I started to write up my typical novel-length RR, but it was boing the heck out of me, so I’ll just repeat what I sent to my coach & TRI-DRS
overall place: 351 out of 2388
division place: 34 out of 178
gender place: 310 out of 1437
about a 10 minute PR from the Hudson Valley Tri in 2004
I’m really happy with my bike time. I spanked my new bike three ways; hard, fast and often. I was passing so many people that I just gave up all courtesy and kept banging the hammer. I only got passed by a couple of guys in my AG, and the first one wasn’t until 11+ miles into the ride.
I’m not at all happy with my swim. No excuse except I really screwed up my sighting on the leg coming back into transition. We were swimming into the sun, and I totally missed the last buoy. About 200yd from transition I ran INTO a kayak that was furiously backpaddling to tell me to make a hard RIGHT. I had to swim about 25 yards AWAY from shore to clear the buoy, THEN I went about 25-30 yards beyond the buoy and had to double back. I felt really, really dumb… The misdirection easily cost me 2 minutes.
The run was hot, and very humid. I knew that I burned a lot of matches on the bike (on purpose), but I knew that I had a pretty good position in my AG. I just had to limit the damage. But no matter how much I tried to pick up the pace, the heat and humidity was beating me down. I passed a bunch of folks, but it seemed that everyone who passed me was in my AG. Finally around 3 miles one guy passed me with “49” on his calf, and I said NO MORE. I kept the guy in my sights for the rest of the run. He was running really strong and I was really struggling to keep his pace. He would surge, I would surge and we’d settle back into pace but it was killing me. Finally I decided to let him go a bit at the 5mile aid station and regroup. I jogged easily through the last intersection, and the last shady bit of the course, and I started to pick up my pace.
Just before I entered the last corner I caught sight of my rabbit, and thought for just a moment, “there ain’t no way I’m catching him” Then I spotted a guy who was annoying me along the bike route (30-34 AG) and I got mad. That man was going down. I cleared the corner with and headed into the last .4 mile home stretch, and opened the biggest can of whoop-ass I had in the cupboard.
Within 100 yards I blew by Annoying-Man, and then entered a tunnel of spectators. The crowd started to scream. I knew I was running fast, but had no clue how fast. When I looked up I saw Mr. 49er up ahead, running strong, but not as fast as I was moving, it was going to be a close finish, but I just kept pushing and pushing. Arms pulling, head high, visualize the strings pulling me up and forward; knees pushing forward, heels to my butt, putting everything out there
And I passed him with 20yds to spare, I got scared that he’d catch me so I didn’t even bother to look for him. I kept up the pace right through the finish. As I hit the stop button on my watch, I noticed the pace click from 6:xx to 7:xx. For me, any pace that begins with a 6:xx is a flat out sprint.
My finisher photo will probably show me near death, but clearly ahead of the one guy that I had to beat that day.