The “70.3″ in the title of this race alludes to the fact that the race is 70.3 miles in total length, or exactly half the Length of a full Ironman race (140.6 miles). This “Half Ironman” distance can be a little misleading, as (for me anyway) an Ironman is both considerably more and simultaneously significantly less than the sum of two Half Ironman races. Augusta would prove to be no different.

Pre-Race Routine
Augusta was always meant to be a fun season-ender for me – no real worries. In my brain though it took on this real “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” quality, in that on one hand I decided it would be a really low-key, toss-off kind of race, but this then led me to really want to throw caution to the wind, race it wide open, and not really care if I blew up doing it. This ambivalence allowed me to put off packing until Friday afternoon, at which time I simply threw everything I could think of into bags and then jammed it all into the car willy-nilly. We were off around 6pm in the evening. We cruised out of town through the normal Atlanta Friday evening traffic, ate Chick-fil-a (ugh) out of my lap while driving, and arrived in Augusta at about 9:30pm. We checked into the downtown Ramada, which is nothing to write home about, except that the staff is really, really friendly and we got a nice high-floor corner suite with a good view of the river and downtown business district. Normally we would have probably rather procured lodging at the official race hotel which was a couple of blocks away, but by the time we decided to sign up for the race it was completely booked. Although a little threadbare, the Ramada was in a great location and proved to be a good alternative all-around. We unpacked the car, changed clothes, and walked down the street to meet our friends and fellow racers for a couple of beers at The Rooster’s Beak which has a great beer selection that unfortunately I was not able to sample too broadly due to the upcoming race. Rats.

Up early the next morning, we all headed down the street to The New Moon Cafe for breakfast, where we were fortunate enough to meet Nick Waninger, a young pro with a good bit of experience racing this particular course. Nick proved to be a really fast but still down-to-earth guy, who seems to have a real talent at finishing 6th at Augusta. After a leisurely breakfast, Ken, Todd and I went out for a 30 minute easy spin followed up by a 15 minute run. Afterwards we met the girls and Wes down on the river at the swim start, and paddled around a bit just to get our bearings. I thought the water temp was great, and was actually pleasantly surprised at how clean and clear the water appeared. There was a little river grass (not really seaweed if it is in a river, right?) floating around in clumps, but it was not too bothersome to me. There were a few reports over the previous few weeks of alligator sightings in the river, but I was put on restriction by my wife from even mentioning it. Oh well, a great opportunity to aggravate my friends (especially Molly) gone to waste. After the swim we headed over to athlete check-in to pick up our race packets and timing chips and wander around a rather lackluster expo. From there walked back to the hotel, grabbed our bikes and rode them down to the transition area. The transition area was in a nice, grassy field immediately next to the river and pretty roomy. My designated spot was pretty crappy (down one side and inordinately far from the bike in-and-out), but I did not complain as I have been fairly fortunate in scoring cherry spots more than my fair share of times recently. Molly was kind enough to come pick us all up saving a mile-and-a-quarter walk back to the hotel. Once back, I showered quickly, organized all of my stuff that I would need for the race, and rather than taking a nap, decided I would set up a TCX course using Bike Route Toaster. These are pretty cool, as once loaded up it allows my Garmin 800 bike computer to give me turn-by-turn directions during the race, provide me with distances and projected time to the next waypoint, and (the feature I like most) look-ahead elevation profile. The Augusta course is pretty flat, but this feature is cool in that it allows you to see the terrain that is approaching on the bike. With everything packed and ready to go, we headed down to the lobby to catch up with our friends and then headed down the street for dinner at The Bee’s Knees Tapas Restaurant and Lounge. Here again my ambivalence toward the race reared its head, and I had a pre-dinner martini (Hendrick’s, up, two olives), a wide assortment of tapas, spicy shrimp curry (WHAT?!?!? – you have a race tomorrow!!!) all accompanied by a couple of glasses of wine. Brilliant pre-race fueling strategy, I know, but it really was a pretty good meal! Poor decisions made, we walked back to the hotel and got to sleep relatively early, all things considered.

Event Warm Up
What is it with race morning? No matter if you have to travel an hour-and-a-half to get to the race site or it is across the street from the hotel, you still have to wake up at 4:30am. Ugh, spicy shrimp curry, really? Eat some breakfast (banana, peanut butter, yogurt, orange juice) and get suited. When I was in the water the day before my goggles were fogging up a lot, so I spritzed them with anti-fog spray. Then

Spicy shrimp curry.

Molly was awesome enough to (again) ferry us down to the transition area, so we all met in the hotel lobby at 5:45am for a quick jaunt down to the bikes. We get there just as the sun is coming up, and I go through my pre-race set up: Towel on the ground, running shoes with socks rolled up like cotton and polyester condoms in each one, and visor, sun glasses, gels and salt tablets in a 1 gallon ziplock bag. In front of that goes my bike shoes, helmet, and race number belt. On the bike goes my computer and bento box with extra gels and salt tabs. Then I add my flat kit to the back of my seat and mount two bottles, one on the aerobars and one on the downtube. Finally I calibrate my power meter, and walk through the transition visualizing the in and outs and

Spicy shrimp curry.

Catching up with Wes, Ken, and Todd, we walk over to where the buses are loading to transport us down to the swim start. When we get there a volunteer tells us along with several hundred other racers that there will be no more buses coming and we should just walk the “mile” to the start. We are smart enough to know that it is actually a mile and a quarter as the Cheetos bag floats, but that does not keep us from heading out. So our race will be a 71.55 – no big deal. We get to the swim start about 25 minutes later and

Spicy shrimp curry.

Finding a place to stretch out and relax is pretty easy, so we settle in to wait for about 30 minutes before Wes’ start time. It starts to rain a bit, which just adds to the humidity. Time passes slowly, 15 minutes to go before our waves start, and

Spicy shrimp curry.

The drizzle stops, and suddenly it is our turn – we jump into our wetsuits, and queue up – Todd one wave before Ken and me. Down on the pier and ready to go, I hop into the water immediately after Todd’s wave because I want to get at least a little warmed up, and there are only four minutes between each wave. My plan is to go easy for a couple of hundred yards, but then hammer the swim, so I want to be ready…

Swim Course
The swim course is a 1.25 mile point-to-point downstream swim in the Savannah River, making for one very fast first leg.

Swim
Airhorn start – SKYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK – and off. Wide of the outer buoy, I swim as far out in the river as the kayakers will let us. Easy for about 4 minutes, then begin to push it. There seemed to be a natural drift in the river toward the bank, or maybe I was tending to swim in a clockwise circle due to my recovering right shoulder, but it seemed that I had to sight quite a bit to keep in a straight line. Although I am not a terribly fast swimmer, pride myself on swimming good lines, so this is kinda unusual for me, but it is no big deal. It actually turns out to be good strategically as it allows me understand where I am in relative to others in my wave. I start to labor just a bit, but instead of backing of like I normally unfortunately often do, I instead shook it off and began to try and chase down other swimmers one by one. with about 400 yards to go I catch on to a pretty large group of guys swimming packed close together, and decide to sit on and ride them in to the transition. Out of the water I look at my watch and surprised to see 26:xx. I knew the current would make the swim fast, but I was expecting to see something more in the 28 minute range. Today is shaping up to be a good day.

Except my heart rate monitor was reading 184, which is off the charts for me in the water. Evidently I was really hoofing it to stay on the feet of the pack in front of me!

Out of the water and into transition

Swim Time: 26:11 (1:22 per 100m)

What I would do Differently on the Swim
I think I need to do more fast open water swims. For some reason I can push a little bit harder in the pool, maybe because it is very clear and quantifiable how long of an effort I have to sustain. In open water, you lose your points of reference. Swimming from person to person really broke this race down into manageable bits for me. I am looking forward to try this strategy out on my next race that includes an open water swim.

Transition 1: Swim to Bike
Up the ramp I take off my goggles and swim cap, then my wetsuit top (DeSoto sleeveless Speedvest). Into transition, I make the long run to my bike, skirting around the wetsuit strippers. At the bike, I walk out of my wetsuit bottoms (DeSoto First Wave Farmer John) the Computer on, helmet on, shoes on, race belt on, grab bike, go. Another long run to the bike exit, past the mount line and off. Tough time getting my cleats to engage – the long run through the grass packed a food bit of debris in them – a couple of quick, hard sideways taps on the pedals cleared them well enough, and I cruised up to speed.

T1 Time: 3:33

What I would do Differently in T1
I really have to work on my transitions – I am tired of getting beat here. My spot was particularly bad in this race race, but that is not the real problem. I go too slow and check/recheck everything – after all these years of racing I still forget things. I go back and forth relative to the shoes on the feet versus shoes on the bike. I am comfortable either way, even though I did actually lose a shoe in the last race where I had them already on the bike. If it is a paved run through transition, I would probably have the shoes already mounted up, with a grass/mud/gravel/dirt transition like this one, I would lots rather keep my feet clean and put on the shoes before heading out. Of course then they stand the risk of getting the cleats jammed, so who really knows what the right answer might be…?

Bike Course
The 56 mile bike course is a mostly flat loop through the beautiful countryside outside of downtown. There are a few rolling parts in the middle, but for the most part this is a fast course. While the bike begins and ends in Georgia, the bulk of the ride takes place across the east bank of the Savannah River in South Carolina.

Bike
My plan going into the bike portion of the race was to average about 210~215 watts, but allow heart rate to be a secondary limiter: if it begins to creep up above 170bpm, I am supposed to back off. I head out of transition with a HR of 175, so immediately ease up on the pedals. Within about 5 minutes however, Ken comes blowing by me like a madman. “Crap,” I thought – “I guess it is on!” Of course I had to chase him. So much for getting my heart rate under control.

For the next 20 miles or so I paced off Ken from about 10 bike lengths back. The middle section of the course has a few rolling hills, and Ken backed off a little and we swapped off pacing a few times – he would come by me on the ups, but then let me run out a bit on the downs. About the only really exciting moment was when we were overtaking a rather substantial pack of riders spread across the road on a sharp little uphill. As Ken was passing the group, one of the riders drifted left into him. Ken practically head butted the guy ala Mark Cavendish and pushed him back into the pack – I really am not sure how he did not go down. Years of bench presses, I guess.

Now Ken is a runner, so with about 10 miles or so to go, I figured my only chance was to get a little separation on the bike, so as the course headed back into town and began to flatten out again, I came around him one last time and picked up the pace a notch. With about 2 miles to go my quads started to cramp just a tiny bit, but I just ignored it, hoped i had at least a little bit of separation, and just kept on pushing. Coming around the last corner into transition, Ken rolled up on my left shoulder and we came in side-by-side. Double crap.

Look how pissed this dude is to get passed by my awesomeness

Bike Time: 2:29:35 (22.5mph)
Average Heart Rate: 175bpm (!!!!)

What I would do differently on the Bike
If this was an “A” race, I would have let Ken go and rode my own paces as dictated by my plan. But I had come to Augusta prepared to go hard and maybe blow up, so I was not too worried at this point.

Transition 2: Bike to Run
Into transition, I stayed in my bike shoes and made the long run to my rack. hung the bike, kicked off my shoes, actually sat down on the ground and put on my socks & shoes, grabbed my ziplock stuffed full of goodies, and off. when I turned into the exit chute, there was Ken, right in front of me charging hard out onto the course. I put on my hat and sunglasses, knocked back a gel, grabbed two cups of water, and went after him.

T2 Time: 2:36

What I would do Differently in T2:
Leave my shoes on the bike and run barefooted – the ground was pretty lumpy and tough to run on in bike shoes. Also, I need to get some running shoes that I can run in sockless for the half distance – I love my racing flats, but I just did not want to risk running that far in shoes that have no support.

Run Course
The 13.1 mile run course consists of two loops of a circuit that snakes its way through downtown Augusta. The course turns back on itself numerous times, making for a very spectator friendly race. It is incredibly flat, with no change in elevation to speak of.

Run
out of T2, Ken was really moving – much, much faster than I would normally go right out of transition. I usually like to ease into the run a bit, but I remember thinking “what is the point of staying with him on the bike if you don’t go with him now?”

Then my quads locked, seizing up with cramps.

And just like that, I am walking. Then stopping, and finally squatting down on the side of the road fighting quadricep cramps that feel like knots of steel in my legs. I look up, and Ken is gone, swallowed up by the crowd and motoring around the next corner. The good news about this change in circumstance is that I think to myself “finally! Now I can “run” my own race. I gather myself up, and begin walking again.

Praying to the run gods to end the cramping

Four minutes later, my quads begin to loosen up and I am able to jog a bit. Two more minutes, and I am running along at an 8 minute pace. Not bad, but about 30 seconds per mile slower than I planned. I turn the corner to begin the first of several trips through the downtown business district and suddenly surprised to see Ken squatted down on the side of the street in a carbon-copy performance of the show I had put on just a few moments before. Like the true friend that I am, I slowed down a bit, grab his hand, and offer to run with him. He failed to see the humor in it, and I guess in hindsight it was kind of a dick move, but hey, that is what friends are for, right? From my perspective the only real problem is that it committed me; from here on out I better not have another bad moment because if Ken catches me I would never hear the end of it. So I push right up to the limits of my “tempo” heart rate, not really sure if I will be able to hold it for the next hour-and-a-half.

The aid stations on the run are not particularly evenly spaced, instead they are scattered along the course with anywhere between 3/4 to 2 miles separating each one. At every aid station I grab two sponges and shove them down my jersey, take 1~2 salt tablets, and pound as much water as I can. About 3 miles in I see Jennifer and the rest of the girls, and they tell me Todd is struggling, so I redouble my efforts. At about mile 4 we are on an out-and-back section, so I start looking for him. Soon I see him, but he does not look in too bad of shape to me – and Molly is running along with him, in clear violation of WTC rules. Cheater. I yell at him that I am coming, but only Molly hears me. I hit a split to see how far back I am at the turn around, which I hit exactly 5 minutes later. Awesome, only 10 minutes back, which translates to 6 minutes as his wave started the race 4 minutes earlier than my own. At the turn, there is a much needed aid station, and then soon after another “independent” aid station set up by folks that live in the neighborhood. At this point I really needed the fluids, so I loaded up, despite the fact that accepting outside aid is also a violation of WTC rules. So I am a cheater as well; now Todd and I are even. One more circuit through town and I find myself at the finish line, albeit with one more loop to go.

Finally coming around on the run

While it is a little difficult to run past the finish line, especially when all those folks in the early waves are finishing up, I do like the fact that at least you know the course a little better the second time around. Heart rate in the high 170′s/low 180′s I know I am slowing a bit, but I actually still feel pretty good. With about 4 miles to go, I see the girls again, and this time Molly is with them, along with Wes who had already finished up. Wes had started good thirty minutes ahead of the rest of us, but even so, the fact that he was already finished and out cheering us on was a good sign that he had enjoyed a stellar performance. As I “sped” by them at what had deteriorated to about an 8:30 pace, I asked quickly how Todd was doing, to which Wes mysteriously answered “4:34″ and handed me a can of coke. I dashed off, wondering what the hell he was talking about, tried to take a sip of coke, but for the most part just got it up my nose and all down my neck. Oh well – I tossed the can in the trash and started to look for Todd again on the final out-and-back. (I found out later that wes had finished the race in a blazingly-fast 4:34!). When I finally see Todd again I quickly do the math and surmise that I have only put a few seconds on him since my last check; he evidently really laid it down for the first several miles of the run before he started to fade.

I should mention that I never saw Ken again, but I was constantly terrified that he was going to come around me at any moment. Before rounding the final corner to the finish and with this thought in my head, I actually slowed enough to turn around and take a good look behind me to make sure he was not pacing off of me and setting up for a sprint to the finish. Ken and I have a little history together in that regard, and it is safe to say that I really have it coming to me at some point in our race future. But fortunately for me today is not that day, although I know we all secretly fantasize about a sprint finish against each other! Around the final corner, and now it is my turn to peel off to the finish while everyone else continues on for a final 6.5 mile loop around town. I cruise in with a finish time of about 7 minutes slower than I had hoped, and a whopping 14 minutes slower than I had trained for on the run.

And with THAT my 2011 triathlon season is done!

Run Time: 1:51:53 (8:32 per mile)
Run Split for Loop #1: 53:17 (8:08 per mile)
Run Split for Loop #2: 58:36 (8:56 per mile)

What I would do Differently on the Run
1) Stick to my plan on the bike.
2) This year I am going to try to find some minimalist type shoes that are built for longer-course racing but are more friendly to sockless feet. It would save me a bit of time in transition, and also alleviate the squishy, wet sock problem caused by dumping water over my head while out on the run.

Overall Time: 4:53:48
175/2785 Total Racers
13/234 Age Group

Post Race
I would like to think that I was that much slower than planned because of the 90+ degree heat, but I just don’t think that was entirely the case. Despite the heat, I know I overcooked the bike by a wide margin; I think if I had backed off and kept my HR around 165ish I would have been able to run my splits much more closely to what I had planned. That would have given me a net gain of 6~7 minutes overall. Lesson learned: trust the plan. But it sure was fun to cat-and-mouse with Ken!

Jen and the crew are waiting at the finish (Todd of course is in the medical tent) and I grab some pizza and a beer while we wait for Ken to come in. We then head back to the hotel, where Jennifer has already organized and packed everything up (awesome, thanks Jen!). We grab quick showers, then down the street to grab a bite to eat and watch folks continue to stream in on the course. It begins to rain and we all head down to the chaos of the bike transition to pick up our soaking wet gear. We load up, say our goodbyes quickly in the drizzle (everyone is heading their separate ways) and Jennifer and I make a quick stop at Starbucks before hitting the road for The ATL. On Monday, my quads and hamstrings are killing me, but that is nothing compared to Tuesday.

What a fun year this has been – I am looking forward to the next, especially since Jennifer is back in the game. But first, a few weeks of unstructured down-time from training, which is great because October is shaping up to be one crazy, travel-filled month. Soon enough it will be time to start the off-season strength training though, and I am already kinda looking forward to it.

Finishing time: 11:59:17
Overall Rank: 706 of 2502 starters
Age Group Results: 75 of 326 (34th out of those electing not to wear wetsuits – more on that below)

Slow swim, slower transitions, awesome bike (despite a crash), roadside bike repair, separated shoulder, awesome run, training and nutrition plan worked perfectly, cannot imagine having a better race, but will none the less tempt fate again next year.

Epic Novel Version (unapologetically long)

Pre-Race Routine
IMLP pre-race really started Thursday the week prior with a carb restriction block that lasted about a week. Like most, I spent that week making lists, packing and repacking, and obsessing over race-plan details. For some reason, the thing I decided to obsess over the most was my repair kit – I attribute this obsession from WAY too many hours of reading slowtwitch about IM bike setup, coupled with the year-old decision to race as minimal as possible and live off the course. Monday before race weekend, I dropped my bike off with TriBikeTransport for delivery to Lake Placid later that week. I was a little anxious about that as we have always traveled with our bikes as checked luggage without too much incident. I decided to give TBT a try as they had a pickup location just a couple of blocks from my house at Decatur Bikes, and I really liked the idea of having my bike fully assembled on Friday morning, especially as we were scheduled to get in late, late, late on Thursday night.

We flew into Syracuse mostly because we could get a direct flight, took a little too much time to pick up the rental van, and then had a really nice drive to Lake Placid. On the way there it dawned on me I had made my first logistics mistake: I had packed my wetsuit in my gear bag that was with TBT, which did not open up until 9am in the morning, the same time as the Beginner Triathlete swim meet-up. Oh well, first things first. We arrived at the Mirror Lake Inn around 10:30pm and got unpacked pretty quickly and in bed by midnight. I hardly slept a wink as my mind was going about a million miles an hour – I think it was part excitement to finally be in Lake Placid, but mostly the giant, eponymously named Awake Tea Latte I drank while on the road to help me stay awake.

View from our balcony at the Mirror Lake Inn

On Friday morning we had a short 10 minute walk from the hotel to the TBT setup, which was on the hill overlooking the Speed Skating Oval. It was really awesome to see that big empty transition area waiting for us first thing. The TBT guys were awesome – they let me grab my wetsuit out of my gear bag while they hung on to everything else. Jennifer and I  then hoofed it down to the swim start, where I got there just in time to see a large group of really happy and friendly folks herding together for a collective photo. Figuring it was the BT group, I quickly jumped onto the back row, hoping that I was not instead photo-bombing some other tri group’s photo. Turned out it was the BT gang – and it was really, really great to put faces and real names to folks that have offered encouragement, advice, and laughs throughout the past year. It was really a great way to start race weekend.

Beginner Triathlete Lake Placid Training Group meet-up

Most folks were actually doing a pretty significant swim compare to me; I had scheduled 30 minutes in the water, with only about 10 minutes of actual real swimming. The rest of the time was slated for orientation, scouting sighting markers, and generally just making sure I had the course figured out. While Jennifer went out for her own orientation run around Mirror Lake, I took some time chatting with Kate who also participated in Fred Doucette’s fall/winter training group. It was really great to meet her in person – she told me she was really nervous about the swim, but heck, she absolutely CRUSHED me on race day, so maybe I should have been a little more nervous as well? Way to go Kate! When I finished up splashing around a bit I sat up on the little floating shore-line dock with Brad and we both commented on how great the water felt but how warm we were upon immediately exiting the water. It was at that time I began wondering if wearing a wetsuit was a good idea (for me) – I knew there was no way I was going to go with my full sleeve top. At this point I recognized logistics mistake #2: I had neglected to pack my Desoto Speedtube, which would have been the perfect option for the way the water temp was shaping up.

After the swim we headed over the the high school for package pickup and grabbed my bike, gear and wheel bags and walked back to the hotel. I got changed really quickly, and while Jennifer ran to the store for supplies, I headed out for a 50 minute bike ride. Per Fred’s advice, I rode out on the first part of the course, up the first few little climbs out of town, and down the Keene descent. When I got to the top I ran into the Kunst family again  – I recognized them from their team car with the four matching P2s on the back. I stopped and chatted for a few minutes before heading down the descent – they were getting ready to do the same. It was really good to see it, especially after hearing so much chitter chatter about it over the past year. The pavement on the shoulder was a little sketchy, but for the most part the road itself looked to be in pretty good shape. Not nearly as steep as the North Georgia mountains, much, much wider, and for the most part straight as an arrow. the only turns were broad and sweeping. Easy peasy, except my HR was way jacked up for the easy effort I was putting out.

Jen picked me up at the bottom of the descent and we headed back into town for a late lunch. After a little nap, we headed out to the Show Grounds to catch the tail-end of the show and athletes meeting. Not sorry we missed the food, but the motivational part was a lot of fun, and, well, motivational. The most interesting part of the subsequent athlete briefing was when the swim course director officially announced that there was a good chance of having a non-wetsuit legal swim. I chuckled and immediately thought “well I know what we are going to be discussing on BT for the 24 hours.” about 2 minutes later, my phone vibrated with an email; sure enough, DC had already posted it – way too funny. Jennifer and I got back to the hotel about 9pm and had a quick bite to eat before hitting the sack.

After a much better night’s sleep, I got up and headed out for a 30 minute easy spin out to river road and back, then ran for about 15 minutes. Back at the hotel, I packed up all my race bags as planned. In each special needs bag and transition bag I put a couple of gels and electrolyte tabs, a spare contact lens, and some eye drops. My bike transition bag also included my helmet, shoes, a spare pitstop, a small towel, gloves, socks, shoes, and sunscreen. Everything went into large ziplocks (thanks for that, KathyG!). My run bag included a visor, sun glasses, socks, shoes, and my 310xt. In bike special needs I included a couple of spare Co2s, and another spare tubular, and in run special needs I added another pair of socks, a handful of fig newtons and a couple of miniature snickers per Wes’ sage advice.

Special Needs bags packed and ready.

Before grabbing lunch we headed down to transition, racked the bike, and dropped off the bags, then I walked back to the hotel and put my feet up for another little nap. We got a nice little surprise in that one of very best friends Cathy McHale decided at the last minute to drive up from NYC to spectate with Jennifer – she got in town in time to join us for dinner at Jimmy’s 21, a perfectly fine pre-race Italian restaurant just a block from the hotel. In bed by 10pm, and another really good night sleep – pretty rare for me before a race!

Event Warm-Up
Up at 4:10am. Had a banana, yogurt, and bagel with peanut butter. If we had a kitchen I would have added a couple of scrambled eggs, but I figured I would make do without – historically I have found the meals 2 days prior to a long race have a bigger impact on race-day nutrition than the morning of. I had been stacking carbs and fluids for 48 hours, and felt pretty good. At 5am, I suited up, and we headed down to transition.

Race day morning transition area

I carried my sleeveless wetsuit, but based on a conversation with Sam (my awesome coach) the afternoon prior, had decided that if they were not legal I would not wear one. Not because I thought I had chance of qualifying, but we knew the day would be warm and long, and did not want to start the day upside down on hydration. I figured the time I might lose would be minimal compared to what I could make up later in the day.

Patience.

After getting body marked, I stopped by my transition bags and marked the rack & bags with bright red gaffer’s (in order to make them easier to find on the fly)  then headed to the bike racks to pump the tires and mount my computer. Props to all those racers who bring a pump to transition – us out-of-town folks love you, especially when you are patient enough to let 20 more folks queue up to use it. I calibrated my power meter, and made a command decision to swap my spare track tubular for a heavier-duty Tangente. I figured if I flatted due to road conditions a tougher tire might be in order.

Body marked and ready to go!

I caught up with Jennifer just outside of transition, and we headed over to drop off my special needs bags. Jennifer scouted out good spots to watch the start, then we walked back to the beach. Despite constant admonitions from “Voice of Ironman” Mike Reilly, I simply donned my desoto 68 degree top over my race kit, popped my coach-instructed earplugs in and entered the water. As I was enjoying the first of what would be many pees of the day, it suddenly dawned on me that I was supposed to go through the chute to register my chip. I hustled out of the water and over to the “no wetsuit” timing mat entry. On my way out of the water I noticed a handful of of wet folks drying off and putting on wetsuits on the beach and entering the water directly – I will leave you to figure out what they might be up to…?

Back in the water, I dog paddled out to the starting line – the pros had just gone off, and there were not yet many racers up on the line. So of course I found myself there, treading water right under the flags, with a handful of other folks. With about 4 minutes to go, an absolute swarm of wetsuits arrived. This was the only time I felt any sort of anxiousness in the water; with two minutes to go we were packed in like sardines – I literally could not get my hands out to tread water in the midst of the wetsuited folks who were bobbing around like corks. I could basically scull my hands right next to my hips, and actually found it easier to simply bob up and down above and below the surface water and grab a breath whenever I could manage. No big deal – you can do anything for a couple of minutes, right? It sounds cheesy, but the last thing I reminded myself before the cannon was what Mike Reilly had advised a few minutes earlier: “there will be a lot of things that happen today that are out of my control, but the one thing I CAN control is my attitude.”

I did not know it at the time, but this would turn out to be seriously good advice.

Swim Course
The swim features a 2.4 mile two loop swim in beautiful Mirror Lake, a calm, pristine lake right in the heart of Lake Placid. It is a mass start swim (2500+ racers go of together) with swim buoys on the left. There are a pair of shiny steel cables approximately 5 feet below the surface that mark the shortest swim line around the course. After the first lap there is a short run on the beach before entering the swim for the final lap.

After the second lap, there is a 400m carpeted run downhill on Lake Placid Club Drive to the transition zone located on the Olympic Speed skating Oval.

Swim

BOOM.

Even with earplugs that tiny cannon packs quite a wollup. My plan was to ease into the swim, but that instantly turned into a dumb idea, particularly due to my start location coupled with the decision to go wetsuitless. I pretty quickly got overrun and spent a good deal of time swimming vertically as folks were all over my back and legs.

Where's Waldo?

While it certainly impeded my forward progress, the good thing is that without a wetsuit I was actually pretty comfortable. I just continued to take it pretty easy and not fight the crowd. While not my intention, I very quickly got herded over to the cable line. About 500 yards into the swim, a little space opened up a bit, but then immediately closed back down. This repeated itself over and over for the remainder of the first lap, but again, no worries. Really, really glad that I got my bilateral breathing to where it is my natural rhythm – it made it much easier to catch breaths easily whenever I could. At the first turn buoys,  all of the sudden gained the new skill of being able to pee while swimming – who knew? I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks, no matter how weird the trick. I cruised back to the beach, still not able to get into a groove, but very relaxed none the less.

First swim lap done, off to lap 2

Once on the beach for a short sprint to start the second lap, I downed the gel and flask of water that I had tucked in the back of my suit. I think the gel was a good idea, but pretty soon I realized I did not need the fluids – I peed again on the way out for the second go round the turn buoys, and AGAIN (yes a third time!) on the final return to the beach. The second lap was a good bit faster than the first – Like most, I stayed right on the cable and basically rode the train back in.

Swim Time: 01:19:16
171st in Age Group,  1344th Over-All

What I Would do Differently on the Swim
Swim Faster.
Had I really thought much about it, once I made the decision to not wear my wetsuit, I should have then re-thought my start location. Really wish I had brought my speed tube; it would have been the perfect set-up for this race. I never figured this race would be non-wetsuit legal – next time better safe than sorry though.

Even though my swim was about 10 minutes slower than I expected, I still think not wearing a wetsuit was a good decision overall, based on all the other race reports and comments about dehydration and heat. I felt great when I got out of the water.

Transition 1: Swim to Bike
Yikes! I planned to Cadillac the transitions, but holy-moly!
Ran really well to the transition tent, stayed off the carpet most of the way to get around folks that were jogging slow. Stripped out of my 78 degree top on the fly. Bee-lined to my row, grabbed my transition bag (marking it with red tape was a very good idea) and darted right into a tent jammed packed with a twisting, writhing mass of utter chaos (note to self: learn to swim faster). I made my way to the far end of the changing tent, found a seat (good idea? bad idea? Who knows? Next year I am actually going to have a strategy about this particular moment). Helmet on first, then shoes, arm warmers on the wrists, gloves on, stand up, pitstop in my jersey pocket, and a few extra gels in my other pocket, just in case. Off to the bike while putting on my race belt. I made it to my bike rack, grabbed it myself (next time I know to start yelling my number right when I come out of the tent), and moved on to the bike exit where I ran into a huge log jam of people, all queuing up at the mount line. I was a little bit of a pushy jerk, but I squeezed up against the rail, picked up my bike over-head, and ran with it downhill about 25~30 yards well past the mount line and rolled.

T1 Time: 00:10:51

What I Would do Differently in T1

1. Swim faster.
2. No reason to sit – keep moving.
3. Now that I have done this once, it will be a lot easier to visualize and practice. I spent way too much time checking and rechecking stuff in transition – next year I gotta just go. WAY too much free time to make up here.

Bike Course
112 mile, two loop bike course that takes place on state, county, and local roads. The bike course features scenic mountain and valley views and climbs 3000+ feet on each loop.

Bike
Even though I had read about it a million times, the descent out of T1 was surprisingly hairy. Rough, steep, and a little feisty, the first mile out of town was littered with debris that had been ejected from the bikes of faster racers. I ran the gauntlet without mishap, but I did manage to immediately lose the Pitstop out of my rear pocket without knowing it, but I would not find that out until several hours later…

I took it super, super easy on the initial ascent out of town, which rolls up and up and up again before reaching the infamous descent into Keene. I zone oned it up to the top, and as expected got overtaken by a ton of racers. I was prepared for this to happen, but it is awfully tough to let folks go and do your own thing. This is probably the single most important skill I have learned  over this past year. And hey, I figure everyone warms up differently for a 112 bike ride, right?

The descent into Keene was everything that folks say – I found it a blast -  and even faster than the test ride from the couple of days before as you could actually get off the shoulder and out into the road. The downside was that there were way too many other folks doing the same thing, and albeit a good bit slower. The ride down is not technical at all, it is just fairly straight and fast. There is one spot where the course really opens up and allows a little crosswind, but I was prepared for that from my test ride and had no worries. My front 808 ran straight and true.

Halfway down the descent into Keene

Once into Keene I really began to settle in, take stock and do an overall systems check. The air temperature and humidity were really nice, and my heart rate was surprisingly low, mainly in high zone 1/low zone 2. My average power however was running above 190 watts, which was about 10 watts higher than planned, so despite how well I was feeling, I backed down just a bit. On the bit between Keene and Jay, I began to realize that I had to pee yet again, which was a bit of a surprise. I had read countless threads on BT about exactly this situation, but was still not quite sure what I would do (or be able to do) if/when faced with this situation. At least it gave me something interesting to contemplate for a while…

It turned out to be easy. Signal that I am slowing and easing over to the shoulder, stand, coast, go. Left shoe full of pee. Rinse, repeat as required, which eventually turned out to be 2 more times on the bike. Awesome. I am one step closer to being a real Ironman.

I remember reading a lot of complaints about the Au Sable Forks out-and-back, but I liked this part as it is here that really let’s you see how the race is developing both out in front as well as in back of you. I was a little surprised by the packs that had formed up, but I was also pretty sure that wouldn’t last for long due to the hills that were coming. Weirdly somewhere along the way a black cat darted out of the bushes and crossed the the road right in front of a few cyclists up from me, successfully dodging those of us going out, and the fasties coming back in from Au Sable Forks, which caused a lot of chuckles and comments from the handful of folks that saw it. Jinx #1.

Superstitions aside, my nutrition And fluids were all literally going like clockwork: I was basically taking a gel every 30 minutes and a Salt Stick tab every 45. I took fluid hand ups every 10 miles, and basically rolled with a 1/2 bottle of Perform and 1/2 bottle of water at all times. At every aid station I would finish one or the other and replace it, alternating at each hand up.

Hit the bottom of the long climb back into town and basically just motored up, getting in my small chain ring only twice in the 12 or so miles. When Jennifer and I drove this part of the course I thought it looked much, much easier than I had been led to believe, which it turned out to be. It basically just stair steps up with plenty of false-flat areas where you can really roll, in the aerobars all the way up for the most part until the very end. While obviously tougher than a lot of rides, the variability of the climb really suits me – much, much easier than the steady diet of repeated hour-long climbs I did all summer in North Georgia. Admittedly this is also where the Garmin 800 really excelled – I had the LP course loaded and the elevation display set to look ahead about 2nd miles, so I always knew exactly what was coming – it helped me know when to get on it a bit and when lay back a little. Near the top of the Bears the crowd was awesome, dancing bananas and all. All day the volunteers and spectators were unbelievably fantastic. Rolled through town, saw Jennifer, slowed down just a bit to shout that I was feeling great and that I loved her – there simply cannot be over-stated how important these encounters are, no matter how brief.

First lap on the bike finished, off on lap 2!

Bike split for lap 1: dead-on 3 hours, super easy, and feeling spectacularly great, which left me feeling a little anxious, quite frankly – just waiting for the wheels to fly off. Out of town, roll up, then back down into Keane – a lot more space to work with this time, so I could really fly this time – near the bottom it got a little hairy, as a dude in front of me hit a pretty good bump which caused the proverbial “Yard Sale” of shit off the back of his bike – most of the stuff went off onto the shoulder, but a Perform bottle acted like a side-winding, heat-seeking torpedo and locked onto me, tucked into aero and rolling at 50 mph. “well, here we go,” I thought, but just before impact it cartwheeled off the ground and rocketed over my head. I eased back a bit through the last curve into Keene and a guy rolled up next to me and said “Sweet Jesus, that was crazy – I thought you were dead!” I laughed it off, and said that at least now I had something exciting happen during the race, but if that was it I would be happy. Jinx #2.

As an aside, I know the guy that ejected the bottle, etc. has done countless rides for years with his rear bottle setup and never lost a thing. I know he loves them and is as shocked as everyone that he ejected a bottle. I love mine too – I train with them all the time – there is nothing as great as being fully supported with 4 bottles on a long training ride. That said, TAKE THAT SHIT OFF YOUR BIKE ON RACE DAY. IT IS EFFING DANGEROUS. There are hand-ups every 10 miles, for Christ sake.

Whew.

One last time into Keene

Low mile 70-something, I eased through an aid station and grabbed a gel, then a water near the end. I rolled on out of the aid station, and began accelerating into the clear. just as I am dropping the water bottle into the cage on my frame, another racer crosses from left to right, stops, and plants his feet on the road, bike perpendicular to the direction of travel and directly in front of me.

Everyone asks, but I have no idea what he was thinking or doing. I do not know if he missed the aid station, or was trying to get to a port-o-potty, or what. All I know is that I t-boned him with a water bottle in my right hand and my left hand unfortunately on the front brake. As I crashed into him I cartwheeled heels-over-head and was immediately run over by two more racers from behind.

Contrary to conventional story telling, it did not happen in slow motion.

I only remember saying three words: “God,” just he cut in front of me.

“dam,” as I was in the air.

and “mit!” as my head and elbow simultaneously hit the ground.

I remember a “pop” in my shoulder, but don’t really know if it was a sound, feeling, or both.

Immediately up on my feet, spin each of my wheels, and back on my bike.

No-go. Front tire flat. Stop. Off. Breathe.

Assess.

Right bullhorn is snapped where the brake lever attaches. Rear brake mysteriously sheered off, most likely from the rear collision.

Hmmmm.

Now this next part I am reluctant to write, but for some reason I think it is the most important thing I want to remember from the day.

I was not angry. I was not upset. I was,

embarrassingly,

Relieved.

“Now I don’t have to do this any more.” I thought. “I can quit. I put the work in, but had a bad day. Too bad for me, oh-well, so it goes. Oh well, nothing you can do about it, better luck next time, dude, next time you will crush it.”

I trudged about 100 meters back to the aid station, where I talked to a characteristically friendly volunteer, told him my bike was toast, and that I was done. He said that it was indeed a spectacular crash, and that it was too bad, but at any rate his shift was over in about 10 minutes and he could give me ride back into town in his truck. “Awesome!” I think I said. So I sat there, watching racers go by one-by-one. Thankfully, I had 10 minutes to wait, because it gave me time to have a little conversation with myself. It went something like: “Wait a minute, you asshole, you are on pace to have well over 5 hours to spare before midnight, so you could monkey around out here for 5 more hours with your bike and still finish.” I went back to the first volunteer and asked him if he was familiar with the course and he said yes, that he rode it many, many times. I couldn’t quite remember what was coming up, but he assured me that there was only one more significant descent (down into Wilmington). I thanked him, told him I un-quit – and just like that, I was back in the race.

Immediately over-taken by a calm happiness: now I just had a series of problems to solve and tasks to perform one-by-one patiently and methodically. No more worrying about time. In my mind now just finishing becomes the single measure of whether this is a successful “A” race or not.

First order of business: disconnect the mess that is my rear brake. Done, no problem. Second, do something with my rear brake lever, which was a little more problematic – I didn’t want to lose it, but it had really, really sharp edges from where it basically split the bull horn. So I carefully unwound the electrical tape that was holding the bar tape on and used it to re-wrap the tape around the bull horn. Check – problem #2 solved. On to the flat front tire.

It was about this moment when I began to realize that I was actually injured. I knew that I was bleeding pretty good from my elbow and shoulder, and that my finger tips were pretty cut up (good call on the gloves, though) but as I was trying to roll my tubular off the front rim I began to realize that I really could not use my right hand or lift my arm much. I quickly gave up on prying the tire off (very nice job I did on the gluing!) and just cut it off with my back-up razor blade. On goes the new tire in less than a minute. Tubies are sweet in that regard. Spin the wheels, back on the bike, and rolling – still not too concerned about right arm. Right shoe clipped in, pedal, accelerate, left shoe will not clip in – try, try, try – must have gotten packed with dirt, stop, look. Crap. One of the two retention springs on the cleat (Speedplay) is twisted to hell. Just another thing on the list. Try to pry it out – no-go. Between my bum right hand/arm and limitations of my small multi-tool, I just cannot get it out. So, cross the road, ease BACK to the aid station yet again and locate a pair of vice grips from another volunteer. I sort of mangle the cleat, but eventually make short work out of twisting and breaking off the offending retention spring and I am off, yet again.

I have absolutely no idea what happened to the other three riders – I was (for better or worse) focused on my own predicament. We never even looked at or said a word to each other. Hopefully they got their shit together and were able to roll on faster and in better shape than I was.

So, just to recap: 40 miles to go, one good descent remains, one longish climb, no rear brake, one good cleat and a still-mysterious non-functioning right arm and hand. Rock on.

In and out of the aerobars, now my arm is really hurting, but it mostly seems like it is just my banged up elbow coming in contact with the elbow pad. I finally start to really assess the situation when I roll through the next aid station and I cannot reach out and grab a bottle on the fly. No problem – still plenty of fluids on the bike. Next aid station (in Jay, I think?) I signal that I am slowing, ease in and manage to get a bottle, but it is a pretty ginger operation to get drink – by now I know it is really my shoulder that is giving me fits and I just cannot put too much pressure on it or move it quickly. I cannot use it to steer, but using my arm from the elbow down is manageable, just so long as I keep the motions slow, easy, and controlled. Up, then down fast into Wilmington, feathering the brakes as I near the turn at the bottom. Short out and back then back up the long climb into Lake Placid one more time, Still rolling pretty good, but this time not in the aerobars and doing a lot more high-cadence spinning. This time up I could begin to see that the distance and climb was taking its toll on quite a number of folks; but my heart rate was still low, and legs were still feeling really great. Back at the top, crowd still there, including the dancing bananas. Into town, and this time I slowed waaaaay down to catch Jennifer again, and told her really quickly that I had a crash, but that I was OK.

The excitement of rolling into transition for the last time is indescribable: Injuries aside, I actually felt great and still pretty fresh. The humidity was low and the temperature was inconsequential. The route in has a few sharp turns, and in the excitement I forgot momentarily that I had no rear brakes and came into one corner a little hot, but was fine. Exciting!

Hand off the bike, and into transition.

Bike Time: 06:07:43
105th in Age Group,  770th Over-All

What I would do Differently on the Bike
Don’t crash.

Honestly, this is one of most well executed race rides I can remember. Except for the handful of seconds when I was actually in the air and then hitting the ground, this ride was a blast from the first pedal stroke. It seemed actually pretty easy, relaxed, and fun. All of the training this past winter, spring and summer paid off, and I felt as if I had an excellent (albeit conservative) pacing and nutrition plan and executed it perfectly.

At this point I was no longer paying attention to my time, but afterwards my Garmin showed that I was stopped on the side of the road for a total of 19 minutes and 45 seconds. Not too shabby, all things considered.

I thought I was there for at least 2 hours.

Transition 2: Bike to Run
Grab my run bag, into the tent, thanking all the volunteers along the way, convinced a couple that I was fine when they showed some concern about the blood, sat down, off with the helmet (awesome – inside of my helmet was cracked from the crash impact – glad I didn’t know that!), gloves, shoes, and socks. Running socks on, shoes on and tied (with some much needed volunteer help, I should add – I am not very good at tying my shoe with one hand), grabbed my glasses, visor, and zip lock bags full of electrolytes and gels, and back on my feet.

Grabbed my Garmin 310xt, and just barely remembered to turn it on before I was off and running.

T2 Time: 8:55

What I would do Differently in T2
Hard to say due to the “extenuating circumstances” I found my self in, but I obviously have some free time I can squeeze out of my transitions. I think on both I need to simply do more visualization on the end of the respective swim and bike – I am pretty good about this in other races, I think for my first Ironman I just soaked in the excitement but then had to slow down and check/recheck everything too much.

Run Course
26.2 mile two loop figure eight-ish course that passes through the edge of downtown area four times, allowing for lots of spectating.

Run
Basically, this course is awesome. I took it easy going out of transition as it is pretty steep – I have learned the hard way over the years that this is NOT the place for me to make up time – pounding down the steep descents always smokes my quads. I was prepared for this a bit as all of my runs off the bike in the mountains this summer featured at least 5 minutes of very steep downhill running immediately, then some rolling stretches, and a god-awful climb back to the car. Lake Placid was again a piece of cake compared to training.

I don’t know how to describe the run course other than it has to be just about the most fair course I have ever raced – to run it well you have to be just a good all-around runner as the route throws everything at you, and twice: quick, steep inclines and descents, long gradual pulls, and both long stretches of climbing and flat terrain. Also parts of the course are in full sun, and others are in deep shade.

Headed out of town for lap one of the marathon

Once out of town the spectators thin out and there is longish, steady descent to river road, where the course gently rolls out and back. I really began to settle in along this stretch, even though I had not seen any of the run course previously. Shoulder is really aching, but eventually I figure out that whenever it gets unbearable I can simply tuck my arm into the zipper of my jersey so that it acts as a make-shift sling. Check. Another problem solved. I executed my nutrition strategy as planned: 1 gel every 30 minutes, Salt Stick every 30 (offset from gel by 15 minutes) and water at every aid station. Never even thought about walking, just chugged along at my still surprisingly low zone 2 heart rate. I thought the air temp was great – very comfortable (low 80′s?) and still no humidity to speak of. Started catching folks that were really suffering, but also talked to a several that were also having good days. This was a really interesting part of the race for me because of these brief encounters. I would catch someone (or occasionally be caught) and one or the other of us would say a few words, make a joke, laugh and then we were both gone, back in our own tiny little world…

Made the turn, and headed back – coming out of the woods the ski jumps provide a great landmark to judge your progress. Up the long pull into town, a short but steeeeeeep climb past the transition (more like a wall, really), then out again along Mirror Lake on the shorter out and back. I had no needs, special or otherwise, so I just kept on going without stopping. Just past the turn around, I saw Jennifer again for the third time and she ran along the sidewalk next to me for a brief moment. I gave her a brief run-down, told her my shoulder was banged up, but not to worry, I was fine – then off, back in that tiny world again. Just outside of town Steve (CornerOfDivision) caught me and gave me some great words of encouragement, then he was off to break 12 hours, which I thought was really cool. Down the long hill, and back out on River Road, where now there were some real meltdowns going on – I still felt great, but the world did feel just a tad bit tinier.

Second time on out River Road, Olympic ski jumps in the background, only 10 miles to go and feeling great!

Made the turn, and for the first time started to think about finishing. At mile 19 and according to plan, I picked it up a bit to see how I felt, and surprisingly the ‘ol legs responded without a complaint. Sweet. Between mile 20 an 21, there is a short but steep little hill just before you come around the corner and can see the ski jumps in the distance. I floated up to the top easily, then moved the throttle forward one more notch. Up to this point I had not even thought to look at my watch – I had no idea how long I was on the course and did not have an over-all time on my Garmin, as I was only using it to record my marathon time. I didn’t even have a good sense of what time it was.

So I looked.

6:14pm. Cool, I should be in around 7pm.

Started at 7 am, can’t believe I will be out here for 12 hours.

12 hours? SAY WHAT???? I CAN STILL MAKE 12 HOURS???

Pick up the pace a bit, more math – look at watch again – now at 4.2 miles to go, 6:24pm. still struggling with the numbers – what is this, differential equations or something???? Come on brain…)

According to plan Sam put together for me, with 5k to go (provided I have anything left) I am supposed to let it all fly, caution to the wind. For the first time all day, I deviate from the plan, and I go a mile early. I am on fire – up the long pull and across the flats on the outskirts of town, then charging the steep hill. If you asked me then, I would swear to you I was running 5:50 miles. Back in town he crowd was crazy – it was packed on the rails – and then I saw Jennifer and Cathy, yelling at the top of their lungs:

GOOOOOOOOOOOO ——– RUUUUUSTTTTYYYYYY ——– GOOOOOOOOO! GOOOOOOO! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I found the front rivet, and commenced to get on it.

Eyes-rolled-back-in-my-head-turned-inside-out-on-the-stops-wide-open.

I don’t even remember turning down the Mirror Lake out-and-back, but as Steve had suggested during our brief chat, everything snapped back into sharp focus at the turn – people were yelling like crazy, but all it sounded like was,

“GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! SOMETHING SOMETHING 12 HOURS GOOOOOOOOOO!”

Floating.

Into the Olympic Oval, and sweep around the curve.

Look up: 11:59:05.

Alone on the stretch, yellow numbers, seconds, advancing.

Dig.

Mike Reilly: “Rusty Smith, Decatur, Georgia. You did it. Come on home, Rusty. You are an Ironman.”

I have no idea how I got my right arm over my head - it would be 4 weeks before I could do that again.

(Video: Watch this video on the post page)

Run Time: 04:12:33
58th in Age Group,  583rd Over-All

What I Would do Differently on the Run
Zip up for my photo.
How in the world do the pros remember to do it???

Post Race

In the chute, medal. water. Finisher’s Cap. T-Shirt. Then, medical tent. Friendly Doc, told me it was my call as to whether to go to the emergency room or keep it immobilized until I got home to visit with my own physician, which I elected to do. Back out, immediately I find Jennifer and Cathy, or rather, they find me. Due to my gimpy status, they were graciously allowed to help me retrieve my bike and other belongings, and then they both helped me wrestle out of my race kit and into warm ups.

Now THAT is service!

Headed back to the the Mirror Lake Inn for an icebath (yuck) and hot shower (yee-haw!)

Back at the hotel, all systems began to rapidly shut down. Jennifer forced me into an ice bath. I was not particularly happy about it but did not have the strength to argue. Thankfully.

Hip rotator was aching and shoulder was killing.

A hot shower, then Pizza, and a beer.

Lights out.

Woke the next morning, with my only single regret from the previous day was that I was not able to be at the finish line at midnight. My hip rotator was in full-on rebellion, I literally had to pick my leg up with my hands to get in the car, but the problem with this is that I only had one good hand and arm. If I tried to pick up anything with my right hand it felt like I was being stabbed with a hot poker in the shoulder. But that still did keep us from having fun on our last day in Lake Placid – while I was in no shape to do the bobsled run, we did enjoy a trip to the top of White Face Mountain.

Lake Placid in the background (Miror Lake is the tiny little finger lake in the upper left hand corner)

Fast forward two days, and back in Atlanta to the Doc – turns out I suffered a grade two right shoulder separation and had flare up of tendinosis in my left hip to boot.. looks like about 8 weeks of rehab for me.

This is what a grade 2 Seperation of the Acromioclavicular Joint looks like

As you can see, the group in our van is looking pretty fresh for our 9am start.

Our lead-off man David Brush starts us off on the 20 degree chilly morning along the banks of the Tennessee River.

In a relay like this one, each of the six runners in the first van runs a leg. The rest of the team caravans ahead to the next transition spot. On the way, the team will stop periodically to cheer the runner on, and provide a little fluid and food as well.

When the team gets to the next transition, we get a little break to stretch our legs…

and then the next runner goes off. The first part of the run wound its way through the forest along the Tennessee River – although hilly, it was also really beautiful. You can tell by how much Joy is appearing to enjoy it.

After the van finishes up its cycle, the next van takes off with their runners while the first van leap-frogs forward to the spot where the second van will finish up their legs to repeat the process all over again. The first leg is easy, but on the subsequent legs this is the moment you wait for:

JT getting ready to go:

And she’s off! (of course you have to be a little off to enter a race like this!)

Like a postman, the race does not stop for rain, snow, sleet, or gloom of night. We continued to run on through the night…

But we did get a chance to catch about an hour of “sleep” on a gymnasium floor while we were waiting for the next van to arrive.

The thing that is really fun about endurance sports is anything can happen. One of our team mates came up a little lame for their last leg, so I picked it up for them – this was my fourth leg into the race, for about 25 miles total. And yes, you have to be FAST to rock man-capri tights.

The rest our team from van 2 coming in to the finish line in Nashville. Van 2 was already short a runner, so they already ran a few extra legs. But these girls are so tough, they all decided to run the last leg together to the finish. Awesome!

The whole of team “My Feet Hurt”

Van 2 sporting our finisher’s medals:

Since we finished up in Nashville, we got to visit with the newest little Casella, Finn. Jeff C. was our team captain, and Laret ran on another (slower – HA!) team.

All-in-all this was a great time, but I cannot even tell you what our finishing time was – I think it was around 29 hours? For someone that is usually pretty focused on that kind of data – I think that is a good thing for once. I did keep up with my times though – I am not that crazy…

For my part I provided a couple of loaves of crusty bread. It should be noted that I really enjoy baking, as unlike cooking it is very scientific. In this sense baking reminds me high school chemistry lab – if you veer from the instructions by even an iota, you will most likely get a inedible mess. Occasionally however you will do even worse, like the time in tenth grade when the school was evacuated because we made hydrochloric acid by (sort of) accident. Even more rarely, there is a truly serendipitous moment when you make something entirely new, AND it is edible, AND it won’t kill you. I have only read about these baking moments. Anyway, I did not aim for this rarefied moment of baking, but I did want to try out something that required a couple of days of carefully orchestrated agents, reagents, actions, and reactions to perhaps engender any modicum of success. So I took the weekend and made a some half-whole-wheat rustic bread. From everything that I read about one’s first attempt at baking, I was steeled for abject failure. Surprisingly, my first foray into bread baking from scratch was instead just successful enough as to leave me most likely thoroughly disappointed with my next attempt. We will see soon enough.

After dinner, Margaret, Raigan and Eric introduced the rest of us to a fun card game called “Oh, Hell” “Aw, Shit” “Tarter Sauce” in which you get points by not winning any points, lose points by not winning enough points, and the dinner hostess gets points each round just by virtue of being score keeper. It was an all around nice close to a fun weekend. Like always, click the thumbnail above to see the pics.

When I got home my plan for the afternoon was to take a good, long nap, and then maybe watch a little Olympics before getting back to work. This is always the worst at the beginning of training season, when a little ride like this can wreck your whole day by making you pretty much worthless for anything else. So, instead of napping, I decided to do some yard work that has been outstanding for way too long: raking up the remainder of our leaves. For those of you who are familiar with where we live, you know we have quite a number of very large oaks on our property that keep us busy throughout the year. During the fall we usually have to rake about 5 times before the leaves are done for the year. Unfortunately up until now we have only raked four times as it has been raining so much. Tired as I was, I hustled through the chore, finishing up both the front and back yards in about three hours. There were enough leaves to practically fill our compost pen. It was exhausting day, but in the end I cannot imagine anything that would have been more satisfying. Work and play: there are really not many things more lovely that a freshly raked yard, especially after a good hard workout. With the leaves all cleaned up the first tentative perennials can be seen just beginning to peak up above the surface of the ground. in about ten more days we should have beds full of Jonquils and Daffodils. While it does not exactly feel like spring is around the corner, at least this makes it look a little more like it is. And in my book, that counts.

So why “70 miles?” Well it seems that I remember reading some years ago in Runner’s World that one pound of fat contains approximately 7 miles of arterial capillaries. So ten pounds of fat  means that the ticker has 70 extra miles through which to push blood on its round trip circuit. As you might imagine this this can create a dramatic increase in head pressure on the ol’ cardiovascular system, which really showed on the road today. OK, so “70 miles” does make for a dramatic and motivational image and all, but is it really true? well, a quick Google search turns up this bit of scientific blargity-blargity, in which Dr. Ed Friedlander, M.D. and Pathologist states:

“How many miles of blood vessels are there in a pound of fat?” People write me about this every once in a while. Let’s figure it out. Assume an adipocyte is 50 microns across; it’ll vary from 10-100 depending on how fat the person is. The fatter you are, the less vascular is your fat, which is one more reason that this whole inquiry is silly. In a section of body fat, which I examine often enough under the microscope, the capillary (there has to be at least one) that supplies each fat cell is not usually visible, so I’ll assume one per adipocyte, and all going in the same direction. Put a single capillary between each pair of fat cells and that’s about 20 capillaries per millimeter, or about 500 capillaries per inch, or 250,000 capillaries per square inch. Assume a pound of fat is a cube 4″ on a side, which is good enough for junk science, or 16 square inches, and that is 4,000,000 capillaries running through the cube, 16,000,000 inches. There are 12 inches in a foot and 5280 feet in a mile, so if you get 500 miles you did the arithmetic the same way that I did. If you prefer 100 miles as in other estimates, simply assume that there’s a capillary between every other pair of adipocytes, rather than every pair. That this question is fundamentally wrong-headed can be understood by anyone who considers whether moving a certain total number of cars through Kansas City would be easier with more highways or fewer highways. Further, the vast majority of these capillaries are completely closed at any moment during your life, and not carrying any blood. At autopsy, blood usually dribbles from other organs but not from fat. At surgery, other organs bleed plenty but fat barely bleeds. The real question isn’t, “How many extra miles of blood vessels?”, but “How much rougher is it on my heart to be fat?” Think about walking around carrying 100 lb of weights everywhere you go.

Well just blah. I still prefer to think that it is the 70 miles of blood vessels that are slowing me down, rather than a dramatic loss of fitness. I mean that is something that a little liposuction can take care of. If it is indeed the fitness, it seems that I am actually going to have to get back on a regular training regimen again. Rats.

All that said (and needless to say), on my recent trip to Cancun I sampled quite a few cocktails. Piña Coladas, Margaritas, Mai Tais, Bahama Mamas, Mojitos, and of course the eponymous three-layered Riviera Maya. I even made up my own drink, called a “God Bless America.” Like the Riviera Maya, it also has three layers: the first is Blue Curacao, the second is a Piña Colada, and the third is a Strawberry Margarita. I suggest you drink it with a straw. The bartender renamed it the “Toby Keith,” ’cause what’s more American than that? I am embarrassed to say “Yum.” When in Rome…

Unfortunately i now have the overwhelming love of

getting caught in the rain,
and a penchant for making love at midnight,
but NOT in the dunes at the cape.
That would be too much sand in the privates;
I mean,  I HAVE half a brain…