Race lead up:
I headed into the race, not in bad shape, but with a lack of health and fitness that went into the TTF. I had been slightly sick in the week before the race and just wasn't finding myself getting the extra sleep I needed to recover. On top of this, my shin problem had been getting increasingly worse up to the point where I had to stop my weekly speed workouts and seriously cut back on the lengths and efforts of my runs. I even ended up running on my treadmill for the extra cushion (treadmill in August? Blasphemy!). Luckily, I was able to get it to the point where I could at least race on it and not ruin my entire season.
After flying to Toronto, I took the Robert Q to London where I stayed at my cousin's place for the night. Detroit is only about 3 hours away from London, accounting for time to cross the border, and the pre-race briefing did not start until 5:30pm so I got to sleep in before leaving London. Personally, I find the sleep I get two nights before the race is just as, if not more important than the sleep I get the night before. I don't find there is any increase in fatigue after one night of lack of sleep, which can be very likely when you aren't sleeping in your own bed, when you are nervous, and so on. Luckily this wasn't the case for me and I got a regular nights sleep the night before.
After getting to the briefing early to hear Barb Lindquist talk about her experience and give her advice, I sat through the briefing, checked out the course on my bike, found some food and went to bed.
Race Day:
My nerves weren't through the roof race morning but I was as nervous as I'd ever been for a race. This would be the first time I was racing to compete and not just to improve on time or to follow a specific race plan. I had my typical breakfast, did a run warm up at the race site and just took in everything that was going on. We (my uncle and I) got there pretty early for good parking so there was no rush for anything.
Swim (10:08 - 11th):
The plan for the swim was to get out hard, find some feet, and hold on for dear life. I have confidence in my swimming ability, but I haven't been swimming as much and as consistently as would have been required to be near the front so I knew it wouldn't be easy. It was a beach start and I chose a bad position. There was a pretty nasty current, once you got into the deeper water (which wasn't until halfway to the first buoy), which pulled you to the left of the buoy and you need to make a left turn (going around the right side, keeping it to your left). I knew about the current before hand, but I didn't really think it through much, or know any better. It was my first time racing in such a big current after all. I also misjudged how long the shallow section was, starting to swim a few dolphin dives too early. I did manage to get on some feet for a short period of time though and although I thought I was well back, it turns out I was in about 8th or 9th into the first turn. Once into the current (with the current), it was nice not having to worry too much about the line, but the water was still quite choppy. I think I probably had a little advantage here, being more comfortable in the water. One thing I started to notice near the end, was that I was having a hard time exhaling enough air to take in a "full" breath when my head was out of the water. Coming into shore I got passed by another guy, who I stuck with for a bit, but who ended up about 10 seconds up on me by the time we got out of transition. For the rest of the race, I was no man's land, as per usual. My final failure to execute on the swim was on the exit. As with the start, it was fairly shallow for quite a distance, but it was deep enough that you couldn't really run either. The best option would have been 3 to 5 dolphin dives (maybe more), but I did two and tried to run which lost me a bit of time.
T1 (0:26 - tied for 22nd):
Alex said this would be the fastest I've ever ran. I think the picture is self explanatory. Getting onto the bike however, I failed at a semi-flying mount. I got up and over, although at a relatively slow speed, but my right foot slipped off the pedal (which I later found out cut me a little).
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| Is this hard enough Alex? |
Bike (30:28 - 28th/last):
Alex has been doing his best to get me some race simulation for draft-legal racing and I've definitely worked my butt off on the bike, but nothing could have prepared me for this, other than racing itself. Being a development race, there weren't any distinctive packs, mostly just groups of 2-6 people. I think my uncle said the biggest "pack" he saw was 6 people (of which I was 1 at the time). I came out of transition too far back to catch anyone so I made sure to get a little ways out, get my shoes on, and go hard enough to not have the next group of guys come flying by before I could hop on a wheel. The entire race I was on and off wheels, rarely getting any chance at all to catch my breath (really hadn't since coming out of the water). I hung on to each group for anywhere from 30 seconds to 2 mins, even getting a chance to take a pull and get a little rest in one group of 3. By the end, I was at least 2 gears down from where I had started (no power meter), the final group had long passed and were now 30+ seconds ahead and I had buried the needle well beyond the red line. It was somewhere near here, on the bike, where I couldn't help but think: "This isn't fun anymore. Even in the slightest." I was getting my ass handed to me and I couldn't do a single thing about it. The only ones behind me now were a few age group athletes who were doing draft legal. I was out of my league.
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| That one, time I was in a pack |
T2 (0:23 - tied for 4th):
Coming into transition I knew I had to see what I had on the run. The race was still far from over and for all I knew a second wind was coming. I got in and out of here as fast as I could and just tried to stick to race simulation, which was go out above race pace. I think the only reason I managed such a fast transition was that I came off the bike fast and alone which gave me a little breathing room. In all honesty though, the dismount was probably a little excessive on the speed side.
Run (21:28 - last by a mile):
I tried going out hard as planned. Everything was stiff, muscles were sore, breathing was near impossible and I found out the definition of blowing up the hard way. If you picture blowing up literally, I felt like I blew up so hard that any trace that I'd ever existed blew up with me. I was done. I'd had enough of the race. I'd had enough of competitive racing. I felt like I was running nearly 6 min/km. My first race beat me to the ground and damn near kept me there. The only thing I could think of at this point was: "Run until you find someone with a radio so they can contact the race director that I had dropped out." The first turn came, along with the first volunteer. No radio in sight. I guess I'll crawl to the next one. Again, no radio in sight. The race leader is starting to lap me now. A quick pat on the back as he goes by. Awfully sportsman like. The next one comes by: "Keep it up." My breath is slowly coming back to me. I run by some spectators, somehow thinking that the approaching mess of an athlete was in third. I wish. Almost done the first lap, I start getting some energy back. Thoughts of quitting long gone, I'm ready to finish now. I go by the penalty box and thank god I didn't get a penalty. The third place finisher now passes me as he sprints through transition and down the finish. He must've thought he was sprinting for third. All of the sudden I'm back where I started, but with the energy I would expect to be able to run with at the end of a race. I've caught my breath, I've loosened up, and now I'm finding my rhythm. I can finish this. I don't have to DNF. I'm going to finish. For the rest of the run I just kept it strong. I got passed by another age grouper, but it didn't matter anymore. In 2.5km, I went from quitting competitive sport and the race, to running strong and finishing. I look at the clock coming into transition and see that I'm going to be under 1:03:00. I cross at 1:02:55. The nightmare's over.
Post Race:
After keeping the vomit down with some water at the finish I walked around the finish area for a bit. Still too tired for food. I ended up meeting the other Canadian in the race, Gallacher Patterson. We chatted for a bit about the race and then I walked around with my uncle watching the few EDR women, watching the age groupers, grabbing food and the like. I went for a cool down (which I don't usually do) and after 2 mins of jogging in the rough, uneven grass, I roll my ankle for the second time during the week. Fantastic. Maybe it was a sign. No more cool downs for me!
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| Got that right |
This was a huge learning experience for me, and, although it seemed like the end of the world at the time, for the most part it was pretty positive. A lot of reflection went into this race, but I decided I'm not going to give up yet. If I was really meant to give up, why didn't any of the volunteers have radios? What about the encouragement from the other athletes? Not only on the run, but during the bike, trying to get me to push and work together. The performance felt awful and even though I set a PB by eight and a half minutes, the course was 100% flat by my standards, on both the run and bike, and I'm fairly sure that both courses were short to some extent. I didn't get to bring out the run fitness I've built up over the past few months either so I've only got one shot left at my next race in Lakeside. It will be another Olympic but this is where I set my sprint PB two years ago so hopefully I turn up in good health and can do so once again.
Until next time,
Matt Mahaffy
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