Paris Grand Prix 2009

 Video -> Grand Prix de Paris - 30 août 2009

August 30, 2009 Paris, France 4:00 pm.

Ending the summer racing season with a bang in Paris’s Grand Prix Triathlon was a reward for years of hard work.  While enjoying every step along the journey, today, Kevin’s training would be put to the ultimate test.  The world’s fastest triathletes stood with their toes curling over the starting pontoon ready to dive into the Seine.  He studied his emotions and thoughts from a far or from somewhere deep within.  Each breath took minutes, his eyes focused on the subtle currents and reflections in the water.  He studied the tree line with leaves shuffling in the slight breeze.  He felt electric with energy.  His heart beat forcefully and slowly and his muscles relaxed loosely yet ready to contract on the spot.  Today was the culmination of a dream.  Knowing his thoughts and emotions; there were no thoughts, only joy.

March 23, 2003 Boise, Idaho. 

Like most weekends, Kevin spent heaps of time watching sports on TV.  This Sunday was a particularly long day with eight games of the 2^nd round of NCAA’s March Madness.   Having won four national championships in NCAA swimming in his younger days, he was now living vicariously through these kids and reminiscing about the hard work, team play, and level of focus that comes with it.  Relating to the underdogs his heart rate jumped while 12^th ranked Butler was giving 4^th ranked Louisville all they could handle.  He was turning 28 in a couple days, moving him shockingly close to the ripe old age of 30.  This realization gave way to a sudden sense of urgency.  He considered himself active; playing water polo, whitewater kayaking, mountain biking, and skiing, yet adding 35 pounds to his frame from his standard 155 pounds in college was a sudden surprise.  Deep down, his soul yearned for a challenge and restlessness took over.  He did not want to pass his prime and be saying, “I could of, should of, would of…”  Lost in thought his mind drifted back to the TV as Butler started celebrating in grand fashion after having upset Mississippi State in a close first round game and now surpassing Louisville for a ticket to college basketball’s promised land; the Sweet 16.  It was exciting to see this team do the unthinkable and it no doubt paid tribute to hours of sweat and focused training.  While sitting on the couch seeing the joy in the Butler player’s faces, Kevin decided to stop being a spectator; it was time to feed the soul.

The next day, he went to Idaho Mountain Touring in what was to be an all day tour of the local bike shops to see what’s out there and get some price comparisons.  Thirty minutes later he was walking out of IMT with a striking yellow Trek Hilo TT.  It was a revelation to discover triathlon had its own style of bike; a time-trial bike (TT).  On Tuesday he turned 28 and celebrated with his first ‘road’ ride.  The speed was exhilarating.  Later that week the complexities of training for three sports at once sunk in.  He created a training log and started doing two-a-days (two practices a day) for the first time since March 1997.

May 8, 2004 Funchal, Madeira, Portugal. 

A whirlwind tour of local triathlons culminated in a startling 5^th place finish at USAT Nationals complete with a gratifying fastest swim split and qualifying slot to the World Championships in Madeira.  This turned out to be Kevin’s first trip off the North American continent and being accompanied by his fiancée made for a remarkable trip.  Again, having an excellent swim with the 2^nd fastest overall time of 18:43 (Tejero Vakquez Ivan from Spain passed Kevin in the last turn after enjoying the draft for 1400m) and being one of only three athletes to break 19 minutes (Joseph Gonzalez from the USA went 18:58 in the 20 – 24 age group).  Unfortunately, leading out the swim in a World Championship puts you in an all together new level on the bike and he had the displeasure of seeing close to 30 cyclists whiz by on the steepest hills he’d ever encountered.  Yet, the trip and sharing the experience with Hortense made for an amazing experience.  Watching Bevan Docherty edge out Ivan Rana in a brutal sprint finish for the World title the next day only emboldened his love for this new sport.  Kevin made two goals that day; to continue traveling and to toe the line and compete with the best athletes in the world.

August 30, 2009 Paris, France 2:55 pm.

Diving into the Seine to warm up, Paris came alive in a new realm.  The city transformed forever.  Taking a few leisure strokes while revealing in the comfortable temperature, Kevin couldn’t help but be stunned by the beauty of the river.  Swimming upstream against the soft current along the shore he passed several house boats.  Across the wide river to the other side a patio full of hungry patrons enjoyed a late lunch.  The day beckoned Parisians to come outside while basking in the warm sun and Kevin now found himself in the most desirable spot in all of Paris.  A barrier had been breached where the resonance of the city fell away.  It was calm, peaceful, and quiet with only the sound of water moving.  He noticed cars crossing over a bridge far up the river and was happy to be disassociated from that world.  Swimming in the Seine, preparing for the difficult challenge of racing many of the world’s best athletes, Kevin was thankful for the moment and focused on staying in it.

With close to 90 thorough-breeds including over 10 Olympians and the prevailing Alistair Brownlee (winning every World Cup race he entered so far in 2009) the race promised to be brutally fast.  Unfortunately, Saint Jean de Monts being ranked 13^th best team meant their spot along the start line was hugging the shore.  Swimming downstream in a weaker current and having to angle to the middle (where the top ranked teams where) to make the first buoy would prove influential.  Essentially, the teams on the left side of the start line had a head start.

The horn sounded and the weeks of envisioning a sound dive complete with a few dolphin kicks to propel Kevin ahead of his competitors vanished.  The combined thrust of 90 athletes diving into the water threw the pontoon backwards and he fell into the water with little impetus.  Coming up even, maybe slightly behind the field, he sprinted to get into some open water.  Being hindered by a swimmer on the left was difficult to cope with as these momentum killers slow you down and take up valuable energy.  Three groups started to form with the left side (middle of the river) taking the lead.  Saint Jean de Monts group on the far right had to start merging left to make the turn buoy.  Merging into a sea of froth made for tricky maneuvering.

Coming into the 180 turn is the most critical part of the swim.  The first 10 are barely impeded while the main group slows to a crawl trying to squeeze 40 athletes at once around the best line.  Not being in the elusive top 10, Kevin’s speed slowed as athletes hindered him from all directions.  Coming out of the corner he utilized a strong six-beat kick to start moving towards the front.  Swimming up current while other athlete’s endurance suffered, it was time for him to exploit his strength.  He began passing swimmers and felt his goal of finishing the swim in the top 10 and making a possible break-away in reach.

Exiting the water to start the 400 meter run to transition spikes the heart rate; the body suddenly upright.  Aurelien Rapheal ran by and hovered just in front of Kevin entering transition.  Rapheal, finishing 2^nd in the swim at Hamburg’s World Cup, was good company to be with.  Getting to Saint Jean de Monts bike rack all Kevin had to do was strap his helmet on and he was off and in contact with the first group.  But his fingers betrayed him as he fumbled with the strap not once, not twice, or even three times, finally on the fourth attempt it clicked.  Aurelien got out of T1 eleven seconds faster (in 11^th position) because of the mishap.  An eternity. 

Accelerating like a thief being chased by a hand-seeking man with a sword, Kevin operated in another dimension.  A pack had formed on the horizon about 150 meters ahead while his solo effort would have to match that of many.  The gap had to be closed and it had to be now.  Months of disciplined training poured out of the crank with each pedal stroke.  A calm determination focused on fierce breathing and a strong heart beat.  The muscles in the legs stayed supple until the exact moment a formidable firing was needed.  He enjoyed it.  The speed, the effort, the warm sun, the cool breeze, the sound of whipping through the wind, the challenge of chasing down a pack of many of the world’s best triathletes.  He was going to succeed because he loved what he was doing. 

A couple minutes later he enjoyed the ease of effort while sustaining the same speed of being in the pack.  Looking around the small group of ten bikers he was in some good company.  However, he noticed there were some key players missing from the group.  A lead group of nine had gotten away.

French Grand Prix’s are a team event.  Five racers start but only three count in the results.  Further, only one non-European is allowed to score.  Saint Jean de Monts had two Americans on the team and only one of them was going to count in the standings if both placed in the top three for the team.  For this reason Kevin’s main objective was  to domestique for the team.  If someone got a flat, they get his wheel; if the bike had a problem they get his bike.  He was also to speed up or slow down a pack depending on who from the team was in it.

Only Alfred and Kevin made the second pack so Kevin sat in for the next two laps awaiting a development or instructions from his coaches.  In the 3^rd lap the third chase group bridged up to the second and now Nicolas and Ethan were together with their teammates as well as about 50 other racers.  Having most of the team together, Kevin could now drive the pace to limit the loss to the first pack.  For much of the 4^th lap he pressed the pace, even pulling away from everyone.  Upon seeing his gap he eased off the pedals and coasted.

The pack was loaded with world class athletes and too many fast runners saving their legs.  Apart from those lead 9 racers this Grand Prix was coming down to a total foot race.  The last lap was a dangerous one with everyone surging to the front but not wanting to be on the front.  It would have been easy enough to get there but the timing had to be just right to get around the swath of cyclists.  Kevin managed to get in the top part of the group and have a much improved transition.  Guys like Tim Don, Sebastian Rank, Tony Moulai, Filip Ospaly, Steffen Justus and Gregory Rouault (to name a few) took off at a scorching pace on their way to sub 15 minute 5k times!  Alfred passed him a couple minutes into the run and then Ethan (the other American) passed around the 1k mark essentially ending Kevin’s race as a potential scorer.

Nicolas was now the third man for Saint Jean de Monts as far as the scoring went.  Kevin held up so that he might pace and physical push Nicolas to the finish.  He did this for about 2k until Nicolas had had enough and asked Kevin to, “Go”.  With a sublte surge he went away but the will to fight to the finish was no longer there.  Instead just lingering in front of Nicolas, quietly urging him forward.

He had competed with the best athletes in the world in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.  Kevin crossed the finish with a soul felt smile.   

Results

A video from last year’s race: Paris Grand Prix 2008

Transcending Fears

Let us define fear in this context; ‘an unpleasant feeling of anxiety or apprehension caused by the presence or anticipation of danger’.

Saint Mary’s Day 2009

Sallertaine, France August 15, 3:43pm After just pumping up my rear tire I was dismayed to see it go flat.  With only 15 minutes to the race, it became a mad dash to find out why, and fix it.  Ten minutes later it seemed the valve extender on the deep dish wheel was letting out air; unscrewing it after filling up the tire should be the ‘fix’.  The race will be commencing any second and I had yet to visit the transition area. 

Heading to transition with everyone else lining up at the start line forced me to hurry.  Two elderly gentlemen would not let me pass.  I searched out Dede, “Tu avez mon nombre?” Repeating a few times before he understood my poor accent, he smiled and supplied said number.  Then, I asked Hortense if she could attach it to a race belt for me.  This got me through transition and I took off my flip flops and put on my running flats half expecting the race gun to go off.  But wait, another official came up to me and explained that I could not use a race belt and it was an obligation to pin the number to my shirt.  Starting to get flustered, in my haste, the number tore while taking it off the race belt.  Hortense and I pinned the number to my wet and sweaty shirt.  Pheeew, there was no doubt I would make the start.

“Who needs a warm up when it is close to 40C” I convinced myself.  Without thinking about it, I was about to face one of my fears; Running fast in heat and humidity.

Pushing your limits is one reason we all race, no one ever thinks they will push themselves to death.  It used to be so for me.  A trend was developing in humid races, hurting me to the point of needing medical attention right after.  My 5^th ‘occurrence’ of running hard in humidity landed me in St. Anthony’s Hospital. A painful and traumatic experience to not remember the last 2 miles of a 6 mile run only to have your brain shut off, sending you to the pavement, within sight of the finish.  I survived but my will under similar circumstances was understandably defeated.  Yet, the human spirit is persistent and amazing in its ability to overcome our fears.  These challenges enrich our lives and make us better.   

Sallertaine 4:22pm The pavement radiated heat and the breezes did little to alleviate the roasting sensation.  This settled the pace to a degree but the lead group had dwindled down to five.  We turned into the field for the second time and we ran single file in the barely distinguishable goat trail.  In the first lap I was stunned to be tramping through a field leaping over clumps of grass while running on uneven ground and scanning for the best line.  I had not expected the adventure through a farmers pasture but enjoyed the surprise.  Now, in the second lap, running single file I contemplated what to do about my race number flapping; being torn off from the wind and hanging on by one pin.  “Nothing” I thought, “there’s nothing to be done while running like this.”  The intensity of the pace and the heat brought me back to navigating the farmer’s field. 

“It’s bloody hot” I said aloud to the other lead runners as we came to a narrow bridge over a ditch.  The bridge being made of just one bowed board of wood made for a tricky passing. 

Entering transition on the heels of some very good runners, namely Adam Fitzakerley and Kristian McCartney, put me in great position starting the bike.

In Saint Jean de Monts team van in route to Sallertaine 3:20pm  Adam, Kristian and I joked about some unfortunate encounters with French referees.   “My streak ended last week with the aquathon” I explained to them as we drove to the start of the duathlon.  The first 5 races in France have all had serious ‘mishaps’, from red cards and wrong turns, to wetsuits being unzipped and stop-&-go penalties.  Some of them my fault, others just part of racing.  Finally, my 6^th race in Jard sur Mer had no mistakes.  “I’m starting a new streak today”. 

Sallertaine 4:34pm The head referee held out his hand and blew his whistle at me.  “Oh no, the race number”, I thought, forgetting the not so little problem. I protested but he insisted my number be displayed properly before I continue the race.  Already 20 to 30 seconds behind I let my bike fall to the ground needing two hands for the delicate surgery of pinning my wet and torn race number to my shirt.  It made me angry to have to disrespect my bike like that.  It seemed crazy to be standing in place carefully undoing the safety pins, trying not to prick myself.  I hurried too much and focused too little on the art of number pinning while racing.  Finished, I spread my arms out in jest.  The ref shook his head no.  I had failed miserably,  not only was the number upside down it was backwards showing nothing.  Dismayed, I picked up my bike and nicely set it down against a guard rail.  It didn’t make me feel much better, it just took more time.  Thinking out loud I said, “This is ridiculous”.  Hortense calmed me down and eventually I pinned my number correctly.  After what felt like a lifetime, and wondering if I should even continue the ref let me start biking. 

A few miles into the bike ride it became obvious that it was only a matter of time before my race number became litter on the side of the road.  I tore it off and put it in my back pocket.  Riding suspicious of the many referees, kept me crouching low on my bike whenever I saw one.  I felt like an outlaw. 

 Abandoning my original plan to ease into the bike on this hot day, I rode hard right from the start.  Riding somewhere in the top 15 I tried to pick off some bikers and focus on at least getting a good effort in.  Race situations are outstanding for keeping your skills sharp and boosting your performance for later.  Honing in on my pedal stroke I drank lots of fluids and flew in the heat.

In Saint Jean de Monts team van in route to Sallertaine 3:25pm  Being from a swimming background I’ve had to learn, be patient, and train smart to bring my running up to speed with my peers.  “This is less than an ideal situation for me, a duathlon, with good runners, in hot and humid weather, kind of a nightmare situation for me” I joked with the guys in the van while we kidded around about winning the ham that went to the top 3 finishers.  To be honest, in the past, fear would creep into the situation, today, I felt up for the challenge. 

Sallertaine 5:12pm My cycling legs showed up and turned my race around in a hurry.  Within about 13k of a 30k bike ride I had caught all but the lead biker.  Even a driver that got on the course, drove too slow and then stopped the car, forcing me to come to a screeching halt didn’t bother me.  It was a chance to work on some accelerating. 

Getting off the bike and running out of transition to start the second 5k run left me wondering if I would have another encounter with the ref.  After all, my number was in my back pocket.  He was waiting for me.  I smiled and took the number out of my back pocket and he let me go!  Wow, what was all the fuss about earlier?  Ah well, time to tackle a hot run.  I felt fit, fast and in control.  Although with the hot temperatures it was good to be running solo at exactly my comfortably fast pace.  Just two more times through the goat field and I could cool off and maybe win some ham.

That night the crew celebrated at the Coliseum with good spirits, fireworks, and ice cream.  Saint Mary’s day is a big holiday in France and the crowds were out late; we enjoyed the sea-breeze-summer-night-air with them. 

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Jard sur Mer Aquathon, France 3:30pm August 9. Dede drove Adam, Hortense and I about an hour south to Jard sur Mer, a village town in Vendee right on the coast.  Feeling spent from a tough week of training both Adam and I opted out of the scheduled 3.5 hour bike ride in order to perform at a higher level for the race.  Our race did not start until 6:30 pm so we had a lazy lead up, lounging near the house all day. 

It should be called the Runathon with 3 short dips in the bay to cool off.  The format is three swim/run combinations with a short (10 min) break between.  1^st race: 200m swim / 1.5k run (one lap on swim & run course).  2^nd race: 200m swim / 3k run.  3^rd race 400m swim / 3k run (two laps on swim & run course).  Worth noting is the 110m run sprint to the water to start off each race.  Wanting to work on my run ability, this proved the perfect race.

Jard sur Mer 6:30 pm.  Starting the first 110 sprint to the water it was all I could do to keep the horde from running me over.  Everyone seemingly overzealous to blast off from the word go.  After 100 meters and being engulfed by the crowd we all took a hard left turn and ran down a boat ramp to the water’s edge.  Some navigated this corner better than others, I took it conservatively and still nearly pushed Adam over while I drifted wide through it.  “Sorry!” I yelled as I scanned the water for a safe place to dive.  Six or seven athletes were already churning up the bay.  Diving left of the group; a few streamlined dolphin kicks put me near the front.  Managing to get behind one of the Roy brothers by the first turn around the pace was comfortable while drafting the corner.  Coming back I made a move to pass but he held tough until the last turn where I edged him out.

Running up the boat ramp heading back to transition slowed the progress and spiked the heart rate.  I had a good transition but Adam smoked it and actually left just before me to start the run.  We took off at a blistering pace.  Adam is an excellent runner; I knew this would be an opportunity to move me closer to that status.

Forest’s of Saint Jean de Monts August 6, 10:49am.  The smell of fresh pine permeated the air; the rain refreshed the land and my body and my breathing played a strong chord with the beat of my feet as I flowed over rolling terrain.  Breathing in copious amounts of air filled my lungs with just enough to keep my body hurtling through the forest.   It was the freshest of sea breezes, eternal in its revitalization.  The pine needles on the trail softened the blow of my feet striking the earth and sometimes soft sand would absorb much of my forward progress.  The trees flew by, yet finer details of many were taken up by my senses.  The bark, the green needles, the leaves, the girth, the ancient age, the roots in the trail and the smell.  I heard bird calls, saw rain falling from the clouds and delighted at the site of vibrant flowers.  The subtle but somehow intense smell of the sea and pine needles mesmerized my soul and I ran on.  I ran hard.  I ran fast. 

Jard sur Mer 6:38 pm.  Coming down the finishing stretch my body flew on two legs like few get to experience.  I felt fortunate to have kept Adam just a few seconds in front of me.  The run had been a breakthrough for me and I tasted blood as proof.

Doing a mental check of the body I realized just how hard these next two races were going to be.  Intense, flat out efforts.  Perfect test for a body, mind and soul in training.

Just ten minutes later after several cups of cola and water we were in another mad dash to the water’s edge.  Fairing a little better but still diving into the water behind several athletes, I was able to pull into the lead before the turn around.  Feeling strong but not fast I exited the water with a small gap.  This time, just getting out of transition before Adam.  It wasn’t until cresting a hill and taking a sharp descending turn that he accelerated away from me.  Starting the second lap he was still holding that same gap but he increased it again on the same corner.  Adam finished a solid first place and I came in with another genuine run about fifteen seconds back.

In a routine now, I walked over to the refreshment stand and hydrated while coaxing my body into a quick recovery.

Forest’s of Saint Jean de Monts August 6, 11:03am.  Nearing the end of a broken six kilometers of fast running I had IT.  Yes… IT.  That thing which we all yearn for.  The reason people climb mountains, base-jump off bridges, go to church, kite board, pray, dance, take photos, surf the web, kayak…that natural state, most of us have lost.  The state of connectedness with something incalculable and permanent something that, strangely enough is essentially you and yet much greater than you.  Sometimes we get forced into the moment…the ever present moment to a degree that brings beauty, love, creativity, joy, and peace.  Many endurance athletes refer to it as ‘The Zone’.  Running through the forests along the coast of the French Atlantic seemed an intimate and ancient experience.  Running this fast ensures a high degree of suffering, yet I was thriving.  The air was alive, the forest was alive, I was alive and running for my life.  A heightened state of awareness, feeling my surroundings and my body.  Yes, my body was tired, suffering even, but accepting it gave me energy to keep going. 

Taping into this kind of power is easy, quiet your mind, accept your situation and be present.  This simple formula has no end to its depth.

Jard sur Mer 6:52 pm.  It took almost the whole first lap of the last swim for me to take the lead.  Overcoming a lethargic dash to the water, being tired from the first two races was the culprit.  I enjoyed the clean water on the 2^nd lap and Adam and I had a sizeable gap starting the last run.  We both kept the pace honest and finished up much like the 2^nd race.  I won all the swims and finished 2^nd in each race while Adam won every race with the fastest run.  I am thrilled with how I ran and appreciate having a teammate push me to the limits.  We are both going to have some very good races in the coming weeks.  The short intense races are just the ingredient needed for our success in French Grand Prix racing.

Better quality photos HERE

Today, an Aquathon has me primed for racing again.  It feels like a long time since my last event but, actually, I only had one weekend away from racing.  Without a race, training picked up.  My focus is on the Paris Grand Prix on August 30.  A 750m, 20k, 5k triathlon.  Calling it a ‘sprint triathlon’ is a misnomer.  Ask any swimmer training for anything at or over a 400m or a runner training for a 5k.  They will assure you, they are not training for ‘sprinters’ events.  The ‘sprint’ triathlon takes an hour (for pros); give or take 5 min depending on the course.  Racing for that long takes massive amounts of endurance.  Yes, there is power, anaerobic threshold, and sprinting involved but the underlying limiter is endurance.  Hence, this last week was my biggest training week ever!  I’m in my 6^th year doing triathlons and before that swam for a national champion level swim team as a distance swimmer and never have I done 28.5 hours of training in one week.  All this, for a ‘sprint’ triathlon. I am 34 years old, yet I feel like I am 18 again.

The journey towards the grand prix race is invigorating.  A challenge that keeps me on my toes every step of the way.  When 90 accomplished athletes take the starting line, there is no getting away.  Javier Gomez came close at Tours winning by 20 seconds.  Yet, for the majority of his race it was shoulder to shoulder, tooth and nail, cardio power fighting.  Apart, from Gomez, the top 20 all came to the finish within seconds of each other.  There, in lies, the true meaning of pushing your limits.  Unless you are one of the most dominant triathletes on the planet, you are guaranteed to be pushed to the max, with 5 or 6 guy’s right there with you.  Mental clarity, focus & belief become paramount.  You will reach your max and then be asked, “Do I have any more?”

Enjoying the process is my theme, whatever the situation; enhancing the moment and accepting it for what it is.  Much joy lies in this realm.  Riding, running, and swimming for hours a day with always more to do can lead to anticipation of finishing this or that set.  But the true power lies in being present.  This is something swimming has done for me for years and its one reason I love doing it…no matter the crappy pool or the choppy ocean surf or the super strong currents.  Getting in and focusing can actually turn what looks to be a bad workout into the best you’ve had.

Sometimes the most unexpected situations bring on intense tranquil and soothing moments.  Many routes out of Saint Jean de Monts are fun for biking but I’m getting hooked on riding to Noirmountier  Riding in the rain earlier this week, late in the day and near dusk helped keep me focused.  It was a cool, windy and rainy day.  It was comforting to just lay in the house and read with my feet up and my body warm and dry.  But I had a 3 hour bike ride scheduled.  Waiting for as long as possible at 6:30 pm I set off on my ride.  The clouds were dark and stormy, the wind was gusty, the sun was signing off on the day and the rain went from slight drizzle to serious down pour.  The ride was outstanding.  I attribute this to the elements keeping me in tune with my immediate surroundings.   

The week has been full of wonderful events and lots of hard training that just feels fun.  I’m stunned to have trained so much while feeling so good.  It will be fun to move my body over land and sea in a few hours… as fast as I can.

Running for my life…

Here’s to running for yours too…      

Race Briefing

L’Aiguillon, France, is situated in the bay just above La Rochelle on the Atlantic coast, the drive took us about 2 hours from Saint Jean de Monts.  Our race did not start until 4pm and arriving at 1pm gave us plenty of time to relax.  We enjoyed some down time, picnic style, around the lake with many of our fellow competitors.  

With the temperature rising, jumping into the refreshing lake water seemed like the best thing to do.  Taking the plunge, the immediate taste of salt water surprised me; but of course, one could easily toss a stone into the bay from here.  Feeling like a kid at the park, I swam my warm up.

At the start line I conferred with several officials and competitors as to what route the swim took.  Getting three different answers, I asked again and again looking for some conformity or authority.  I found it when the motor boat did the course just before we started.

Feeling a little too relaxed I ran into the water with the group but within 100 meters pulled into the lead with one other swimmer.  We drag raced side by side to the turn buoy, where I made my move.  I love a strong negative split.  Speeding up I turned right to head for the finish.  Pierre, the other lead swimmer did not follow but some other unlucky swimmer did.  Asking the kayaker which way, it became obvious when he shouted and pointed to another buoy.  Ouch…I had just swam 25m off course and now had to go back.  Now, barely in the top 10, I sprinted to regain some places.  Making up some good time with a hard effort put me back in 2^nd not too far off Pierre.

Charging onto the bike I made it a point to take the lead before putting my cycling shoes on.  I wanted to make the first group hard to get into and so pushed the pace.  After 1 kilometer, three riders made the lead pack with another rider looking like he would bridge up.  With Adam, my teammate, in the group race tactics favored us.

Having an intense training week did not leave me fresh for this race.  Using this race to continue improving my accelerations played out well at each turn around.  Getting out of the saddle and sprinting at all three helped develop some speed for the next Grand Prix in Paris.

The group stopped working well together seeing our lead grow to a comfortable margin.  Adam and I used this to our advantage.  Attacking after Pierre had done some work (with the other guy not ever doing any), Adam held up not wanting to bridge the other three up to a teammate.  In the last 3 to 4k my gap grew to between 20 and 30 seconds but I maxed out my legs in the effort.  I knew this would be helpful for Adam because this would keep him from having to do any work and force the other two to bridge up.

Having a sizable lead coming into T2, it seemed that I would be running in the lead for a while.  Wrong, Adam came up like a freight train, rumbling in behind me almost immediately.  He sped off to victory at a superior running tempo and I did my best to hold off the other two.  However, Pierre’s swiftness overtook mine.  He actually kept Adam honest to the finish while I finished comfortably behind them.

Thanks Hortense for the photos and support.  Also thanks to Mom & Dad who had to leave right after the race (and long award ceremony) to drive 5 plus hours back to Paris to catch their plane. 

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