Richard Jacroux is one of RTB's finest story-tellers, and a 5-year veteran of multisport. Coming back from an ugly stress fractures (not to mention bad ankle scarring from all the aquajogging) he gives us the account of his exploits at Seafair. Richard...seriously....about the bike......
Alternative blog titles:
"The best race that wasn’t…"
"The worst way to achieve a personal best…"
"A beautiful day, a good group, a personal best and I’m still whining… "
Standing with my buddy at the water’s edge I knew today would be a good day. My first race of the season (due to a broken foot), I thought I had a good chance of doing well…OK, to be more specific, I had a good chance of doing well for me…
I had never had the “perfect race” at Seafair. This was the 5th anniversary of my very first triathlon. My first year involved a total of 30 days of pre-race training – my goal had been simply completion. My second year was training for STP (so no run or swim) - I had only wanted to do well on the bike. My third year, I turned in my chip to “wingman” a friend in his first race. And last year, I was sick and didn’t race at Seafair.
So, even though my training was behind, I had a good chance of getting a personal best. And, my training really was behind: I had only biked 11 times since the injury (about May 1 - yes, that’s 11X in 11 weeks - i.e. not enough!), I had brought my running mileage back up, but had done no speed work. On the good side, my swim was doing excellently (again: for me) since it was the only thing I could do for a few weeks. My goal as set by my friend: 1:26:30, my old PB: 1:27:51, unhappiness would occur at 1:30:00.
Back to the water’s edge:
I decide, since my swim has been doing well, I’d pick an inside line and start further forward in the pack…never tried that before (yes, I defied rule #1: never do anything for the first time in a race). The countdown, the horn, the start, the realization I’d made a horrible mistake. Note to self: don’t go inside - everyone goes inside. One thing about my swim: I have a fairly consistent stroke - I don’t rush out, but I don’t fade. So, I start getting passed by a bunch of people. The hitting I don’t mind, but I can’t find a rhythm – and I’m searching everywhere. First buoy: some of the folks who went out fast are gasping and I’m making my way through them – again, trying to find a clear line and a rhythm. A minute later: Excellent!…I’m nearing some open water…and then a hand grabs my head and I’m pushed under just as I was taking a breath in. I manage to surface and shoot a stream of water out of my mouth and nose (just thinking about it is making my eyes water again). Treading water while choking, gagging, hacking, sneezing – and everyone passes me again. Poo! I’ve got to get back in this. Making my way into the crowd again - second buoy…and halleluiah! open water? Yup, on the outside! My best ½ mi swim prior to this had been 16:30(ish)…all that work for 16:15…Good for me, but I was hoping for something in the mid-15’s.
T1: I’m up…I’m running…My wet suit is half off before I pass the first rack. A nice person has put a large balloon on the rack across from mine, so I know exactly where I’m going. (a pause, a panic, a circle) Ummm…where’s my stuff? There’s my bike…but…(more pause) Ah ha!…my stuff is under someone’s bag and a mountain bike is on it’s kick-stand right in the way. Sometime after I left the transition area to go to the swim, someone had shown up, and thrown their stuff on top of my stuff and run off to the water. My nice little setup was a mess. Where were my glasses? How’d my socks get way over there? I was nice and racked the mountain bike, set up their stuff and bag over a little then finished my own transition. Between setting up their stuff and freaking out about not finding my stuff, I left the transition area thinking about “that guy” rather than myself…I hit my watch at 2:32…poo, a half-minute lost.
The bike: I had expected to bike poorly given my “extensive” training (a direct quote from Patty: “What's with the cycling, dude? Your bike in the shop or something????”). But, I came out of transition, got into a tempo, looked down and was very happy to see 21mph...Yea! Hitting the bridge, I realize, based on the cross winds, that there was a tail wind the whole way…much less yea! Coming back to the trail down from the bridge, the person in front of me was tip-toeing her bike down the hill and the Course Marshalls would not let us pass. The guy behind me actually starting yelling at this poor lady since she was holding up a number of racers. We got to the bottom and as I got back into my tuck, he passed me. I should have told him off, but didn’t - I just didn’t let him get away from me. I would feel better about this little victory, but unfortunately, he wasn’t in good bike shape either (isn’t that always the case – biggest mouth, smallest fill-in-the-blank). As I arrived at the dismount line and looking at my watch, it laughed at me showing 40:27.
T2: 1:23…that’s about right for me…
The run: A gu, a water, and he’s off! Ouch! What’s that horrible bubble in my side. ½ mile into the run a belch that Homer Simpson would have been proud of relieved me of the pain and I started to relax. Fortunately Kathy Morrisson (I think) had passed me long ago and the people around me forgave my bad manners. I picked up a fellow who started pacing off me and we had a nice chat as we hit mile 1 in 8:47 – “less talking more running,” I told myself. I lost my partner on the hill, (Kathy passed me again - at least this time in the opposite direction) but I kept another age-grouper in sight as my pacer and hit mile 2 at 18:00 – whoa, did I really lose that much on the hill? I thought I was making up time. “Pick up the pace, Richard.” Coming down the hill a nice lady passed me and I thought, “there’s my pacer”. I asked if it would be OK for me to pace off of her and she said “no problem”. I stayed on her left shoulder and was in just enough pain to realize this was my speed. Coming around the last bend, I saw the banner and told her it was time for us to push it more…She said I was on my own and I ran ahead for the last ¼ mi. The last mile must have averaged 7:45(ish) as my final time was 26:29. A good way to end.
As I crossed the finish line, Kathy came over to explain to me that she had already gone for a massage…
Overall 1:27:07 was 0:44 better than my last PB – but it felt slow. The silver lining? I’ve got more improvement in me – you hear that, Kathy? ;-)
"The best race that wasn’t…"
"The worst way to achieve a personal best…"
"A beautiful day, a good group, a personal best and I’m still whining… "
Standing with my buddy at the water’s edge I knew today would be a good day. My first race of the season (due to a broken foot), I thought I had a good chance of doing well…OK, to be more specific, I had a good chance of doing well for me…
I had never had the “perfect race” at Seafair. This was the 5th anniversary of my very first triathlon. My first year involved a total of 30 days of pre-race training – my goal had been simply completion. My second year was training for STP (so no run or swim) - I had only wanted to do well on the bike. My third year, I turned in my chip to “wingman” a friend in his first race. And last year, I was sick and didn’t race at Seafair.
So, even though my training was behind, I had a good chance of getting a personal best. And, my training really was behind: I had only biked 11 times since the injury (about May 1 - yes, that’s 11X in 11 weeks - i.e. not enough!), I had brought my running mileage back up, but had done no speed work. On the good side, my swim was doing excellently (again: for me) since it was the only thing I could do for a few weeks. My goal as set by my friend: 1:26:30, my old PB: 1:27:51, unhappiness would occur at 1:30:00.
Back to the water’s edge:
I decide, since my swim has been doing well, I’d pick an inside line and start further forward in the pack…never tried that before (yes, I defied rule #1: never do anything for the first time in a race). The countdown, the horn, the start, the realization I’d made a horrible mistake. Note to self: don’t go inside - everyone goes inside. One thing about my swim: I have a fairly consistent stroke - I don’t rush out, but I don’t fade. So, I start getting passed by a bunch of people. The hitting I don’t mind, but I can’t find a rhythm – and I’m searching everywhere. First buoy: some of the folks who went out fast are gasping and I’m making my way through them – again, trying to find a clear line and a rhythm. A minute later: Excellent!…I’m nearing some open water…and then a hand grabs my head and I’m pushed under just as I was taking a breath in. I manage to surface and shoot a stream of water out of my mouth and nose (just thinking about it is making my eyes water again). Treading water while choking, gagging, hacking, sneezing – and everyone passes me again. Poo! I’ve got to get back in this. Making my way into the crowd again - second buoy…and halleluiah! open water? Yup, on the outside! My best ½ mi swim prior to this had been 16:30(ish)…all that work for 16:15…Good for me, but I was hoping for something in the mid-15’s.
T1: I’m up…I’m running…My wet suit is half off before I pass the first rack. A nice person has put a large balloon on the rack across from mine, so I know exactly where I’m going. (a pause, a panic, a circle) Ummm…where’s my stuff? There’s my bike…but…(more pause) Ah ha!…my stuff is under someone’s bag and a mountain bike is on it’s kick-stand right in the way. Sometime after I left the transition area to go to the swim, someone had shown up, and thrown their stuff on top of my stuff and run off to the water. My nice little setup was a mess. Where were my glasses? How’d my socks get way over there? I was nice and racked the mountain bike, set up their stuff and bag over a little then finished my own transition. Between setting up their stuff and freaking out about not finding my stuff, I left the transition area thinking about “that guy” rather than myself…I hit my watch at 2:32…poo, a half-minute lost.The bike: I had expected to bike poorly given my “extensive” training (a direct quote from Patty: “What's with the cycling, dude? Your bike in the shop or something????”). But, I came out of transition, got into a tempo, looked down and was very happy to see 21mph...Yea! Hitting the bridge, I realize, based on the cross winds, that there was a tail wind the whole way…much less yea! Coming back to the trail down from the bridge, the person in front of me was tip-toeing her bike down the hill and the Course Marshalls would not let us pass. The guy behind me actually starting yelling at this poor lady since she was holding up a number of racers. We got to the bottom and as I got back into my tuck, he passed me. I should have told him off, but didn’t - I just didn’t let him get away from me. I would feel better about this little victory, but unfortunately, he wasn’t in good bike shape either (isn’t that always the case – biggest mouth, smallest fill-in-the-blank). As I arrived at the dismount line and looking at my watch, it laughed at me showing 40:27.
T2: 1:23…that’s about right for me…
The run: A gu, a water, and he’s off! Ouch! What’s that horrible bubble in my side. ½ mile into the run a belch that Homer Simpson would have been proud of relieved me of the pain and I started to relax. Fortunately Kathy Morrisson (I think) had passed me long ago and the people around me forgave my bad manners. I picked up a fellow who started pacing off me and we had a nice chat as we hit mile 1 in 8:47 – “less talking more running,” I told myself. I lost my partner on the hill, (Kathy passed me again - at least this time in the opposite direction) but I kept another age-grouper in sight as my pacer and hit mile 2 at 18:00 – whoa, did I really lose that much on the hill? I thought I was making up time. “Pick up the pace, Richard.” Coming down the hill a nice lady passed me and I thought, “there’s my pacer”. I asked if it would be OK for me to pace off of her and she said “no problem”. I stayed on her left shoulder and was in just enough pain to realize this was my speed. Coming around the last bend, I saw the banner and told her it was time for us to push it more…She said I was on my own and I ran ahead for the last ¼ mi. The last mile must have averaged 7:45(ish) as my final time was 26:29. A good way to end.
As I crossed the finish line, Kathy came over to explain to me that she had already gone for a massage…
Overall 1:27:07 was 0:44 better than my last PB – but it felt slow. The silver lining? I’ve got more improvement in me – you hear that, Kathy? ;-)
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