A Tale of Two Sprints

Saturday, I competed in my first duathlon as part of my 50th year of "leave no race behind" strategy. This was a 5K road/trail run + 18K road ride + 3K road/trail run. It was also my first "short" race and a bit brutal pace wise.I arrived early where I quickly concluded that volunteers outnumbered participants by 2:1. Not bad, though, as said volunteers became audience members that cheered us like rock stars. Fresh off my new read of "Born to Run" I spent a considerable portion of my warm-up running barefoot to dial-in my stride. I'm a natural non-heel foot runner so the barefoot thing isn't hard. I enjoyed it simply for the odd stares I received. Then again that's my modus operandi isn't it?

As the race start time approached the obvious tri-guys made themselves visible and moved up front while us old guys sized each other up, offered self-deprecating humor as evidence that we were beyond all that, and settled into a "just bit back of the front" to demonstrate our ingrain and learned humility. Funny thing was, the group of us who did this, wound up placing first, second, and third in our age group.

With a 3-2-1 we shot out of the start line and it was obvious that the pace was going to be faster than I was planning. I had 90 minutes in mind, assuming just under 8 min runs and a decent bike pace. At mile 1 on the foot race, I was at 6:45 with my two old-dude companions sandwiching me in-between. As the course went to trail and began a steep climb I surged ahead and used my trail running skills to keep the distance on the descent but got bested on the last mile of flat by my nearest competitors and still same old dudes.

I hit the transition area 3 miles later just under 20 minutes and flew out the gate on my bike winded but still comfortable. The 18K course ahead was a series of rolling but none-to-steep hills that afforded a good tempo and fast ride. By mile 6, I had reeled in one competitor and overtook the next by mile 7 where I opened it up and really pushed my effort level to 8+. At mile 9, I reached for a Gu that I had only grabbed at the last minute and squeezed it down. I was in danger of bonking and I knew it. By mile 9, the water ran out and my calves began to cramp, still I kept it dialed in and pushed it all the way back to the transition. As I reached the cross-over area, I was spent but heard I was now in 6th overall and wanted to maintain that or better. But, I was badly dried out and there was no water or fuel to be had.

The last 2 miles of running sucked. I was able to snatch some water from a volunteer but the problem I was now under-fueled and in a hydration and nutrient hole. My two old dude competitors caught me and it was all I could do to hold on. One placed just 10 seconds ahead--I nearly caught him as my finish line surge energy kicked in. But, as I told him later as we chatted up our race, I was proud to see him kick-ass on his old-school bike, thus proving that it usually boils down to rider not equipment. The 48 year old school teacher can only afford a second-hand steel tube vintage 70's bike but he still took me and my flashy gear apart in the end. A big salute to that.

Old guys rule again, however, as I eeked out a 1:20:04 time (10 under plan) at 9th overall and 3rd in my age group (my last visit to this age group given my birthday next weekend). Lesson learned on the sprints...don't under estimate the fuel and give until you puke.

All in all a lot of fun and much satisfaction.