Archive for November, 2007
By Luis Vargas, markallenonline.comUnless you are planning on racing in the Southern Hemisphere, the preparations you’re making right now are most likely for holiday festivities-selecting the fattest, juiciest turkeys, trimming the Christmas tree, shopping for gifts and planning vacations. With no big race to prepare for, what should a triathlete to do to make sure his or her 2008 performances are an improvement from 2007 showings? Stay tuned! In next Tuesday’s installment of this four-part series, I’ll delve further into the three race-season patterns above.
It’s that time of the year, time to have time. Time to do all those things you wanted to or neglected to do while training mile after mile in water and on land. Resting the focus of the mind while muscles store up nutrients; one morphs into an energized being with free time. Both commodities I have spent with wreckless abandon the last several months. Suddenly, I notice my surroundings again with a new perspective. Released from the blur of training and its strict, narrow path…I now have time to get organized. When you are training, traveling, racing and repeating this process over and over again; a messy desk at work, a cluttered garage, un-packed luggage and loads of laundry… all fall into that blur. Without all the training; I have discovered new powers. I no longer need the 8 to 10 hours of sleep every night, 6 or 7 have me bouncing off walls. I can skip a meal and I will not kill over dead from hunger. I can stay up late, eat a large bowl of ice-cream and not bonk the next day. I can work through lunch, skipping the workout and huge meal afterwards. As for the messy blur…that’s all coming into focus now. I begin a toned down version of Fall-Cleaning that my mom instilled in me. My mom has a PHD in Cleaning and I garnered a Masters degree at the early age of 11. Hortense and I tackle our basement first. A grand scale re-organizing process starts to mend the months of neglect. I am moving furniture while Hortense is doing heaps of laundry. “I’m throwing this away.” She says. I turn to see what she is holding up…it’s a revered Triathlon T-Shirt. The shirt is OK but the race is fantastic. It was also my last amateur race so it holds some extra meaning. Sensing my disagreement, “Look at the armpit stains… you workout in a Cotton shirt? It’s disgusting.” I can’t deny that the yellow-brown armpits stains are abhorred. And I have what seem like thousands of these t-shirts. OK, no need to be a pack rat. I grab the shirt and take a good last look at the piece of memorabilia. The Pacific Grove Triathlon shirt stairs back at me and begs me not to do it. I’m wasting time looking at this old t-shirt and I notice all the work that still needs to be done. I see some dust and mess that needs wiped down with a rag. This T-shirt was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The shirt was down-graded to a rag, and a very good rag at that. Happy Thanksgiving!
It should read the San Francisco Duathlon at Treasure Island. A tragic oil spill in San Francisco Bay canceled the swim portion of the triathlon so we did a heavily weighted running race. Hortense and I arrived in San Francisco on Wednesday to enjoy some down time before the race on Saturday. Thursday morning I started reading the San Francisco Chronicle and my jaw dropped. All over the front page were pictures of the Cargo Ship, ‘Cosco Busan”, floating in the Bay with a massive wound, belching out bunker fuel after colliding with the Bay Bridge. I had a flood of emotions over-take me; melancholy, resignation and desperation seemed to be the theme. “Heartbreaking”, said the big bolded title of the paper. How could this happen in San Francisco Bay, in 2008? A miscue, that will torture and kill scores of marine life as well as render pristine beaches toxic, is blameworthy. I realized I was going to be denied the pleasure of swimming in the Bay…my swimming season had come to a pre-mature end. That was hard to swallow; my strength is swimming and I had tweaked my training the last several months to maximize it. It worked; I was swimming fast, surpassing even my lofty expectations. I was going to make people suffer in the swim. Instead, the runners of the sport were going to get a chance to make me suffer in a 6.5k run, 40k bike, 10k run. I remained upbeat seeing an opportunity and a challenge, knowing that the race was going to be hard. 50 pro men lined up in the narrow street about 6 or 7 deep. I was 3 deep behind Hunter Kemper. He looked back at the group and said, “We have a lot of running, I promise not to take it out too hard.” If he stayed true to his word…His, ‘not too hard’ is my ‘red line’. I was ok for the first mile but pushing a very fast pace and still about 15 seconds down to the first group of guys. It became painfully obvious that I would not be able to hold this pace another 15+ minutes. Still in the front half of the pack I began to fall back. After completing the first lap (2 miles) I was 45 seconds behind the leaders. Doing the next lap with the same kind of effort seemed out of reach. I held on to a group of 4 guys now near the back half of the race. Looking ahead it looked promising that I would get in a good draft pack as there was a long string of runners in front of me. Running into transition the leaders were just leaving about 2 minutes up on me. My transition was quick, just taking off my running shoes and grabbing my bike. I ran the 200m s-curve with my bike to the mount line with several guys in front and behind me. I looked down as I started to get on my bike and time stopped. I blinked a few times and stared for what seemed like a minute. I was dumbfounded. My bike shoe was missing!? It was no longer clipped into the pedal and was no where in sight. What can I do…my race is over….really over. I heard shouting, I snapped out of my trance and heard people shouting that my shoe had fallen off and was way back in transition. I started running back to transition with my bike, then, realized I did not need to take my bike and looked for a place to set it down. I clumsily left it leaning on the fence near the mount line and began running back to T1. A lady had picked up my shoe and was assisting by meeting me half-way. One of the officials was yelling at her to stop and put the shoe down…not wanting me to get any outside assistance. We both ignored him. I grabbed the shoe and turned around; with 100m to cover to get back to the mount line. The official did not DQ me; for the outside assistance, probably feeling sorry for me as he watched my debacle drop me far from the pace. I got to the mount line after half a century and a little embarrassed at the comical scene the spectators had witnessed. As I stopped to put on the corrupt bike shoe, I was encouraged by lots of people and I needed this. It was a major blow to have my race unravel so suddenly and I knew my race had just gotten even harder…I was doomed to ride solo while my fast peers worked together in packs. I was frustrated the entire first two laps, disbelieving my misfortune. I was still determined to do my best and finish the race and I fretted that the leaders might lap me, meaning I would be pulled from the race. A sense of urgency took over my frustration and I focused on keeping them at bay. It was difficult mentally and physically to bike solo, not expecting to be in this situation. There was no let up, just a constant battle against the rough pavement, wind, and sharp corners. Forcing lots of accelerations and rarely if ever settling into a pace. I made it through the 5th lap without the leaders catching me; but they were not too far back. I was fatigued, the solo effort and the 6.5k run had taken a big toll on my legs. My last lap on the bike was difficult, my legs burning and asking for mercy. I felt like I had already ran plenty, yet I still had a 10k to do. Arrrgh, my legs were toast and I was way behind starting the run. All I could do at that point was finish the race albeit slowly I managed to do just that. Just like that my season had come to an unceremonious end but I was proud to have finished and satisfied with a healthy season filled with lots of racing all over the United States. Plus, there was some icing on the cake; finishing 4th in the Tri-California Elite Series and winning $1000. The accumulation of points from Wildflower, Escape from Alcatraz, Pacific Grove, Scott Tinley’s, and Treasure Island had netted me enough points for 4th place out of a very strong field of participants. I will enjoy some rest & relaxation but I have a bad taste in my mouth after that race….that’s always good foder for the long winter training months.
4th in Tri-California Pro SeriesStoryResults for Treasure Island
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