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
time: 2:39:10
swim: 26:19
t1: 3:16
bike: 1:08:01
t2: 2:40
run: 58:56
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.