Vineman 70.3 2016: Sometimes Things Work Out


This season’s been different. At 54, I’m at the top of the M50-54 age group in triathlon, and you wouldn’t think five years would make a big difference, but in this decade it seems to. The run is the first thing to go for most guys, which is hard to take when you come from a running background and are used to seeing the run as your weapon.

I had an OK race at Oceanside in spite of my pre-race blunders, and since then I’ve been trying to improve something each race. I jumped into the Wildflower Olympic distance at the last minute and had a fun time there, albeit plagued with cramping in the second run. I’ve also raced three 5Ks this season, having been called upon by my San Francisco-based running club to help our men’s 50+ team score some points. This is not a distance that’s suited to me, and my training definitely hasn’t included the kind of speedwork that you need for 5K, but as I often tell people, you should embrace your weaknesses. My first two were identical 20:05 times, which is a little embarrassing because I used to hit sub 20 for the first 5K in marathons (usually not the last 5K, though), but by the July 4 Freedom Fest in Morgan Hill, I was able to knock out a 19:51 after a big weekend of bike and run training, so that had given me some renewed confidence in my running. I needed it.

Especially after a disastrous Hawaii 70.3, where I notched an all-time half-Ironman bike PR of 2:28, only to DNF in the run thanks to a painful toe injury I had incurred the day before while entering the water for a last little practice swim. I hate DNFing – for me it’s the worst kind of race failure.

So here we are at Vineman 70.3, one of my favorite races despite the terrible logistics of two transition areas 15 miles apart and loads of traffic all around. My goal for this race was simply to have a good race, which meant solid swim, fast bike and no cramping or walking on the run. My bike power has been very good of late, which gave me a lot of confidence that the bike would be good; my swim, well, has been hit or miss. Some days I’m really on and cranking; other days it’s a struggle. And the run was mediocre early in the season but has been coming around, thanks to two principal changes:

  1. Running more frequently during the week
  2. Going really easy on my easy days

The second point is hard to implement if you let your ego run your training. We amateurs also have the mentality that we have to make every workout count, and in our minds that means go fast. In making this change, I noticed that I wasn’t dreading workouts because I was allowed to go easy, and furthermore my subsequent bike and run sessions were done without the normal residual “workout hangover” I often get from a medium-hard run.

A bunch of my Team Sheeper and other occasional training partners were doing Vineman, so there was the usual pre-race chatter about not getting beaten by so-and-so, all good natured but with a modicum of pressure if you allow yourself to slip into competitive mode. Which I do, since I am competitive by nature. 

The first order of business was to have a decent swim; the M50-54 wave started fairly late, which meant we would have plenty of course congestion (slower swimmers and riders from earlier waves) to deal with, but it was a fairly large group that assembled at the narrow start in the Russian River. I got off fairly well, but the lack of warmup really hit me a few minutes into the swim – I got almost panicky from the hypoxia when you go out fast without a good warmup. I know this sensation from past experience, so I also know that it goes away after a bit, at which point the swim tends to go, well, swimmingly.

The water was very shallow this year at the turnaround, so I was forced to stand a few times and then dolphin-dive when it got deep enough. I was passing people from previous waves, but I was also getting passed by some of the fastest 35-39 women in the wave six minutes behind mine. That didn’t happen last year when I swam 31 minutes, but this year’s 33-minute swim was a different story. Not my worst, though, so I wasn’t panicking.

A couple of training partners and I had been doing some transition practice of late (trying to get the wetsuit off and bike helmet on as quickly as possible), and that seemed to help, though I fumbled with getting my bike shoes on. The bike exit was complicated this year, as the mount line was partway up a steep hill, so that pretty much precluded leaving your shoes clipped to pedals and jumping on the bike to get going. I had put my shoes on first and was prepared to run all the way up the short hill, but on coming to the mount line I noticed that no one was around me, so that gave me time to clip one foot in and power my way up the steep climb. I passed a few people this way and sped my way onto the course.

My early effort was at once frenetic and controlled – I was passing riders quickly while avoiding the cars that were on the course and making for some sketchy moments, but my perceived effort was well within my capabilities. What was interesting, though, was that my wattage was high (for me) – 23oW for the first hour, which is what I’ve done in my better Olympic-distance (25-mile) races. This ride would be more than double that, but as I said, my power on rides has been higher than normal lately, so I decided to just go with it.

The bike was complicated by some unusual headwinds, and for me it got even more complicated when my bike computer suddenly went dead at the halfway point (I thought it was fully charged, but I thought wrong). That meant the second half of the ride would be done all on perceived effort, a situation I had encountered before, so again I didn’t panic. We had some tailwind in the second half, so I felt like that had the potential to be faster. I figured I was on a 2:30 or maybe slightly faster ride; officially I hit the line at 2:29:55, my second-fastest half-Ironman ride ever, so I was pretty stoked when I hit transition.

I was even more stoked to notice a distinct lack of bikes racked around me, which meant that very few guys in my age group were ahead of me (in fact, I was in 6th coming off the bike). That meant one thing: run without cramping, and I was going to have a good result.

Easy to say; hard to do. But actually I felt really good leaving transition, and my plan was to run “relaxed fast” if that makes any sense. In other words, no pushing, especially early in the run. The one concern I had was that I had forgotten to put any calories into my carrier on the bike, so the only calories I had had were in Gatorade, which doesn’t have a lot. I had put some blocks in my transition bag, so I took a few of those, but I also noticed that I wasn’t running out of energy or anything, so my typical training ride that I do without calories seems to have conditioned my body not to expect anything.

I was holding 7:20-7:30 pace most of the time, and also holding the cramps at bay – I got a few twinges from my abductors, but all I had to do was to cut my stride a little and relax. I started going back and forth with one guy in his 30s wearing a “559 Multisport” kit, who told me “You’re a beast” and encouraged me to hang on to him in the last couple of miles, which I sort of managed to do.

I crossed the line with a time of 4:45:44, which is a PR for me by 1:16 and netted me 5th in the age group – my first 70.3 podium! I got absolutely smoked by the guy in 1st (21 minutes faster, mostly in the bike), but hey, I age up next year to the 55-59 group, where I’ll still get smoked by a few of the truly elite.



Oh yeah, and the Hawaii address – that’s a whole ‘nother story for a different post…

But I’ll take this – it’s a real confidence booster for the rest of the season.

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