My First Bike Race

I've been thinking about doing a bike race for a long time.  Something about the testosterone-fueled breakaways, the cat-and-mouse strategy, and of course all that spandex just appeals to a guy.

So when I heard about the Waffle Training Races at Fellow's Lake, on a course I'm already familiar with, it seemed like a no-brainer.  Especially since several friends said they would be there to reduce my apprehension from racing against all of the scary, serious road cyclists.  (...who were probably going to laugh at me because I'm a triathlete and that's just how it goes with cyclists and triathletes.  Even if we look better in spandex than they do).

Me, Jim Farasy, and Jeff Del Vecchio.  Jim won the Yellow Waffle jersey from Race #1 of the series so Jeff and I had to get our picture with a real cyclist before the race!

Part of the motivation to do this race is because I joined a semi-formal cycling team this Spring called Team Sub-4.  The Goal if Team Sub-4, sponsored by Springfield Brewco (the best brewery/restaurant in town) is to ride the Hotter Than Hell (HHH) 100 mile bike ride in August in less than 4 hours (yes, averaging 25mph).  The event is notoriously hot (hence the name), but fairly flat and with few turns.  We have a pretty big group of people committed to doing it, and with 20+ people taking turns "pulling" at the front it might happen.  Several friends do it every year.  It's so hot that they have tons of cots laid out with IV drips ready.  They say you get an IV when you are done and you feel like a million bucks.

If you have a spouse who thinks you are dumb for doing endurance sports, this is what they are talking about.  My wife likes to tell me that running and cycling are not real sports.  She plays real sports, like volleyball and softball.  Hmm.  Anyway, back on track.

I figure doing races like these will motivate me to train harder, and if nothing else, make me a little stronger.  Or I will crash and break my collar bone and not have to worry about HHH.

My BFF Jeff Del Vecchio and I drove up together planning our strategy.  We felt very confident because Jeff has watched a lot of the Tour de France on TV and I like bike shops.  Osmosis.

Road races are a set distance, but different from triathlons in that drafting is legal.  If you ever watch a bike race, there's usually a ton of drafting until someone decides to try to break away.  Or they all just sprint at the end to see who wins.  Part of me thinks this is kind of a weenie way to race since in a triathlon you win if you are the strongest.  But it's also kind of intriguing since you actually have to think strategy instead of just suffering by yourself for an hour or five.

I suggested we sit in the pack and draft as much as possible.  Jeff kept saying, "what if we just take off and drop the pack?"  I kept replying, "that would hurt way too much and besides, they would catch us."  Then he would say, "but what if we just took off?" This exchange went on maybe 10 times.  Jeff is an Ironman triathlon, a good cyclist (better than me), and has not raced this year yet so I suspected that might get him in trouble (it would).

Jeffy and I arrived on site to find the good old A and B Cycle trailer set up.  We registered and got our numbers pinned to our jerseys.

Our inexperience was apparent from the start as neither of us pinned the number of right.  They were way too flappy, which is frankly unacceptable at a bike race.  Fortunately, our hero Jim Farasy noticed the error and fixed them for us.

                 

Thanks Jim!

Race management contacted me via Facebook in advance, knowing I was a triathlete, to remind me that shirts are required in bike races.  Boo.  I asked if I could wear a Speedo and remarkably, they said yes.  So this means you can wear a Speedo in a cycling race as long as you have a shirt on.  I find this really odd and kind of funny.

PS - My Ironman buddy Kurt requested this photo.  I don't know why - something about for his personal collection.  He is the Team Sub-4 mgr and is in charge of PR.  Is that the right lighting, K?  

Jeff I are were so excited that we couldn't stop taking pictures!

We also kept following Jim around asking him questions, such as "are you going to bring water bottles, Jim?",  "Aren't they are really heavy?", "Should i wear compression socks, Jim?", "What if we just take off at the very start, Jim?" and "What are the rules, Jim?"

The race started with an A group and a B group.  The A group is for serious cyclists.  They are not afraid to blow snot rockets into the pack, called your mother dirty names, or throw elbows.  Too scary for us so we started a couple minutes later with the B group.

There were about 20 in each group.  Our group had to do 2 loop around the lake, which is 22 miles total. Not knowing what to expect, we took off...and it was like a slow group ride.  Totally awesome!  We all just stuck together in a big group and pedaled into the blustery wind.  Every once in a while, someone (ahem, John Bradley) would get a little antsy and go off the front a bit, but it was too windy and the group had too much of an advantage.  

So we did the first lap relatively easily, although I noticed that Jeff was spending a lot of time at the front of the pack.  Since I'm not very comfortable drafting closely, I hung at the back of the pack.  It was annoying because every once in a while I'd start thinking about the flowers or hey there's a squirrel!, and then suddenly I'd be 15 feet off the back and have to push hard to get back in the draft.  

The end of the loop has a pretty steep 100yd climb that we all call the Dam Hill because it's by the dam for the lake.  I call it the damn hill because it makes me say damn a lot.  The concrete man triathlon takes place on this same course every July and several people usually get off and walk.  So it's not for weenies.  

I was hoping the group would slowly spin up it but they pushed it a bit.  I guess they were hoping some of the weaker riders would get shelled.  Getting shelled means you lose touch with the pack and lose the aerodynamic benefits so you're pretty much done for the day.  I didn't expect to win the race and just wanted to see how long I could last before getting shelled.

I guess we might have lost a couple people because the pack was down to around 13-ish people as we started the second lap.  One guy was riding next to me and was really tired...he kept veering a couple feet from side to side on each pedal stroke.  Weird - a guy who handled his bike even worse than me!

At this point, I started getting antsy.  I was just sure that people were going to start attacking.  But fortunately, everyone stayed together for a few more miles.  Around halfway into the 2nd lap, I think a couple people broke off the front.  Jason Holland, Neil Chanter, and another guy or two.  Maybe 3 guys from our Team Sub-4.  Here's where strategy comes in.  If you are on the same team and you are in the chase pack, you are supposed to get to the front and slow it down so your team can break away from the pack.  So your team can win.

Well I had no clue.  So I moved up to the front of the chase pack, next to wily veteran adventure racer John Bradley, to make sure we could bridge if the pack decided to go hard.  John is also a member of Team Sub-4 although I forgot it at the time because he wasn't wearing his team jersey.  John didn't seem to want to go up to the pack, which was weird because he was easily strong enough to do it.  I think I asked him if we should bridge and he didn't say anything.  As I write this now, I realize it's because he was being a good teammate.  Hey, it all makes sense now!!!  Haha.  Oh well.

I decided to go up to the pack and of course because I'm a dumbass I invited another kid (Austin Lear) to jump behind me and I'd pull him up too.  I had been drafting off him for a couple miles so I thought it was good manners to offer that. 

At the front Jason Holland was doing most of the work and getting tired.  He fell back to the chase pack.  I don't know if he followed me and Austin up, but another mile or so later we had around 5-7 of us together.  We went down a really steep hill with an S-curve at the bottom and suddenly there was another guy or two.

At this point, I was shocked no one had decided to hammer it in.  I didn't know if they were tired or just being smart but I knew my sprint sucks so I had to make a move.  So about a mile from the finish, right before the last right hand turn on the course, when the two guys in front of me spread apart a few feet, I decided to go for it.  I sprinted through the gap, around the corner, and then down the last straightaway before the damn hill.  

I couldn't tell if they were on my back or a ways back so I rode as hard as I could and hit the hill strong.  After the race, they all told me that I had about a 100 yard lead at the bottom of the hill and that they all were just sure the race was over.  I mean, how do you lose a 100 yard lead so close to the finish?  

I hammered up the hill and was really strong...for the first half.  But about that time, my heart rate hit 345 beats per minute and my legs went from steel pistons to Jell-O.  They would later say they could see a mushroom cloud emitting from my helmet as I blew up in historic fashion.

                                            

This is what it felt like

One guy in the pack in a Wal-Mart jersey from Arkansas, Ben Craig, floored it and passed me about 2/3 the way up the hill.  By the time I crested the hill, he had 100 yards on me and the pack was close behind.  I gave it all I could in the final 150 meters and was able to barely hold off Austin for 2nd.  Maybe he was being nice for pulling him up to the pack on the second loop.  

4th through 7th were Fred Brand (Team Sub-4), Neil Chanter (Sub-4), John Bradley (Sub-4), Jason Holland (Sub-4).  Jeff rolled in 9th.  I have no doubt he or Jason Holland would have won if they had sat in the pack more.  Results are here.

After the race, we watched the A's finish and talked about how much fun it was now that we were done.  The operative part of that statement is being done. 

Survivors

So in summary, bike racing is fun and hard.  There's a strategic component that is interesting.  This is a nice opportunity for rubes to come out and give it a try for pretty cheap.  Hope to see more triathletes out next week.

PS - Don't tell Neil that I ruined the team's breakaway.  He's English and he's oddly serious about cycling.  I mean "500-word-bi-weekly-team-emails-about-cycling-serious." 

Ironman Canada 2011 Race Report

This is a bit different type of post that I normally use on this blog, but many of my friends are interested in hearing about the race and others may glean some knowledge on how NOT to race an Ironman.  

Ironman Canada is one of the most historic, spectacular, and well known Ironmans in the world.  It is also a notoriously difficult race in which to gain entry.  It was a no-brainer when five of us from Springfield had an opportunity to sign up last summer.   OK, mostly a no-brainer…the $600+ entry fee was a little ridiculous.  I’m not completely sure why people (myself included) pay so much to destroy themselves for 8-17 hours, but the race production company sure does make you feel like a rock star while you’re doing it.

While it would be my second full distance triathlon, it would be the first for all of my friends (as seen on a detour while scouting the bike course - from left: Kurt Larson, Dave Smay, me, Valerie Sharlin, and Ken Sharlin). 

Everything at an Ironman is spectacularly well organized, from packet pickup to the pasta dinner to the race itself.   Because of the number of athletes, you have to drop your bike off the day before the race.  You also have to organize all of your gear into five separate bags that will be used throughout the race (morning bag, swim-bike bag, bike-run bag, bike special needs bag, and run special needs bag).  

If you are the Type A planner, then you will love this.  If not, then an Ironman is pretty much a logistical nightmare (see left). 

I arrived race morning, got body marked, checked my bags one last time, and meandered down to the water.  With what turned out to be 2800+ athletes on race day and too many spectators to count, this was easier said than done.  2800 athletes also turned out to be the largest mass swim start in history.  As opposed to most triathlons, which usually use time trial or wave starts, all athletes at an Ironman start at once.  So the swim can be a pretty scary experience…you just can’t put that many people together and expect no contact. 

Get out early or it gets ugly

The gun started and I have to say the 2.4 mile swim was pretty uneventful.  Some mild contact, but I just focused on drafting behind others to conserve energy.  I lined up on the far left end of the beach where all of the athletes looked freaked out.  I think this was the key, because the ones with a “kill” look in their eyes are the ones who do the pummeling in a swim.  Although I got pretty tired on the 2^nd half, it went by pretty fast and I beat my Arizona swim by 4 minutes in 1:12:53.  Glad to have a wetsuit for the 71 degree water, and not bad considering my longest swim in training was about a mile and a half.

I'm that guy over there

Transition is one of the funniest parts of the day.  You go in a changing tent (separate for men and women) to strip off swim stuff and put on your cycling clothes, all with the time running.  As I entered the tent, it was just a mass of half naked, type A  guys yelling and trying to dress.  There were volunteers attempting to help but, due to the nudity, no one wanted to get too close.  In Arizona, the water and air temps were pretty cold and I couldn’t grip with my hands.  The volunteer had to pull my shorts up for me, which is a fairly embarrassing and silly thing to go through.  This time I was able to shoo my volunteer away to help someone else.

After exiting the tent, a volunteer handed me my bike and I headed out to the bike course.  We rode south through town on streets that were absolutely packed with spectators yelling.  It was really exciting and hard to hold back. 

The Ironman Canada bike course is one of the more challenging on the circuit.  It can be broken into five major parts… the initial 40 miles of flats, a 6 mile long mountain climb (Richter Pass) followed by 12 miles of “rollers” (what we call significant hills here), 24 miles of flats, a 10 mile long mountain climb (Yellow Lake), and finally a 12 mile cruise back to town downhill.  

If you don’t conserve energy early on, you’re toast.  So I put it in all-day pace, got aero, and enjoyed the scenery.  When we hit the base of Richter pass, everyone seemed to hit the accelerator.  I’m a decent climber, and granted I was nursing a sore leg, but I didn’t pass ONE PERSON on the six mile stretch up the mountain.  I distinctly remember several 60 year old ladies flying by me (you can tell because the race organizers write our age on our calves - so you can decide whether you want to try to keep up with someone in the race in your age group).   A friend who had been tracking us later informed me that of everyone he tracked, I had the least slowdown from the first half of the race to the second.  So that made me feel better about getting passed by the Grandmas.

View from part of the way up Richter Pass

Upon cresting the top, you hit a super fast downhill with plenty of visibility.  It’s basically an excuse to let it all hang out for several minutes and go really, really fast.  I did anyway…48 mph.  A bit wobbly and scary.  I don’t want to think about how much skin a person would leave on the asphalt crashing at that speed.

The bike course really tuckered out my kids as well.

The next section of seven rolling hills made it very difficult to get into a rhythm.  Each was steep enough that you had to work a bit to get over the top, but if you took full advantage of the preceding downhill you could minimize the effort.  I worked this section fairly hard and passed a ton of people back.  

At this point we were riding alongside a small river in a valley between the mountains.  Each side of the river had miles of orchards and vineyards.  Really pretty.  And apparently a lot of bees.  I heard of several people, including my buddy Kurt, who were stung in that section.  

The last climb, Yellow Lake, snuck up on us.  It started out so gradually I forgot I was even on it at first.  Several other riders and I had been passing each other back and forth on the previous stretch and so we all became friendly and chatted a bit on the climb.

Anyway, Yellow Lake was long.  But as we got closer and closer to the top, the spectator density went off the charts.  People on both sides of the road were screaming, ringing cowbells, and dancing around in ridiculous costumes.  I really fed off the spectators and that made me want to ride harder.  This is where my quads started cramping up and I ran out of my own nutrition (honey stinger chews) so I grabbed an energy gel from a volunteer as I rode by. 

I’m fairly certain that nutrition donated to races is basically the flavors they can’t sell otherwise.  I always seem to get the gross flavors.  I sucked down the gel and about gagged…double caffeinated espresso.  For a non-coffee drinker, it was pretty bad.  But I had done some math in my head and knew I was going to be down on calories so I grabbed another 2 gels and gulped.  Any guesses as to the flavor for both?  Double espresso.  What were the chances?  Well, I’d say 100% because I only ever get the nasty stuff at races.

A person could theoretically turn around and go back to the aid station but who wants to lose the time?  After all that climbing, I just wanted to get off the bike.  So with 3 caffeinated gels in my stomach in a short time period, I hit the top of Yellow Lake and proceeded to absolutely fly down the mountain and back into town at 30-40mph.  This last 12 miles gives you a chance to rest the legs and settle the stomach (theoretically).  Final bike time was 6:05:21, for an 18mph average.  In retrospect, this might have been a bit too fast (I only went 10 minutes faster in Arizona, on a ridiculously easy course).  My secret goal was to beat my friend Jeff’s bike split from a couple of years ago and of course it’s usually a sign of stupidity (or what they call “man thinking”) going into a race thinking like that.

Saying hi to family at mile 1

Talking to some veterans convinced me to change into clean, dry running clothes for the marathon.  Being comfortable is well worth an extra minute or two in an all day race.  As I hit mile one, I saw my family and stopped to say hi and hug my boy.  My wife’s parents made the trip with us to help watch the kids (Gabriel is almost 3 and Grayson is almost 4 weeks old).  They would later tell me that the entire event was spectacular, and although they knew there were crazy people in the world, they didn’t realize there was another whole level of crazy.  Apparently, there were people already stumbling and looking incoherent even at mile 1.

I headed out with a slightly sour stomach but not thinking much of it.  This marathon is an out-and-back course and we had the same awesome crowds cheering as we headed out.  My plan was to run 8 minutes, walk 1-2 minutes, and repeat.  The run-walk method worked exceptionally well for me in Arizona on little run training so I hoped it would again, because this time my long run was 3 miles.  If this sounds quite stupid, you are correct, but with some chronic issues it was the best I could do.

I actually got through 10 miles of run-walk-repeat before my stomach totally shut down from the caffeine.  Gas, bloating, burping, the strong sense that it would be awesome to vomit.  A girl who I had been running with was having similar issues.  We talked about trying to make ourselves gag but were both too chicken.  And who knows, maybe that would have made things worse. 

At least someone was having fun at this point.

At that point, it was a struggle to walk for more than a few minutes without stopping.   Fortunately, there was regular shade and aid stations every mile.   Everyone says to drink de-fizzed cola with a sour stomach.  Unfortunately, the person in charge of the aid stations didn’t tell the volunteers to de-fizz the cola.  So it took me 3 aid stations to discover that fully carbonated cola just makes a gassy stomach worse.  And of course lined up below each aid station was row after row of 2 liter bottles with lids tightly in place.  I probably should have said something but wasn’t sure I had the energy.

I finally realized I needed to let my stomach settle so I switched from powerade and cola to water and fruit.  It was a little tough to do this as I knew I would really be going into caloric deficit by doing so.  I didn’t see any other choice so slogged through it.

Finishing hard

This is the time in a race that veterans refer to as a “bad patch.”  They say every race consists of “good patches” and “bad patches”, and long races are all about accepting the bad ones, knowing that eventually they will pass. 

After 6 miles/2 hours of walking alternating with laying on the ground (I would say at least 60% of the people around me were walking as well – someone told me it got up to 95 degrees F that day, which explains a lot), my stomach began to settle and I began to perk up.  

I began chatting with a guy from Arizona and we decided to try running together.  It’s amazing how much working with another person can help your energy and your attitude.  We both began to steadily increase our pace from about 10 minute miles to 9 minute miles.  Around mile 20 I really started feeling good so kept steadily increasing the pace, finally finishing the final mile with a 7:00.  There was no logical reason to work that hard at the end…my marathon time would be a 5:45:35…and a big part of my limp over the next few days was surely from that surge at the end, but it felt really good to finish strong.  

Final time 13:17:16.  1 ½ hours slower than Arizona, but two important lessons learned…pack enough nutrition for the entire race and stick to your nutrition plan.  Duh.  This isn’t exactly rocket science, and it’s embarrassing considering I tell this to new runners just about every day.  Yet if you don’t plan everything out in advance to the letter, small mistakes can become big problems.

After I finished, a volunteer grabbed me and attended to my every need.  She retrieved my finisher shirt and hat, brought food, help me get a finisher photo, got me in for a massage, everything.  This is one of the coolest parts of doing an Ironman…the rock star treatment.  I read afterward that there were 4000 volunteers for the 3000 racers. 

I felt pretty drained at the end and a nurse who saw me while getting a massage threatened to give me an IV if I didn’t drink a bunch of water and eat some chips right then and there.  So I did.  I guess I got lucky because there were some people in bad shape.  Kurt, who beat me by 45 minutes, spent 4 hours in there before he finally got an IV.  I was out in 30 minutes.   Somewhere deep down I think this is pretty funny. 

All five of us made it back to the states in one piece, and like any long race, we all learned something valuable.   We also were reminded that doing long, stupid things to your body is much more fun with your buddies.

So that’s it.  All in all, Canada is definitely a bucket list race for the triathletes out there.  Canadians are super friendly, the dollar is fairly strong, and it’s a race you will never forget (even if it’s because you cried a little and thought you were going to need an Ambulance at the turnaround).

Minimalist Shoes: Are YOU right for them?

We have been fairly supportive of recommending quasi-minimalist shoes for our store customers over the past year.  I define a quasi-minimalist shoe as one that has some, but not, all elements of a minimalist shoe.  Elements of a minimalist shoe are a wide toe box, minimal cushioning, and a low heel to toe offset.

Examples of quasi-minimalist shoes are the Newton Isaac, Saucony Mirage, the soon-to-arrive Brooks Pure Project shoes, and New Balance Minimus.  Full minimalist shoes would be Vibram Five Fingers.  We recommend quasi minimalist shoes for our runners because they are a transitional step toward minimalism without quite the risk of putting someone in a minimalist shoe (we hope).

We are learning that even quasi-minimalist shoes don't work for everyone though.  We are seeing that people with very inflexible calves/achilles tendons do not tolerate the lowered heel very well and often come back to swap for a traditional shoe.

So we are now doing three tests on customers who want to try a minimalist or quasi-minimalist shoe:

1) Assess heel cord length.  Should be able to easily go beyond 90 degrees flexion at the ankle.
2) Assess big toe mobility.  Should be able to get to 30 degrees or more of extension at the big toe.
3) Assess single leg balance.  Should be able to easily balance 30-60 seconds with no wavering.  We instruct customer who buy a minimalist shoe to work up to 2 minutes with their eyes closed and no wavering on each leg.

The demands of running closer to barefoot require greater strength and flexibility of the foot and lower legs.  If you are considering a more minimal shoe that you are already in, make sure you can pass these three tests.  If not, then get to work!

Alter G Treadmill

One of our local fitness centers recently purchased an Alter G treadmill.  The treadmill features an enclosed skirt that you are secured into with special shorts.  You can then control air pressure inside the skirt to partially unload your body weight.

Here's a short video of me running on the treadmill a couple of weeks ago.

If you are injured or injury prone, this is a great way to get in miles.  I'm using it 3 times a week over the next month to prepare for Ironman Canada.  Without it, I'd have trouble running more than once a week.  For more info about using the Alter G locally, contact Nancy at the Meyer Center.

Asymmetry & Bike Fit - The Pelvis

I think a crucial missing piece to most bike fits is an assessment of pelvic stability while riding under load. 

Steve Hogg, a fitter out of Sydney, writes about it often on his blog: http://www.stevehoggbikefitting.com/blog. In sum, no one is 100% symmetrical is structure or function.  The people who function most symmetrically on a bike generally can train harder and longer without injury.  Here is a post with a video showing a severe case.  You probably aren't this bad, but just about everyone could use correction. 

So if you function asymmetrically, your bike fitter should adjust your fit to accommodate the way you function.  This can be accomplished through moving your saddle to the left/right with an FSA seat post with a data head, by twisting your saddle to the left or right slightly, by shimming one shoe to make it longer than the other, wedging one or both cleats/shoes, or by other methods. 

I am a devoted reader of Steve's blog, mostly because I have been struggling with cycling injuries for the past 7 years.  I think it is a good use of your time if you also struggle.

And to give a personal example, shimming seems to be helping me.  I have an x-ray verified leg length discrepancy (left tibia is 18mm shorter than my right one).  It turns out that shimming my right cleat (I know, opposite of what you would think) allows my pelvis to function more symmetrically on the bike seat.  I tried shimming the left cleat for the past 6 months and it felt worse than no shims...but with the right cleat shimmed I immediately felt more symmetrical.

I have not been able to apply more than 80% effort on the bike without severe left calf cramping and soreness for years.  Now with the right cleat shimmed, I am riding at 95% effort with only minimal soreness the next day.  Still have some details to work out, but I feel like I'm on the right path (finally).