Rev 3 Olympic Triathlon

1.5 km swim -> 40 km bike -> 10 km run
May 9, 2010

It's not my style to talk about the trip or the experience of the event outside of the race itself, but I think this race should involve a small but significant exception. The Rev 3 Triathlon series is in its infancy, but they've been busy writing a lot of checks with their mouths; state of the art timing systems, live athlete tracking, family- and children-focused environment. Most importantly of all they put up 5 figures of prize money to tempt the best pros in the world to come compete. And come they did. Over the weekend, I was able to snag pictures with Matty Reed, Chris Lieto, Torenzo Bozzone, Bjorn Andersson, Jordan Rapp, Julie Dibens, Mary Beth Ellis, Pip Taylor and race director Heather Gollnick. Check 'em out on Facebook!

Despite a late and enjoyable evening with old friends, I got a pretty decent night's sleep (~6 hours) and woke up relatively refreshed. Trying to be quiet and not wake up Jenna (my very accommodating friend who has put me up this weekend and every time I come to Knoxville in the last 4 years), I got my breakfast down, everything finished up and headed down to race sight about a half mile away at about 6:15. The pros left at 7:45 and my wave was closer to 8:30. I walked down (bikes racked the night before) to Transition, housed in a parking lot just across Neyland Drive from the Tennessee River.

While I was getting things ready, a guy recognized the tattoo on my leg. In any other triathlon that would have meant my M-dot and the line of questioning would have involved which Ironman I did, how many I've done and which one I plan to do next. This time was about my Pi Alpha tattoo. Turns out the guy and his buddy were Pi Kapps from Virginia Tech who came down to race. Not only that, they were both Pi Alphas. We talked for a bit about our respective trips before I left them to finish getting ready. It was real bummer running into them in transition less than an hour before the gun went off, or I might have been privy to a wonderfully nostalgic conversation. All the same, I wished them well and got back to business.
*If you have no idea what I'm talking about here, google Push America. Pi Alphas are alums of Push America events. If you want to donate to the cause, let me know; I know several guys who could use some help in their fundraising goals.*

I usually don't race the Olympic distance, which provided me with a number of conundrums. First of which was a conflicted feeling of foot care. The race seemed too short to want to put on socks for the bike or the run, and simultaneously too long to attempt to slug it out with no lubrication. This day, I went with Vaseline. I lubed up the walls, heels and toe box of my biking and running shoes with (generic brand) Vaseline and hoped for the best. My warm up run left my toes feeling a little hot and bothered, so I slapped some more in there as the announcer was barking at us stragglers to get out of transition and head up to the swim start. Very similarly to my last point-to-point swim race (70.3 New Orleans) I mosey out of transition confident that everything would be in its place when I finished the swim. I slip my wetsuit on halfway, mix up my energy drink and walk along the path up to the start of the swim. Counting down the minutes to my wave getting in the water, I down my Delta-E energy drink, pop my GU Roctane (which I got several samples of during the expo) and watch the other waves do their thing.

Sooner than expected, I got the call to head down to the water. The official temperature was 69.4 degrees, though I didn't know that at the time. All I did the previous day was dip a toe in to feel the temp and thought it a bit chilly. I was wondering how comfortable the entrance would be. To my excitement the water felt all but ideal not only jumping in, but would feel great the entire swim. Not to mention the water, which had been dammed upstream, was flat as glass. So I swam over to the start corral, did that thing you do to warm your wetsuit up, and waited for the siren. I punched my watch at the 90 second notification so I wouldn't have to fumble with it at the gun. Positioning myself immediately behind the first line of swimmers, I treaded water feeling ready for a great race. At the siren, I got to experience once again the wonderful chaos of a deep water swim start, albeit a bit subdued with only about 100 people in there.

I could tell right away that the swim was going to go well, but I had no idea what to expect time-wise. My PR for a 1.5 km swim was unknown, but I could recall that it was set during my only other fair Olympic distance race. I've done 2 Olys in my 3 previous years, and one of them was literally in a hurricane. My first Olympic went well for the time, but it was only my 4th triathlon and at the end of my first triathlon season in 2007. Whatever my time was, it certainly wasn't indicative of what my time should be for this race. (It was 36:42)

In any case, it was very easy to draft for the first part. The course was a hybrid between and clockwise rectangle and a point-to-point. You swam for ~500 yards into the sun, turned around and swam the remaining yards, past the starting dock and down to a further dock just across from transition. On the first out, there was more jockeying for position that there was actual swimming. So long as I had feet in front of me, I was content to let the first part serve as a warm up, since we weren't allowed one before the race. The swim was directly into the sun, so I scarcely had any idea how much further we had to go. Gradually, the field thinned and we passed the giant boat that served as my only landmark; the turn buoy should be just beyond that. Eventually we turned, my vision returned and it was largely open water from here on in.

Feeling strong in the water, I hunted around for some fast feet to carry me to a decent swim. I've never really tried to draft in a race before and wasn't sure the best way to go about it. Luck was on my side, tho, as there were a handful of stronger swimmers in front of me throughout the last 1,000. My effort resembled a lot less that steady state effort I've been doing in the pool for years and more like the interval work I've been doing recently. I'd see a swimmer up in front of me and sprint to get up to him. Once I was on his feet, I'd relax and catch my breath. Soon after he'd drop me and I'd surge again, catching either his feet or someone else's. This continued until I found myself with nobody left to carry me across the final 300 meters. I could tell the swim exit was close, but didn't really see the dock until I was right up on it. I wished I had gotten in the water the day before so I could have known the course's landmarks better. Still, the swim felt very fast and I was interested to see how my time would end up.

I exit the water and have a bit of trouble getting my suit off. I eventually wrangle it off of me and glance at my watch; it reads 23:xx. I double take. There's no WAY I did the swim that fast! I am floored. I didn't know what to expect, but figured 30 minutes was a nice round number to shoot for. I'm VERY happy with my swim time and already start to look forward to bragging about it. Transition was smooth and I soon mounted my bike to screams of Denise and Marian on the sidelines. My day was already going light years above what I expected and I was interested to see how I'd handle the rest of it.

Swim time: 22:28 (1:33/100 m; 9/31 in AG, though I was 8th out of transition)
T1: 2:01

I knew two things going into the bike: my fitness, time goals and, subsequently, expectations were a lot higher for the swim and the run than the bike. I just didn't feel like my bike fitness was really where it needs to be. Add to that the fact that I'd driven the bike course twice and had seen firsthand just how HILLY it was. So, my goal was to do the fastest bike my body felt like giving me that day, but more focusing on coming in off the bike fueled, hydrated and brimming with enough energy to lay down a smoking 10k PR.

Having seen the course not only in the days prior, but racing much of it over years of TriDeltathon races, the first 4-5 miles around campus were uneventful. Eventually, we exited UT on the opposite side of campus and headed out towards rural south Knox county for the meat and potatoes of the ride. As we crossed the Henley St bridge, one of the coolest parts of the bike course, I got to witness the pro men coming back into town. I saw Bjorn Andersson in the lead, Lieto quite a bit back, and a string of noticeable pro men behind him, namely Torenzzo, Matty Reed and TJ Tollakson (why didn't I get a picture of TJ? Gah, I WANTED to! Never saw him. More on that at the end).

Leaving town and heading out to the hills, I started taking my calories on board. I didn't know what to expect out of the bike, so I didn't know how much fuel to take in. I ended up with 3 scoops of Infinit (~450 calories, ~110g of carbs) mixed heavy and put in a gel flask. I figured I'd nurse on that, possibly not even finish it, but take my last little squirt before I got back into campus. As it turned out I found myself with less than half a flask by mile 8. At that point I switched to mostly water, trying to keep my mouth moist but I suppose not really DRINKING a ton. I managed to overdo it a bit on bike hydration, though. I found myself having to pee really bad in the last 3 miles. I was wondering how it would affect my ability to run, but knew there was no way I was stopping!

I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about the idiosyncrasies of the bike. I'd seen it enough the days before to know what to expect. There was a lot of climbing. The terrain was mostly rolling with some flat, and a handful of climbs that never really seemed to come down. There were two climbs of note, each lasting about a mile. They both looked like absolute quad-shredders from the car, but ended up not being so horrible when it came down to it (no Nasty Grades!). The descents on the back end of them were very fast, quite winding/technical and pretty cold. Some of the roads were extremely bumpy and uncomfortable, some were plushly flat and well paved. All in all, the bike was about what I expected, easier than I feared it could have been. It made evident that I need a new bike fit, tho. I experienced a lot of discomfort on the bike.

I noticed the 10 mile marker was placed entirely too early in the ride. Approaching it, I estimated it had been about 50 minutes into the ride. My mind was a blur of images. This was way faster than I thought I was capable of doing (and it was). I didn't see another mileage sign until I was headed back into town, but did watch the numbers on my race watch creep higher and higher and higher, systematically removing any possibility of excessively lofty bike splits.

I noticed I had lost my heart rate about 45 minutes into the bike. Despite my best attempts, I never really did get it back. I was more than comfortable going by feel on the bike, and I suppose I would have been okay doing so on the run, but to have this happen just infuriates me. Why is it asking so much that a HRM measure HR?

Eventually the hills ended, the loop took us back through the familiar roads of the Henley Bridge, through campus and back to Neyland. I halted any more accelerations in lieu of spinning my legs out, trying to prep them for the run. Seeing the runners dot the street gave me a better idea of where the run would take us and I was quite ready to see how my body would handle the unique blend of intensity and endurance that the 10k presented. I hopped off my bike to hear Denise grab the mic from the announcer and (still screaming) cheer me on, which made me smile. I felt an interesting sensation as soon as I dismounted and started to run barefoot; there was excessive pressure and soreness in the balls of my feet from all the churning and burning along the bike course. Hopefully that wouldn't affect my run stride. Though the transition area wasn't well marked, well known or well announced to athletes actually in there, I figured out where the exit was and took off down Neyland, hoping for a fast end of the day.

Bike time: 1:35:38 (17.38 mph; 9/31 in AG)
T2: 1:28

I glanced at my HRM a dozen times over the course of the run, but I never did get HR data again. I was very thankful for the way my training plan was laid out, otherwise I'm sure my pacing would have been off. I do quite a bit of track work repeating miles at 10k pace (or slightly faster), so I got to be pretty proficient at knowing what that pace feels like. Having adequately fueled and hyper-hydrated on the ride, I was glad to fuel pretty minimally during the run. At each aid station, I splashed a cup of water into my mouth, getting between 2-4 ounces in there and the rest on my chest. This kept my mouth moist, gave me enough water without being too much and sufficed as my only cooling mechanism; it was a mild day, but over half of the run was in the sun.

The run course, like the swim course, was a bit of a hybrid between an out and back and a point-to-point. You ran just short of 2 miles on Nayland Drive, hopped on the Greenway for a little bit, turned around at mile 2.8, headed back to transition (to make 5.6), ran past transition and up to the finish. I knew there was a big climb past transition heading up to the finish, but had no idea what the run course was. It was very poorly marked the days before the race, so I wasn't able to see it. I had to just trust that it was as flat as people said it was.

I spent most of the initial out patter measuring my split times. I did my first mile in 8:XX, but was unsure of the precise moment where transition ended and the run began, so I couldn't be sure. The 2nd mile was 8 flat and I'd hoped to make the 3rd mile at least that fast. My pacing plan was to hold LT until the turnaround, pick it up about 10 seconds per mile on the way back, then all out sprint up the final hill and into the finish. At mile 2 was the end of Nayland Drive, so my focus turned to the hidden entrance to the Greenway. As I neared the turn, the volunteers cautioned me to be careful going down the steps. Oh, you've got to be kidding me! There were about 8 steps that began what was about a quarter mile sharp descent into the Greenway. This was going to be a lot of fun going back up...

I took notice of the mile marker signs on the Greenway and was able to give myself smaller checkpoints. I saw James near the end of the out and back section and motioned to him. It was cool to see him there; I knew he was a run course marshal, but thought he was going to be further up in a section only the people doing the half ironman would see. Making the turn at the turnaround, I kicked it up just a tad and tried to focus on my breathing, knowing it would be completely flat until the mammoth climb back to Nayland. When it came, I focused on shortening my stride, increasing my turnover and pushing through my toes, but I could feel my body screeching to a near standstill. On top of the hill, you get a little downhill heading back to Nayland to catch your breath, so that's what I did.

The 2nd stretch down Nayland was just painful. My body was responding extremely well, I wasn't cramping and my energy felt fine. It was just the accumulation of mental and physical pain the day had brought. I zoned out a few times trying to ignore it and just let me mind go blank for a while. I couldn't find the mile 4 marker, but knew I wouldn't hit my quite optimistic goal time of 45 mins, largely because of the unexpected hill and crucial break in my rhythm. Eventually, I passed the one mile marker (going to other way), and knew I'd be in transition in less than 8 minutes, which made me feel a lot better.

Taking in my last shot of water and running alongside transition, I knew my day was almost done. I could hear spectators and volunteers cheering, but my vision was starting to go and all I saw was furry, white and out of focus. Getting to the otherside of transition and approaching the hill I told myself that this is the place where I was "either going to go or not." I decided I could handle a little more suffering, so I kicked it up another notch and went deeper into the redline. Cresting the hill and heading back down it towards the park, I opened up my stride and really plugged away at it. I approached the finish line chute with very real and not often experienced levels of lactic acid coursing through every vein in my body. A good finish line kick got me across the line and gave me a chance to catch my breath and enjoy the end of a pretty good race.

Run: 49:35 (8:00/mi; 9/31 in AG, see below)
I left T2 in 9th place, passed one guy by the turnaround, and was passed again by the finish

Total time: 2:41:11
9th out of 24 finishers in my age group

Post race was pretty uneventful, and a little bit distressing and confusing. After all the bragging they had done about their new advanced timing system, the times were screwed up when I checked them. A mysterious 5 minutes had been added to my swim time, completely negating the breakthrough swim I had and throwing my mood for a loop. I was pretty confident that my watch did not mysteriously read my swim 5 minutes fast and that they had just messed up the timing of the waves (they did and changed it eventually). Additionally, they had only measured my run time to the turnaround, so at first glance it said I had finished sub 2:20. Yeah, I wish...

The food was a huge disappointment and there wasn't really anything to do post-race that wasn't already there for the expo. I checked out the pro's awards ceremony and snagged another picture or two. It seemed as if something was amiss when the ceremony ended. It took a while for me to realize that TJ Tollakson was nowhere to be seen; I would have liked to get a picture with him. He ended up 11th, just off of the leaderboard, and I couldn't find him in the ocean of people stretched out across the lawn. I left without much of a search as I was pretty ready to head back to Jenna's to wash off the sweat and river, get some lunch and knock out this annoying little 3 hour drive back to Smyrna to spend at least a little time with my Mom. Probably not the best thing to do, screwing around all day in Knoxville on Mother's Day.

In all fairness, I'm a little deflated looking at my bike time. I know it isn't as bad as it looks, but it looks like I slowed down a lot. Their splits were at odd times, giving one after 12.4 miles, after another 3.4 miles and at the final marker in transition. At a glance it looked like I slowed down severely at the end, but a lot of that can be accounted for by the towering climb on Neubert Springs, the rough roads just outside of downtown, the 2 steep climbs on Cumberland and Volunteer and the spinning towards the end.

I would have like the run to be 2-3 (or a breakthrough day at 4-4:35) minutes faster, but that was under the assumption that the course was flat. Seeing the plummet into the Greenway, the subsequent climb out of there, and the tenth of a mile of breathlessness thereafter, I knew that was far out of reach. Don't think my split times were lost on me: I averaged 8 min/mis exactly to the turnaround and 7.99 min/mis over the last 3.4. I wished it had been closer to 7:45s, but to see such an even split was a pretty cool sight. Couple that with the knowledge that BOTH climbs on the run course were over the back half.

All in all, I see this race as a crazy breakthrough in the swim, a decent bike and a solid run. I could feel my body was well nourished, well fueled, well trained and just firing on all cylinders even late in the race, which is certainly the best omen of all.