The Big Kahuna - 2010 ! ! !

September 13, 2010.  I seem to recall that the forecast for Santa Cruz was that it was going to be just perfect.  Hmmm.  Well, it was awefully foggy when I got there at just after 5:00 a.m.  That's ok, as I'm used to the fog burning off.

First things first.  Get set up in transition.  I was pretty psyched as I got a spot right next to the bike exit on the second rack, about mid-way back.  Some people were on racks about 40-50 yards back so I'm in much better shape.  Then, this guy who had the absolutely best spot --outside spot on the first rack next to the exit-- asks me if I want to switch since he feels guilty taking it. Uh, yeah.  Good omen for the day.

Unlike most triathlons, the swim exit is several block away from the transition area.  Having done this race 5 times, I am prepared and leave some water shoes to slip on at the edge of the sand to allow me to run faster to transition.  I make my way to the swim start.

Except for the Tri for Fun races, ALL triathlons start on time.  Period.  Uh -- well, I guess they had some problems getting the buoys in place, perhaps having to do with the 2 sailbots being anchored directly in our path.  After 20-30 minutes, they announce we'll be swimming in between the boats. I make a mental note not to get strangeled by the roaps holding the anchors in place.

The swim.

That water is COLD ! ! !  I swear I got an ice cream "brain freeze" as I was warming up (?).  Fortunately, the water I allowed into my wetsuit warmed up before the actual swim start.  It didn't seem so bad once I reentered the water when the race started.  Another good omen.  The swim was fairly non-contact.  My goal was to finish the 1.2 miles swim in sub-40:00 (2004 = 37:52; 2005 = 39:53; 2007 = 35:26; and 2008 = 38:30)

Time:  37:42 ! ! !  Yeah, baby.  (40th in age group, out of 54)

T1:  Given how far the transition area is, it normally takes a couple minutes just to get there.  My T1 times have ranged from 3:42 - 5:01.

Time:  3:54.  (4th place)

 

Bike:

Even though it was still overcast, I wasn't cold.  So I decided to forego putting on arm warmers.  I figured it would feel nice once the sun comes out.  Uh, what sun.  Went the entire ride and still no sun.  Unbelievable.  But at least it wasn't cold.  So that was ok.

Goal was to definitely break 3:00 and, preferably, finish in the 2:40's.  I just stayed focused the entire time.  Passed tons of people and hardly anyone passed me.  Reached the turnaround at 1:23; Av speed = 20.2 mph ! ! !  Yeah !

Unfortunately, I soon realized that I had a bit of a tailwind on the way north on Highway 1 which soon became a bit of a headwind coming back.  Ugh.

Still - not bad though.  

So here's some kharma. Everyone knows --"no drafting". And here's this guy who passes me and is blatantly drafting. I think I'll be able to reel him in and say something. Just as I'm getting close to him (no, not drafting), I hear psssssss. He gets a flat. Hee hee.

Time: 2:52. Av = 19.5. Not bad for 56 miles. (24th place)

T2: 1:00.8 seconds ! ! !  3rd place (in my AG, about 12th overall).  Smokin'.  And that includes putting the bike away, taking off the helmet, putting on socks and shoes, grabbing my hat and fuel belt.

Run:

Ok, by now I realize I still have a chance to break my PR of 5:19.  I just need to put the hammer down for a mere 13.1 miles.  Surely the sun will be coming out at some point which might make it tough in the heat.  Uh, nope.  No sun.

As soon as I leave transition, there's a little hill and Tom Gardin is waiting for me on his bike at the top.  Tom's riding next to me and he's chatting away and asking me all kinds of questions.  I didn't want to seem rude, but I figured he'd get the message from my gasping for air and only muttering 1-word answers that I'm, you know, in the middle of a "race".  Those IT guys; go figure.

My goal was to average 8:23 per/mi. or better, which would give me a 1:49 half marathon time.
So Tom stays with me for about 4 miles and I am just flying.  Clicking off each mile at 8:04, 7:59, 7:52, 8:16, 8:29, 8:16. 

The toughest part of the run course is near the turnaround (miles 6-7) because you're on a narrow dirt trail.  But I reach the turnaround and am feeling just great.  In the groove.


Click off another 8:22 mile and have only half a mile left on the dirt trail when, all-of-a-sudden, I catch my shoe on a rock and go flying.  One of those things where you know what you've done, seem to have plenty of time to contemplate the fact that you're flying, you know that you're going down and that it's going to hurt when you do.  And then, "thud".  No rolling.  No great slide like going into second base.  Just crash and stop.  A few triathletes stop to see if I'm ok and to offer assistance.  I'm kind of dazed and confused (more than normal).  Hands bloody.  Knees and legs bloody.  I start walking and taking inventory.  All parts seem functional.  Within 250 yards is a water stop and I have them dump water on my hands and legs to clean things off.  Then I take off.  Hey man, this is a race.  And I'm a &%$()!* Ironman.  No reason I can't cry and run at the same time.
Remember that great pace --uh, gone.  9:18, 9:12, 8:42, 9:22, 9:45, and 9:24.  I was diggin' down deep, let me tell you.  Those were some tough miles.
(I'm reminded of the times running on the ridge when I've told others "your legs may be getting tired so make sure you pick your feet up so you don't trip.  Doh.)

Time: 1:57.  (23rd place)  I was averaging 8:11 per/mi. before the fall (which would've given me a 1:47 half. . . and would've given me a PR by over 2:00)  Not bad to break 2:00, all things considered.  


Final time:  5:32.   21st in age group.


Went straight to the med tent and had them clean up the wounds and bandage me up.  Basically felt fine.
Got some most-excellent food, and plenty of it ! ! !  Pretty much been eating ever since.