next race, I resolved to just keep working at it, get used to the heat, experiment with nutrition (esp. electrolytes), and have another go. On the whole, I did have a good time. Rev3 put on a fine event. I had a good performance in 2 out of 3 disciplines. I now have my sights on returning next year to see if I can do better.

Rev3 Quassy June 1: Hilary's Race Report

We picked this race for a couple of reasons: we'd heard great things from our tri friends about the Rev3 races in general, and this particular one takes place very close to my parents' house, providing a very convenient base of operations. After several years of sprint-distance triathlons, both Alex and I stepped up to do our first Olympic-distance races last year and will be doing several more this year.

Prep
We headed down to my parents' on Friday afternoon, in time to get in a short practice swim and pick up our race packets at the amusement park. A bunch of fellow Capital Multisporters joined us in using Woodbury as a home base, and we had a jolly pasta party on Friday night. On race day we were up bright and early and my dad dropped us off at the park so that we didn't have to deal with parking. We'd left our bikes in transition on Friday night, as required (big floodlights and security overnight for the several million dollars worth of tri bikes!) and I was happy to find that we had plenty of space in transition to set up our gear and our places were even marked with name tags. The water was beautiful and we went for a quick warm-up swim as the early waves started.

Swim: 1500 meters, 31:06, 27/55 in age group
The water was gorgeous, in the high 60s, and felt perfect with a wetsuit . I positioned myself toward the back of my wave, as usual, and was really pleased that the churning and occasional knocking-about of the start didn't
faze me. I set out at my slow-and-steady pace and tried to sight often enough to stay on course. Then suddenly around the second buoy, two-tenths of a mile in, I started to feel uncomfortable. I didn't get whacked by anyone or inhale water or anything, and it wasn't that I felt physically tired or out of breath. Panic attack is too dramatic, but whatever it was, I pulled up and breast-stroked for a little bit (probably 30 seconds or so though it felt longer) and then managed to talk my head back into the game. The entire rest of the swim was totally fine! The middle leg was a bit difficult because it was head-on into the sun, which made sighting tough, but except for one instance where a friendly paddle boarder headed me off to set me straight, it was uneventful. I was generally pleased when I hit the shore and headed into transition.

Bike: 24.8 miles, 1:24:29, 5/55 in age groupThe Quassy bike is notoriously difficult and hilly. I'd prepared well by riding the course several times on trips home to visit my folks, and by doing some very hilly training rides in the Concord area, and I felt ready for a strong bike leg. And that's exactly what I got! The Rev3 mechanic made a couple of quick fixes the night before, including sorting out a shifting problem, and my bike handled beautifully. I was able to drink a whole bottle of raspberry Skratch and even ate a couple pieces of Picky Bar (which I never want to do when racing). I felt strong on the hills and passed a lot of people, moving way up in my age group standings. I saw a few teammates en route, which was fun, and even the final long hill didn't seem so bad. Here's the gorgeous view we were treated to at the top of that final hill:

My bike leg was 10 minutes faster than my fastest training ride, and I was pretty sure I'd left enough in the tank for the run, as well. The only thing I'd change for the next race is to remember to re-set my Garmin before the race starts so I'm not trying to clear it on the fly! Very silly.

Run: 10K/6.2 miles, 54:53, 17/55 in age groupThe run course is also very hilly, and I'd developed a good Concord approximation course and ran it several times to get ready. The first couple of miles are mostly flat and slightly downhill, and the plan was just to settle in. My legs felt ok, though a little rubbery, which is normal coming off the bike. Though I didn't
feel like I was going fast, my watch told me I was around 8:00 pace. A little faster than planned, but felt good so decided to go with it. I made a quick pit stop at the Mile 2 portapotty and then headed into the hilly section. It was a hot day and I wasn't exactly charging up the hills, but I was moving steadily and passing a lot of people, which added to my energy. I was chasing someone in my age group who had passed me and was determined not to let her get away. We ran side by side on the ridge crest, down a steep hill, and toward the mile 5 water stop. 

I was tired but felt like I was running pretty well, and knowing that Brynna was waiting to cross the finish line with me, spared a few moments thought to what I would do if this other girl and I were racing for the finish. Would I stop in the chute to run with Brynna? I decided that I would. I'm really competitive, but it's not like I was gunning for the age group podium or some kind of championship qualifier. But...it would still be better to beat this girl, and when she slowed for the water station, I kept on going. The nasty (and deceptively steep) hill in the last half mile was painful, but I kept telling myself that it would all be over in just a few minutes, and coach Steve yodeling from the bridge above provided a lift as well! Then it was back onto 64 and then the blessed turn into the park, where Alex and B were waiting to run across the mat with me. 

What a wonderful way to finish! I think that the icy cold, soaking wet towel thrown across my shoulders at the line may be the best thing I've ever felt.

Finish 2:54:54, 11/55 in age groupOverall, I was very pleased with this first race of the season. The bike was the most fun and successful, but I also had a reasonably strong run and am making some gains on the swim as well. It's rewarding to see all of the off-season training paying off.

Training Camp

The sign is no joke: it is located just past a turnoff that is part of the running course for Ironman Lake Placid. It is also about 1/4 mile from where Hilary and I spent last weekend, at a training camp. Hilary and I are not, not, racing IMLP this year, and have no particular desire to do it any other year. But we know people who are, and Hilary's coach was organizing a training weekend for them and invited us along. This is what counts as a fun weekend away for us these days: leave B with the grandparents, then go kick our butts for a few days of hard exercise.

But there are fun things about training camp, too, other than putting in some serious time. Eating, for one: when you are burning 500-1000 cal/hr for a couple hours straight, you have license to eat and snack basically whatever you want. Behold the kitchen table of the rental house:

The other nice thing about training camp: hanging out with a bunch of like-minded athletes who actually do enjoy getting out there and working hard. Especially on the group rides, when you are cycling together, it's nice to chat (when you can) while watching the awesome scenery glide by. Then, when you all regroup at the end of the day for a big meal, you can commiserate and trade war stories of this and that race.

Thursday
Not technically part of the training camp, it was a part of the whole experience. We ran in the annual Rock-n-Race 5K, which starts and ends at the statehouse, and circles close to our neighborhood. We've run this race before, and keep aiming to outdo ourselves. I was aiming to break 20:00 this year. I didn't quite hit that mark, but I did shave about 30 seconds off last year's time. It was about a second off my PR. Hilary, likewise, made a good improvement over last year's time, but didn't quite hit her goal. Ah well, although we've been doing lots of training, we haven't exactly been training for a race like this - not enough speed work, too much other stuff (ya know, like swimming and biking).

After what seemed like an awfully long time to get cleaned up, finish packing, and say goodbye to B, Hilary and I hit the road around 8:30. It's about 4-1/2 hours to Lake Placid, so it made for quite a late drive. We had some run-ins with the locals in Vermont. Along the way, we almost ran into: one deer crossing the road, two cows sleeping in a ditch alongside a dirt road we got lost on, and one moose ambling up the same pass in the Green Mountains we happened to be on. There was also much confusion trying to get through Middlebury and onto the correct road to take us to the crazy sigmoid bridge that crosses Lake Champlain. I've got enough familiarity with the Lake Placid area that we were able to find the rental house easily enough once we arrived, and promptly crashed into the bunks around 1:30 am

Friday
Hilary and I had every intention of sleeping in, then going for a long bike ride on our own. But the rest of the group roused us from bed around 7:30 with their own preparations, so we got our act together and headed out with them. The Ironman course does two, 56-mile loops from the middle of town, past the ski jumps, bomb down a long descent into Keene, head north towards Jay and Upper Jay, west towards Whiteface Mountain, and then south through a gorge and back into town.

Got it? Let's ride!

Aside from one technical mishap (our fastest rider had a chain break in the first mile. he drove into town, got it replaced, and caught up to us by mile 40), the ride was a great. Hilary and I hadn't ever done more than 40 miles before this. It was a nice confidence boost to know that we could bike the full half-iron distance in a reasonable time with a strong group. We didn't bike the whole thing flat out: although our moving time was a touch over three hours, we were gone for nearly four, stopping at major intersections to refuel and regroup. There were plenty of stretches where I felt really good keeping a 20+ mph pace. Drafting behind some of the other riders certainly helped (something not allowed in races), but I took the lead in places, too.

And all that before lunch! Hilary and I took the afternoon off, while many of the others - those training for an actual Ironman - went off for a second loop. I made guacamole late in the afternoon, followed by black bean enchiladas with salsa verde as our contribution to dinner. There were no leftovers.

Here's the aftermath of the day's adventures:

Clothes drying

More clothes drying, plus the view off the back porch: north towards Whiteface.

Oh look, $10,000 worth of bicycles

And what is this? Another $10,000 worth of bicycles.

Saturday
We were up again around 7:30, but at least this time we'd gotten something like nine hours' sleep. Many folks today were going out for long trail runs/hikes. For some reason this hadn't occurred to me: although Hilary and I love hiking, and I'm familiar with the Adirondacks, somehow I didn't think to bring appropriate equipment for that kind of outing. It was just as well - the two groups were looking at 15 or 20 miles, with many thousands of feet of elevation involved. Instead, Hilary and I took a long run along River Road, which forms part of the Ironman run course (which is also a two-loop affair). Hilary had one pace in mind, which I gamely followed for a few miles, then thought it would be great to step it up a bit. I figured I would run a little ways past the turnaround, then double back and catch up to Hilary. Great idea, except I made a simple math error. If I wanted to give Hilary a 2-minute head start (which, at a 1:00/mi faster pace, I could make up in two miles), I should run on for about one minute before turning around, not two. Actually, feeling bold and brash, I did 2:30. I did eventually catch her, but only in the final mile of the run. I had some help, too: Hilary got waylaid by a golden retriever that had run off and needed escorting back to its house.

A 9-mile run seems like a solid way to start the day. What could be better after such an excursion than a nice refreshing swim? Although there is an actual Lake Placid just north of town, the body of water within the town itself is Mirror Lake. That is where they do the swim portion of the Ironman. They even have the course buoys set up for those crazies that want to train. Hilary and I are such crazies - sort of. Given that it's only mid-May, and we're in northern NY, we knew this would be a cold swim. The water temperature was 55-60, about as cold as I can tolerate with my wetsuit. It's not so bad after the first five minutes - once your feet stop aching. Yes, there's also that difficult time when the water is tricking into the suit down your back. Eventually you have to put your face in, and that's kinda tough, too.

Alright, I'll admit: it was freakin' cold!

At the outset, Hilary and I figured we'd swim down to the end of the course and back - 1.2 miles, 35-40 minutes. But plan and execution are different things. We'd strike out, swim maybe 50-100 yards, then pull up for 30 seconds to make sure the other was still doing OK, then go on a bit further. There was an element of chicken involved: however far out you go, you have to swim just as far to get back. In the end, I don't think we even made it halfway before packing it in. Our first race of the season is in two weeks, though hopefully not so cold. We'll need some more open water practice before then.

After cleaning up and having lunch, we came back into town to... go to the movies. This is supposed to be a vacation, right? We saw the new Star Trek and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. By the way: the small Palace Theater on main street (and other north country community movie theaters) is trying desperately to raise enough money to buy a digital projector. In the next few months, the major studios are going to stop making actual 35-mm prints of new films, and instead go all-digital. If you feel like helping them out, go here.

We chipped in to the dinner effort again that night: roasted sweet potato salad with black beans and avocado. There were no leftovers.

Sunday
Up again bright and early. Hilary and I had carefully planned backwards from our 1:00 pm check-out time, and set out for a bike-run workout close to the Olympic distance we've been training for. From a parking area near Upper Jay we headed towards Wilmington along a hilly Springfield Road. We then continued heading north from Wilmington on Haselton road, which used to be a major out-and-back portion of the Ironman bike course. They chopped all but a mile of it a couple of years ago. Too bad: it is a lovely stretch. I could feel the last few days in my legs: I had decent speed on the flats, but no power to climb the hills.

We then turned around and headed back to the car - about 27 miles all told. At the car we made a quick transition to a 4-mile run along rt 9N. We would have done 6 miles (a 10k run is part of the Olympic distance), but just didn't have time. Back at the house we did a quick shower, change, and pack. Others trickled in from their own workouts and did the same. We left a bit after 1:00, heading south towards Brattleboro, where we'd meet Hilary's parents for dinner and a Brynna exchange.

Monday
REST.

Race Recon

This was, apparently, a big weekend in the world of triathlon. As we were driving down to CT friday night, Hilary noticed that Ironman Taiwan was happening on Saturday - at that moment, actually. Saturday there were two major races going on: the Wildflower Long Course (70.3 miles, a half-iron distance) in sunny california, and the US Pro 70.3 Championships at St. George, Utah. We weren't there for either, but followed them with some interest. We've been following the exploits of pro triathlete Jesse Thomas for a while. Picky Bars, the race nutrition that Thomas and his pro-runner wife, Lauren Fleshman, produce, are Hilary's power-up of choice these days. In Utah, Amber Ferreira, a pro triathlete we know from Concord, had a pretty good day against a tough course and packed field.

Hilary and I are getting psyched for our first tri of the season coming up in less than a month: Rev3 Quassy. We'll be doing the Olympic on Saturday, then spectate the half-iron the following day. We'll be bringing down a sizable contingent of our Capital Multisport teammates, too. The race happens to be near to Hilary's hometown, so it was easy to stay with her folks - who entertain B much better than we do these days - and scope out the bike and run courses. Hilary had already done this about a month ago, and was a bit discouraged by the hilly bike course, solo, on her road bike, on a day of crummy weather. This weekend, under clear skies, warm sun, on her super awesome tri bike, and already knowing the course, it was much better.

Saturday we hit the 10-k course. It has two serious climbs in the middle, followed by one quad-killing downhill, and one final climb to the finish, set along well-shaded residential streets. There were lots of people out and about scoping out the courses, too, though I suspect more of them are doing the half-iron. Neither Hilary nor I pushed it, but mostly enjoyed ourselves. Hilary's got a training schedule she's sticking to, which did not include a fast run that day. I had done a hard and fast five miles Friday before we left, and was feeling it in my legs. The ice cream for dessert that night was well earned.

Sunday was the main event: following the 25-mile bike course, then immediately running the 10-k again. (Training one discipline right after the other, like a bike-run combo, is called a "brick".) Again it was gorgeous weather, and with Hilary's familiarity with the course, we made pretty good time. Again, we weren't trying to race the course, just scope it out at a decent pace. We only made one wrong turn, which tacked on an extra 2.5 miles and a small climb. You can't go anywhere in this part of CT without going up and down hills. Overall the course has some 1800 feet of climbing - something we've been trying to emphasize in our training over the last month or so. It feels good knowing what to expect, or at least knowing you won't be surprised and daunted by the hills when you come to them. We both felt really good going into the run, and managed to push our respective paces even up the climbs. More ice cream tonight.

On the whole, we are feeling pretty good about this race coming up. It should be a good time with family and teammates, and we should be able to perform well. This is not to say that either of us are aiming for the podium. To be frank: we just aren't at that level. The top finishers in our age groups will probably be 10-15 minutes ahead. That's OK, we're just looking forward to a fun weekend.

Pain Cave

In Winter, days of cold darkness can be squandered in somnambulance, waiting for warmth and light to return. For the triathlete, winter is a fine time to put in some serious training time. If the cold and darkness has you holed up indoors, may as well spend a little effort warming yourself. If it's dark outside, then even the basement, poorly light by a buzzing fluorescent tube, can become a sanctuary. This is the Pain Cave.

That basement may the coldest place in the whole house, but it is still warmer than it is outside. The lowered temperature means you can work it that much harder without overdoing it. Standing there in just your bike shorts, facing off against yourself in a mental struggle just to mount that bike again, you might shiver just a bit. But five minutes after clipping your shoes into the pedals you will feel warm from head to toe. In ten minutes the first drop of sweat will collect on your face. Fifteen minutes in you'll see beads of sweat building up on your shoulders. By the half-hour mark you'll be glad of the towel draped over the handlebars, the contacts you put on instead of glasses. The whir of the trainer is loud; the speakers turned up louder to get above it. Inside your own head, though, you will still easily hear the quick beat of your own heart and the heavy whoosh of your breathing. A quick click and accompanying shunck announces you've shifted up another gear. The rest of the house will not hear any of it: you are in your Pain Cave.

*   *   *

OK. Perhaps it's not always that intense. But sometimes it is, which can in fact bring you back the next time. It is true that we'd much rather be outside swimming, biking, and running. Running we can usually still pull off unless it's down into the single digits. Biking is largely infeasible because of the scant daylight and the fact that a self-generated 18 mph wind makes things that much colder. Swimming outdoors it right out, even if you could find an open lead of water. So Hilary or I, sometimes both in the same night, make a visit to the basement, where among the piled storage boxes, washing machine, and cluttered workbenches is our bike trainer. Here's a shot from just the other night:

It's a good way to catch up on reading or the Netflix queue.

Counterpoint

As a fine counterpoint to my previous post, here is a NYTimes article, on the eve of the New York City Marathon and its 50,000 competitors, about the awful realities of race-day photos.

When caught in mid-stride, most athletes do not look awesome. They look haggard, in pain, with jiggly rippling muscle and fat. You think you are going fast? One ill-timed photo will reveal a short stride, all heel-strike, no different than crude power walking. Think your super-aerodynamic tri bike with full carbon race wheels lets you cut through the air like a knife? Well, your bike might, but the photographer can find the angle and moment that makes you look like an uncoordinated, slack-jawed goof on two wheels with the seatpost shoved way to high up your arse.

The lens is often not kind.

 
A candid shot, taken by a coworker, mid-stretch after Lobsterman. Oh, and I was waiting for a port-a-potty to open up.

 
Water exit from our first ever triathlon. It did not go so well for Hilary, true, but the gasping for breath look is not entirely justified.

Tri pic

Sometimes the line between self-improvement and narcissism can blur a bit. I will admit that triathlon can be an exercise in vanity. My putting in all those miles, hours, laps, and races isn't curing disease, ending world hunger, or stopping global climate change. I'm doing it to stay fit, to stay sane: to challenge myself and see just what I'm capable of.

Purchasing overpriced professional pictures of yourself from race day just bolsters my point. But, hey, if you are going through all that pain and suffering in the name of challenging yourself, you may as well look good doing it:

USAT Nationals - Race Report

So I raced in the USAT Olympic-distance national championships two weeks back. Strangely enough, this was my first time racing at this distance, roughly twice the typical sprint-distance tri I usually do. I knew a few things about it going in:

1. On paper, I should finish within 2:45:00.
2. If things went well for me that day, I'd finish at 2:30:00.
3. Any finish would automatically be a personal record, since I've never raced this distance before.
4. Even the awesome-for-me time (2) would put me in the bottom quarter of the people in my age group.

This was OK with me. I went because it was an awesome race to compete in and a good way to test myself at the longer distance.
 
I cut work early on Friday to drive up to Burlington. This I needed to do so that I could pick up my race packet by 6 pm, then tag my bike and check it into the transition area by 7 pm. With Hilary tied up until late afternoon, the deadlines meant that she could not be with me for this trip. So, uncharacteristically, I was flying solo for this adventure.
 
I managed the Friday afternoon tasks, but without much time to spare. Instead of double-checking the pre-race instructions, I assumed race packet pickup would be at the race venue / transition area (Waterfront Park). When I arrived there, I was reminded it was at the Sheraton conference center on the other side of town. I ran back to the car and proceeded to seethe my way through downtown Burlington Friday evening rush hour, covering the 3 miles in a whopping 45 minutes. I should have biked!
 
I got my swag bag of race materials around 5:20 and paused to rummage through it. The numbers! Holy shit the numbers! From the pre-race materials, I knew to expect them, but the total ways they wanted to identify us was bordering on ridiculous:

• A set of four temporary tattoos - one for each arm and leg
• A pair of stickers to apply to your swim cap
• Three stickers to apply to your helmet (left, right, center)
• One sticker to apply to the seat post of your bike
• A fold-over, double-sided sticker to apply to your jersey or race belt
• An extra tag for your (checked) transition bag
• A sticker to give to your official "support team", whatever that means for this race

The set of stickers took up a whole 11x17 sheet of sticky-backed Tyvek. The tattoos each measured 1.5" x 8". Why were they so keen on being able to identify you? Probably to make it easier for the race officials to identify you and ding you with a penalty. I suppose it would also make it possible for in-race tracking and commentary - just like the Olympics. Not that anyone would be keeping close tabs on me. Tagging the bike and transition bag also make it very difficult for someone else to walk off with your gear. When you consider most of the athletes' bikes for this even cost between $2,000 - $12,000, it's easy to see why that last precaution might be necessary.
 
I took a more-roundabout-but-faster way back to the race venue, applied the requisite sticker to my bike, and set it in its appointed place on the rack well before the 7 pm deadline.
 

Good night, trusty steed!
 

With that worry relieved, I took a stroll around the transition area to get the lay of the land. This is the view into transition from the swim. I stood here for a while, staring across the 2000 or so bikes racked up, and tried to establish some landmarks by which I would find my bike 14 hours from now. I even did a dry run - jogging from the boat launch into transition to my bike.
 

 

By this point the day was waning, things were quieting down, and the sun was peaking from behind storm clouds. Lake Champlain, and the Adirondacks beyond, looked mighty pleasant.
 

This is the start of the run leaving from transition. In the first 0.2 mile, there is an elevation gain of about 75 feet, for an average grade of 6-7%. Not much when taken on its own, but coming almost two hours into a hard race, with legs all mushy from biking, this was going to be tough. Unlike my poor showing at the Hopkins Vineyard Tri some weeks back, I vowed to myself not to walk during this race, especially here.
 

Dare to dream!
 
Before sundown, I decided I had better go make camp. Camp? you ask. Yes, camp. Because I entered this race very late (just a month ago), and the 3600 competitors invading Burlignton (pop. 42,000) for the weekend (the sprint-distance finals were Sunday), there was not a hotel room to be had for miles and miles. Some places suggested I try Montpelier or Plattsburg - an hour away! Taking the easier and much cheaper route, I ended up at a campground about 15 minutes away. After all, all I really needed was a place to sleep Friday night, then shower on Saturday after the race.
 

For $30/night, this was pretty easy. On the phone in the weeks before, I was assured that the place had no need to take reservations for tent sites, because there was so much room. I arrived late Friday and, indeed, was told there was plenty of room. Go set up anywhere back there, they said.
 

OK, perhaps I took them a bit too literally. Just as I was headed off for a shower, a couple of camp staff making the rounds in a gator shined their headlights on my site and began berating me. Somewhere around here was the (thoroughly unmarked) property line, and I was on the wrong side of it. So, putting my many experiences of setting up by headlamp to use, I moved my encampment closer to the road under their stern gaze. A quick bite or some rice and beans I'd made beforehand followed, then a relatively early bedtime. I set three alarms, just to be sure. Saturday morning was a textbook example of hurry up and wait. Awake at 5:30 to get dressed and drive back to Burlington. Park the car downtown and be in transition by 6:30. Finish setting up my transition area by 7:15. Clear out from transition for the race to start at 7:30. Unlike an Ironman, however, the race was not a mass start. Instead, as is more typical of triathlons, the start was broken up into many waves, divided by age group, and released on intervals of several minutes. This meant that I, in wave 12 with the other male 30-34s, didn't start the race until about 8:50, nearly an hour and a half after the first wave! My best guess for the lengthy time between waves was to make sure that folks were spread well out on the course. There are penalties in most triathlons for being too close on the bike (drafting), for instance. If the starts are too close together, avoiding a drafting penalty becomes difficult.
 
What did I do for that 80 minutes? I watched the first wave's swim from start to finish, and had ample opportunity to see how the 10-knot wind was kicking up some chop. Out beyond the breakwater there were whitecaps. The 1.5-k swim course itself was relatively sheltered, but there was still some swells and currents to deal with. I saw many swimmers get pushed well off course in the final quarter.
 
The swim itself was in Burlington harbor, where the ferries come and go. As such, there isn't a beach to speak of. We had an in-the-water start, meaning everyone in each wave leapt off from a dock and tread water in the final minutes before sent off. Nearly a mile later we would charge back out of the water using a boat launch.
 
The swim is one area where I can actually hold my own, even at this level of competition. In a typical sprint distance, the swim is just a splash - finished in less than 10 minutes. The olympic distance is 1500 meters, nearly a mile, taking 20-30 minutes. That still makes it a relatively small component in a 2-hour+ race, but it played to my strengths. The wave action made things interesting at times, and the thrashing about at the start is always kind of frantic. But I managed to overtake quite a few from the wave ahead of us, and exited the water in the front half of my age group.
 
I found my bike in transition without any difficulty. Wetsuit off, sunglasses on, helmet on, socks on, shoes on, grab bike and run. I had a fairly speedy transition, when measured against my peers, but I had no way of knowing that at the time. I hopped on my bike at the mounting line, thanked myself for remembering to leave it in low gear, and charged off for the next leg: 25 miles of rolling hills in the Vermont countryside.
 
Less than 100 feet into the bike, however, I looked down at my bike computer, which I used to measure my speed and distance. Crap! It was gone! Although the mounting bracket itself was still quite secure, the detachable computer itself had popped off somewhere between the bike rack and here. Without it, I would only have my body and the speed of folks around me to gauge how well I was doing. Although I had had a good look at the course map the night before, I didn't know it to such detail that I could reliably gauge mileage as I went along. Ah well, unlike so many triathletes sporting GPS watches the size of muffins, I don't train and race by numbers on a screen. Perhaps I would go faster if I did, but I just can't bring myself to be that regimented.
 
There is not much to say about the ensuing hour-fifteen I spent in the saddle. I passed some people, but got passed by others. You could always tell when some ringer was coming up behind: the sound of a carbon-fiber race bike with race wheels is pretty unmistakable.
 
Out on the bike course, I tried to down fluid and fuel. Race nutrition is something I haven't paid much attention to until this season. For a 60-90 minute sprint-distance race, it really, truly isn't necessary to do anything other than down some water. Gu, powerbars, gatorade and all the rest are of little consequence in so short a distance, provided you start of fed and hydrated. For this longer race it makes a difference: to keep up your strength for 2+ hours you do need to consume something, and wash it down with copious fluids. From my training, I know that I can lose 1-2 L in sweat per hour of hard work. It isn't necessary to replace that 1:1 during a race - you can run a deficit of 1-2 L before things start going south - but you need to do something. So I slurped down water out on the bike course. It would have been gatorade, but I forgot the powder back at the campsite. I also forced down a few Shot Bloks, which despite their funky spelling are large and glorified gummy-chews.
 
Biking done, I racked my bike, slipped on my shoes, replaced bike helmet for ballcap, and rushed out for the 10-k run. The transition from biking to running is always awkward for the legs - things just don't seem to work right for a while. But I didn't have a while: immediately outside of transition the hill I scoped out yesterday started. I knew to expect it, and tired though I was I resolved to run up it. Along the way I passed a dozen or so walkers and was, in turn, passed by no one. One of those I passed was a 76-year old who was probably into his fourth (fifth?) hour of the race. That I should be so lucky one day!
 
Once that initial hill was passed, the rest of the run course is a long, relatively flat, narrow loop. The second half is on a bike path down by the shore, which was mercifully shaded. I struggled for the whole of the run. I am not a runner by any stretch: I don't have the build, nor the passion, to be able to crank out 6-minute miles, which is what is required to be competitive at this level. Instead, I aimed for an average pace of 8:00/mile. Out on the course, however, I didn't have any good way of knowing how well I was or wasn't doing. As I said, I don't train or race with a lot of electronics. I could tell from how my body felt and from my cadence that I was working, but I was also fatiguing, trying to avoid having my quads seize up, and getting passed left and right.
 
Although the experience of the race was vivid in the moment, the recollection is vague and hazy. The miles and the minutes passed. I kept a fairly steady pace, but it was tough. Some racers who had already finished were filtering back up along the run course, cheering folks through the final mile, 1/2 mile, 1/4 mile. At that point you break out of the woods and into Waterfront Park. You can see the finish arch; hear the roar of the crowd. I summoned a bit left for the red-carpeted finish chute, crossed the line, then careened off to one side to double over and fight off dry-heaves. OK, well, I suppose I did leave it all out there. A helpful volunteer came over to remove the timing chip from my ankle. This is something I usually do myself, but in the moment could quite manage to get down that far. Another volunteer was handing out washcloths soaked in ice water. I glanced up at the clock and saw it approaching the four-hour mark. That was elapsed clock time. Subtracting some 80 minutes from it gave me a sense of my own race time... 2:40. Whoa, could that really be?
 
I was not until nearly an hour later, after I had collected myself a bit, that I got a more precise answer from the results postings: 2:31:30. I had very nearly hit my "I'm having a really good day" goal time. A good day, indeed! Although an excellent time for me, it was still in the bottom third of all competitors, and in the bottom 20% for my age group. No matter, I was pleased.
 
The time after the race is finished is always difficult. You want to rest, maybe eat, but usually there is a lot still to be done. In my case, the list was longer than usual, and I had only myself to do it all. I collected my things and headed out from transition. Along the way I stopped by lost and found where, wonder of wonders, I retrieved my lost bike computer. Many thanks to the anonymous volunteer who found it. It's still a bummer I didn't have it during the race, but nice to not have to replace it. I plodded up the hill, mixing with the outgoing race traffic, to the parking garage, racked the bike, loaded the car, changed my shirt and shoes, and eased my way out of the city and back to the campground. After creaking my stiff legs out of the car, I struck camp and packed up, then took a much-deserved shower. On my way out of town I stopped for some well-earned snacks at a gas station.
 
Rather than heading directly back to Concord, I took numerous side roads to a friend's blueberry farm. Brynna, Hilary, and her folks met me there. We picked blueberries, then stayed for dinner. Hilary took pity on meand drove me the 1-1/2 back to Concord.
 
Thankfully that was just Saturday, and I could have a nice lie-in the next morning.

USAT Nationals - Race Report

The full report will come later. For now I'll just say that I competed on Saturday, had a great race, and had an excellent time (for myself). More to follow when my legs can work again.

Going to Nationals

I did very well at the King Pine Tri this past June. It is partly due to my increased training this year and zippy new bike, and partly due to who showed up that day. No matter, I did well enough to qualify for the USAT National Championships happening this coming weekend in Burlington VT. If it were on the other side of the country, and not just a 3-hr drive, I probably would not have bothered. But being so close, and considering how unlikely I am to be in this position again anytime soon, I have taken the plunge, plunked down a whopper of an entry fee ($150!), and will be racing this Saturday.

Sunday is when they hold the Sprint-distance competition, which is my usual distance. Saturday is the international (a.k.a., Olympic) distance, which I have yet to do in competition. How does finishing well in a sprint distance qualify me for the international? I don't know. I don't really care, either. I have been gearing up for an international-distance race this season, and am genuinely looking forward to it.

To say that I am looking forward to a 1-mile swim, 25-mile bike, and 10-k run may put my sanity into question, but I'll be good company with the 1000+ others who will be there. Based on my recent training, I know I can do the distance. On paper, I estimate this will take me around 2:30:00 - 2:45:00. While that sounds impressive, and any finish will automatically be a personal best, it actually will put me in the bottom half, and possible the bottom quarter, of my age group. For comparison, the Olympic men's triathlon even, just last week, was completed in a well under two hours.

Really, I am OK with how poor (relatively) my performance will be. I am blessed with neither the natural ability nor the abundant training time nor the deeeeeep pockets that would be necessary to really be competitive at this level. My goal is to finish, and finish in a time and manner that I can respect. In other words: racing for myself, rather than competing.

Because I qualified late, and got off the wait list just two weeks ago, there is not a single hotel room anywhere in the vicinity for me to use. I have heard some competitors are shacking up in Plattsburg, NY, clear on the other side of Lake Champlain! There are, however, campgrounds nearby, which are a whole lot cheaper. Really, all I need is a comfortable place to sleep Friday night and a place to shower Saturday afternoon. I am undecided about staying over Saturday night. I won't finish my race until almost noon (first wave starts the swim at 7:30 am; my wave not until nearly 9:00!). Burlington is supposed to be a great town to hang around. The campground option makes staying over pretty easy and inexpensive.

Race Report: Big Green Triathlon

Three weeks ago, I competed in the Big Green Triathlon, and Brynna and Alex and my parents came up Hanover to cheer me on.

This race is a new event this year and made it on to my list as a step-up race to longer distance triathlons. So far, all the races Alex and I have done have been "sprint distance," which is generally the intro length. The swim is usually between 1/3 and 1/2 a mile, the bike 12-14 miles, and the run 3.1 miles (5K). We are planning to do an "international" (also called "Olympic" distance) race later this season: a 1500 meter swim (almost a mile), a 40K bike (about 25 miles), and a 10K run (6.2 miles). This is a big jump, with the swim being a particular concern of mine.

Soooo...the Big Green Triathlon had two things going for it:
1. location in Hanover, where we are always happy to visit
2. intermediate length, between sprint and international: 1000 meter swim, 30K (18 mile) bike, and 8K (5 mile) run

Alex and I went up with a friend from our tri club and tried out the course a few weeks in advance. We realized that the course had two things very much NOT in its favor:
1. "T1" or "transition 1" between the swim and bike involved a more than quarter mile run up a steep gravel hill
2. the run involved a lot of very steep, short, up and downhill segments

So, we headed up to Hanover on the day of the event, which started at the entirely civilized time of 1:30 in the afternoon. I got set up in the transition area and then headed down to the beach.

Part 1: The Swim

I have been working on my swim a LOT over the winter and was focused on staying steady and panic-free. Due to a nasty cold and lingering cough, I was a bit concerned about the breathing part. This made me susceptible to a suggestion about a different breathing pattern that I had read about in a triathlon magazine. It is usually a disaster to change big things like this right before a race, but I tried it out the night before in one of our local ponds, and it worked great, so I went ahead with the new method. And the swim was TERRIFIC! The distance was no problem, and at the halfway mark I felt so good that I actually increased my pace a bit and started passing people, which has NEVER happened to me before.  Oddly enough, it was only in the last hundred yards or so that I started to get a bit panicked, because I'd been working harder than usual so was more tired than usual and was very eager to get to shore!

Interlude 1: The Awful Nasty Run Uphill To The Bikes
It started off well, with Alex and Brynna greeting me on the beach as I put my Tevas on with a big grin, thrilled about my swim.

We will not discuss The Rest, but here is photographic proof that I made it to the transition area at the top of the hill:

Part 2: The Bike

My new bike is AWESOME! Other than the potholes and gravelly section on River Road, it was a fast, enjoyable eighteen miles. I passed some people, felt strong on the hills, and zoomed on the downhills. My quick progress was briefly interrupted by a confused deer on Route 10, who wandered out into the middle of the road and then paused. I slowed drastically, fearing a collision if he (she?) broke the wrong way, and a few seconds later she (he?) trotted off the road in front of me.

Interlude 2: Took off bike helmet. Took off bike shoes. Put on running shoes. Started to run. (T2 is pretty straightforward.)

Part 3: The Wretched Run
Turns out that pushing hard on the swim with my newfound swimming skills, and hard on the bike with my new bike, and having a cold on top of all that, does not lead to a great run. My legs felt like a gangly fawn's at the beginning, and even once I got my feet under me, it didn't feel very good. I creaked my way up the steep hills, and minced my way down the steep hills, and reminded myself that I just needed to do two loops around the pond and it would be over! Even really good runners hated this course--one of my super-fast friends was grumbling about it as she zipped by me like I was standing still.

The Aftermath
I felt WAY more drained than after a sprint tri. It was hours before I felt like I could eat (I made up for it the next day). I had a stripe of sunburn on my back where my jersey and shorts didn't quite come together. (Yes, I put sunscreen on. Didn't work.)

Overall, this was an encouraging step in my triathlon training--I met my goals for the swim and the bike, and the run will come along with health and with more experience running after a long swim/bike.   The race was very well organized, but I'm not sure I will do it again in the future, mainly because of the run course (though the long run in T1 wasn't fabulous either).

Rules of the Road

Training for triathlons means putting in the miles: running down the road, cranking the pedals, and (finally) venturing into the open water. We're careful when we're out there: we wear reflective vests during our many nighttime runs, have blinky lights, usually have a phone on hand, wear helmets, and roadIDs. But, still, accidents can happen. A week ago, while biking to work on a backroad, I took a turn a little close to the inside, and suddenly was off the pavement. On a mountain bike, it'd be recoverable. On a racing bike with 1"-wide smooth tires, sliding off into sand and wet grass, on a downhill slope, you're pretty much just along for the ride. At least until the bike decides to stop, and then it's just you and Isaac Newton. This particular morning, it was up and over the handlebars and onto my back onto someone's lawn. After a few well-chosen curses, I realized that I was more or less unscathed: a little pain where I landed on my back, a hard whack on one forearm, and a tire slightly askew.

As it turns out, the pain where I landed on my back was slightly less than it otherwise would have been, because I'd landed on the hip-pack, which held my wallet, some odds and ends, and my phone. Clearly, my phone got the worst of it:

I have great admiration for Gorilla Glass, but there isn't much that can be done to keep a 1-mm thick piece of glass from being completely shattered by being underneath a 140-lb rider. Not to worry: replacement parts weren't too expensive (about $100), and I already had ample experience in fixing my phone. Still, a somewhat costly mistake to make.

Rock N Race!

The Moose Family participated in the Rock 'N Race this evening: a yearly 5K fundraiser for the cancer center at the hospital.

Alex and I ran it as part of our training, and Brynna walked with some of my friends from work (thanks, Shauna and Tina!). It's quite the event: more than 6000 people, including some really fast ones—this year's winner ran 16 minutes and change.

We don't run 5Ks often (at least not 5Ks without a swim and a bike prior) but we both had goals for this race. Alex wanted to run less than 22 minutes—and ended up doing it in under 21:00! I was aiming for 25 minutes or so, and ended up well below that!

Here we are right afterward:

And then feasting on the nibblies (that's a brownie Brynna is swooning over):

This has been an awful year for cancer in the family and for my patients. We are thinking about you all tonight.

A Springtime Update

Things are proceeding apace here in Concord (a fairly rapid pace, actually).

Brynna becomes taller, chattier, and more sophisticated by the day. She is riding a bike (yes, two wheels, no training wheels), sliding confidently down tall firemen's poles, and is starting to recognize a few written words and even sort of sound out very short words. She is currently VERY curious about planets and outer space and keeps asking why helicopters can just go straight up into the air but airplanes need a runway (I leave these explanations to Alex). We've also been swimming a lot at the Y, and B has progressed to swimming with only one "bubble" on her back, as well as jumping into the water on her own, and (with parental assistance for sinking) diving under the water to retrieve weighted objects from the bottom of the pool. Pink and princesses are IN for that of spring, so apparently my attempts to avoid that part of little girl-dom entirely have not been successful.

Here are a few recent photos:

I haven't written much about work this year, because I spend enough time there (and thinking about being there) that I don't usually have much extra energy for it once home. The quick update: my in-hospital call is OVER, which is delightful! I still have phone calls to take from home, and babies to catch, but it's still quite a milestone. Over the next few months, I will finish up the family medicine part of my training, and move toward full time preventive medicine--a little bit of clinic still, but mostly public health classes and work on my long-term project, which will be on smoking cessation in pregnancy. I'm taking one class up at Dartmouth right now, which means I get to go to the Co-op twice a week and bring home Red Hen ciabatta! In July, I will massively cut back the number of patients I'm responsible for, from about 550 to 100 or 150, and this will come with a big cut back in the amount of paperwork that I have to handle. (Paperwork, as all doctors will tell you, is the bane of our existence. The face-to-face with patients part, I absolutely love.)

Alex and I have also signed up for our first Olympic distance triathlon: 1500 meter swim (just under a mile), 40 K (25 mile) bike, and 10 K (6.2 mile) run. It's in July in Fairlee (yes, we thought this would be a great way to celebrate our wedding anniversary). This is twice the distance of our previous sprint triathlons, so it has us inspired (scared) to train hard! There is lots of swimming, biking, and running going on these days. This is going to be our fourth triathlon season, and it seems like we're in this crazy sport for the long haul, so we've joined the ranks of hard-core triathletes and purchased aero bikes. Here's mine (a Trek):

And Alex's (a Cervelo):

We have NOT purchased funny teardrop-shaped aero helmets, so there is an element of silliness that we are holding in reserve. Nonetheless, the bikes are AWESOME. And I feel like I have to train even harder to be deserving of such a cool set of wheels! Today, I even did some intervals on the track. It's a little sad, because when I get on the track I remember that I used to be able to run pretty fast, and now I'm just galumphing along.

Jasper is doing well. He's shorn for spring, and enjoying romping along as B rides her bike, or warming up/cooling down with us on our training runs. We all went for a hike at Oak Hill this past weekend, which left both Brynna and Jasper happily exhausted, though we had to turn around about a quarter mile short of the fire tower due to the late hour and B's fatigue.

So, that's a little recap of what's been going on. Coming up: a trip to the Cape, a midwestern swing to visit friends in Chicago and Wisconsin, the start of tri season, and then residency graduation at the end of June!