Part 2 - 2011 Ironman World Championship 70.3

As you may have inferred, I was looking for a bit more out of this triathlon race experience than just the opportunity to race fast. In part, that’s because I knew that I wouldn’t race fast. An injury in July (a week after my qualifying race) significantly derailed my training, and though I could have trained around the injury, I knew that I wasn’t going to be at 100% for this race. Plus, I normally break each year up into two competitive seasons…Spring (~March-June) and Fall (~September-November) with some well-deserved recovery time (and alternative fun sports) in between. So, usually in September I’m building up towards a big race instead of peaking for one. My training in late August and early September was great, but I was still going to be at least a month away from peaking for this race.

I did have a bunch of friends doing the Vegas race, though, and I was hoping that seeing them would make the trip worth it. And since I was one of the few who had raced this course before (for the Silverman Triathlon), I appointed myself as the resident knowledgeable insider. My feeling was to help my friends understand what the new Ironman venue was going to be like and how it was supposed to work, and they could worry about the important things like finding entertainment for themselves and their entourages. We all knew what to do in Vegas, but only I knew what the race was going to be like…and that was because this race didn’t generate much chatter at all from IRONMAN itself.

My cast of friends came from throughout the country and, somewhat ironically, all qualified at different places. Three were All-Navy triathletes: Lee Boyer (qualified at New Orleans), Bill “Spig” Reed (Florida-Orlando), and Jay Calvert (Muncie IN). Another was All-Air Force: Jon Mason (Boulder). Closer to home was Espen Kateraas, Norwegian Army vet now Orange County entrepreneur (California-Oceanside), local Ojai Aussie Leroy Thomas (Stevens Lake WA), Aloha Steakhouse CEO Jim Avrea (OK…he also got his slot in Oceanside, but could’ve gotten it anywhere!), and myself (Buffalo Springs Lake – Lubbock TX).

We also had one All-Marine Corps triathlete from Hawaii, Sean Sullivan (Honu-Hawaii) as well as one All-Army triathlete, Scott Miller (Kansas).

The Marines were the title sponsor of the race…”officially” called the “2011 Marines Ironman World Championship 70.3”. That sponsorship added a couple of points of irony to the event. The first is that the Marines actually withdrew the funding for their All-Marine Corps triathletes to race at the Armed Forces Triathlon Championship this year, within a week of that event. That forced the Marines who hoped to race at Pt. Mugu to pay their own way to get there. Sean Sullivan was one of those who made the trip to Mugu, had a good race there, and continued his strong racing to get his Vegas slot at the Honu 70.3 race in June. So, he plunked down his $325 entry fee and, within two months, was sent on a no-prior-notice deployment to Africa. Not exactly the goodwill story that the Marines were hoping for with their sponsorship for sure. (We did send Sean a care package from Vegas, though.)

One other misfortunate pre-race casualty came upon Jay, who ended up missing the trip after completing IRONMAN Louisville two weeks prior in pain. The pain didn’t go away and Jay convalesced the best way that he could, by giving his son a live indoctrination to the special world of Philadelphia Eagles football.  

But those who made the trip made it fun for me, and I was honored to get some one-on-one time with just about all of them. Espen and I did the pre-race dinner banquet, and the rubber chicken was actually very good. (The Loews Lake Las Vegas cooks food as good as it looks.) Jon and I jogged the run course and got some laps in at Henderson’s excellent 50m swimming pool. Spig, Leroy and I did the Friday morning official lake swim, and Spig treated me to the best pre-race pasta dinner (thanks Heather) at his family’s desert oasis. Meanwhile, we all wondered if Lee would arrive at the same time as his bicycle.

I also got shoehorned at the pre-race expo by a person who saw my Navy shirt and asked if I was in the service. After a brief conversation, he introduced himself as Saul Raisin, and learned that he was a brain injury survivor like me...well, not quite like me...his brain injury was much more significant than mine...but since we had something in common, the brief conversation became a long, sit-down conversation. Saul and I both got our brain injuries through cycling mishaps. In his case, he was already a Cat-1/pro cyclist and white jersey winner (best young cyclist) at a stage race, and was injured in his last prep race before his first Giro d'Italia. Saul still has some significant cognitive and motor deficiencies from his mishap, but he was there to race (after receive a media entry) and to help promote the foundation that bears his name to support Traumatic Brain Injury victims.

The good times with friends make up for the logistical challenges of the race, many of which I foresaw and expected. The Loews and the race site lacked sufficient parking for all of the racers and guests/family/spectators. A post-race shuttle service from the finish back to the Loews/Start wasn’t announced in the athlete guide (we had one for the Silverman) and when I asked IRONMAN about a shuttle, I received a reply from the Athlete Services Director at IRONMAN headquarters saying that there would be no shuttle, and that athletes would have to make their own arrangements to return to the Loews (either to pick up their vehicles or to return to their lodging if a Loews guest). This is where I thought that the IRONMAN had lost the Spirit of Aloha (see part 1 of the story), basically dumping their athletes in the middle of the desert on their own after the race. A day later, IRONMAN send out an email blast correcting themselves and announcing the post-race shuttle service, which must have been planned well beforehand but somehow not communicated to the “Athlete Services Director”. The last concern of mine was the layout of the run course…an adaptation to the Silverman’s course that compressed all 1,500+ athletes onto an out-and-back 2.2-mile long stretch of road with only three aid stations. This made for a somewhat zany, spectator-friendly scene, but it was somewhat chaotic and congested for the athletes and volunteers (triathlon running IS a contact sport!).

In the end, I enjoyed my trip, got my finisher’s medal, and spent some good times with friends who, for the most part, did very well on this course with some of the best challengers from throughout the world.

Oh, yea, and then there was the actual race…

WEATHER: Low around 70F, High 88F. Insignificant wind. It was really excellent weather for Vegas in September. Four out of five times, the weather there is hotter and/or windier. (Two days later there were flash floods and high temps didn’t reach 80F.)

SWIM: 80F turbid water in Lake Las Vegas. I knew that with this challenge of the bike and run courses and the amount of time that could be gained/lost on each, the swim here for this race would be TOTALLY insignificant. And that was my attitude when my wave (with Espen and Lee) entered the water a full 60 minutes behind the first wave of elite/pro men. My wave would start a full 10 minutes after the preceding wave of women, and that gave me plenty of time to get into the comfortable water and loosen up. No wetsuits, of course, and I just went with a jammer swimsuit while most everyone else swam in their full race kits and/or hydrodynamic speedsuits.

Since the swim didn’t really mean anything, all I wanted to do was to avoid the battle zone and swim easy. I found Espen at the buoy that marked the innermost (right side) of the start line, and I lined up even more wider than that. At the cannon, I went into the easiest, slowest-cadence swim that I have ever done in a race, expecting to swim a pedestrian 30-minute split (I’m usually 28 minutes or better at this distance). I had a little drafting help and no problems navigating the course. I exited the water 29’20” later, spending no energy at all, and still finished sixth in my age group doing it. Again, the swim was just totally irrelevant.

TRANSITION ONE: Lee came out of the water right behind me and we went through T1 at the same time.

BIKE: This is a bike course that is designed to take away your run legs. Still, the nice weather made it a fairly fast bike ride. I was expecting to ride around 2h50min, so to go 2h37min was a pleasant surprise.

Early on, I was expecting a bunch of fast cyclists to blow by me, but instead I was blowing through the women from the wave just before mine as we started out eastward towards a turnaround point. The course has plenty of rolling hills that mostly breaks up the drafting that was incessant at the previous IM70.3WC venue in Clearwater FL…though I did see a couple of tight packs of cyclist in the reverse (westbound) direction along descending stretches of road.

About 20 miles into the ride, I got passed by Laurent Jalabert, who is in my age group. Honestly, I knew the name and knew that he was a former professional cyclist, but I had to Google him after the fact to find out how good he really was. When he passed me on an incline, it wasn’t with that much “authority” at first (I think that I was still carrying momentum speed from the preceding downhill), but in short order he zoomed ahead up the rest of the hill and out of sight. (Turns out that he’s one of the last people to pull off a “trifecta” in a Grand Tour, winning GC, points, and climber’s competitions in the same Vuelta de Espana.)

My favorite part of this course is the six miles before and after the turnaround, because this part is totally secluded from civilization. You can’t see Lake Mead, or Las Vegas, or any signs of human life except for the road itself. You look around, and you realize that indeed you are in the middle of a desert wilderness! I did see the skeletal carcass of what I think was a baby goat, but no fist-sized tarantulas this time. This is also the point in the race where you now understand what the course and weather are like and is a decision point for the racer to either stay on the original game plan or to make a change right here. I chose to get a little bit more aggressive on the return, even though I knew that I didn’t have the foundation to carry fast speed all the way into Henderson. Still, I think that I made a few minutes riding strong before reaching the final climbs and getting passed by the more talented, fit, and lighter riders in my age group.

RUN: I had brief thoughts of going under five hours for the entire race, and I needed a 1h49min run to do that (I ran 1h50min in Lubbock’s 102F heat), but it wasn’t going to be my day for that. I had long ago resigned to have a solid but “casual” run since there was nothing but a finish line and a medal to yearn for. The incline slope of the run course was just steep enough to slow me to a fast crawl. I saw Jon a few times on the run course, but never Spig or Leroy (they all started 15 before me, and on the run course they ran with or near each other most of the time.) Lee kept about a steady mile in trail of me throughout. Espen caught me on the second of three run loops, then had tendonitis issues. Later on that second loop, I was surprised that he caught up to me a second time…not realizing that he had pulled over. We ran together at my turtle’s pace for a while, but when he couldn’t keep up with me going uphill, I feared that he’d be dropping out (which he did). I didn’t even know that Scott was in the race until I saw an Army triathlon jersey with a familiar face running by. 

I think by the end of the day, Scott was probably the fastest, Jon had a very solid race commensurate with his great training, Spig ran spectacularly well, Leroy and Jim fared OK, and Saul had a hero's race. As for me, I outbiked Saul, Spig and Jon (with his multi-mega-dollar new bike) but maybe I was just fortunate. :)

2011 IRONMAN World Championship 70.3 - Prelude

First off, thanks to Jonathan Hippensteel for encouraging me to get back to writing on my blog. Then again, he encouraged me two months ago. :)

Many friends wanted to hear about my experience in Las Vegas at the Ironman 70.3 World Championship triathlon. This is the first part of my "full report". 

What do you think of when you hear the word “IRONMAN”?

Before I tell my story about the “2011 Marines Ironman World Championship 70.3”, a background into my interpretation of “IRONMAN” is necessary…and that story goes back a little ways…

I finished my first marathon in 1991. I had a running background, but I didn’t “run” my first marathon. It was more of a 2 ½-hour run followed by a 1 ½-hour walk. My official time was 4hr 00m 16s, and despite smelling but not breaking the 4-hour barrier, I promised myself that I was never going to do a marathon again, unless it was part of an Ironman-distance triathlon. I was satisfied then to check this item off my bucket list and move on.

Maybe in 1991, I knew that I might have the potential to do an Ironman-distance triathlon. At that time, though, I certainly hadn’t developed the necessary talent, nor had I possessed the necessary means. There were just a few Ironman-length triathlons in the world back then…THE Ironman on Hawaii’s Big Island that garnered most of the notoriety, two sister Ironman-branded races in British Columbia and New Zealand, and a couple of independent races in Florida and California. And that’s how the Ironman “universe” remained for the next eight years.

At the end of 1997, I pursued the opportunity to complete an Ironman with a bit more seriousness. I still needed both the talent and the means to do an Ironman, and started by addressing the half of the equation that I could control. I put myself on a “3-year plan” so that by the end of 2000, I would be physically fit enough to attempt an Ironman. Because I was on active duty in the Navy, I didn’t know what race I would do or even if I would be in a position to enter a race (That would depend on where I was deployed or stationed). But, I did set a goal to be ready to do an Ironman after three years if the opportunity was there.

My concept of the “IRONMAN” then developed from what I knew about Hawaii, what I had seen about the race on television, and what I had heard. I had this vision of IRONMAN (in Kona) as just the most difficult race on Earth, located in both a beautiful and wicked place for a race. It was a place that you had to prove yourself just to get into, yet once you got there you were warmly greeted in the spirit of Aloha and treated magnificently well. The sister events carrying the IRONMAN brand had the same reputation in their own, local way. Penticton BC is nothing like Kona HI, but the other elements that I identified with the IRONMAN brand (i.e. difficult event, tough course, and outstanding local volunteer support that made you feel special) were known to be there.

So, it was with some excitement in the triathlon world in 1999 that the owner of the IRONMAN race in Canada expanded his operation to start three new IRONMAN-branded events…one in Lake Placid NY, a second on the Florida Gulf Coast, and a third event for Southern California starting in 2000. This expansion significantly increased the ability to participate in an Ironman-distance triathlon. Sure, these new IRONMAN races provided more qualifying opportunities for athletes to earn a chance to personally experience Kona, but it just as much (if not more so) represented the ability to export the Kona experience to the U.S. mainland. Again, don’t confuse the warmth and sunshine of Kona with the New York Adirondacks, but the expectation was to replicate the Kona experience as much as possible with a hint of local flair.

In 2000, I did fulfill my promise and complete my second marathon as the final part of crossing the finish line at IRONMAN California. I later raced the IRONMAN event in Florida, as well as two later expansions to the IRONMAN franchise in Idaho and Wisconsin, before I received an entry slot to Kona. All of my first four Ironman races had the common elements that I identified with the brand…difficult challenge, outstanding local volunteer support, and whatever you call the local version of “Aloha” that made you feel like a special person doing an extraordinary thing.

And when I finally got to Kona to race it, and enjoy the real spirit of Aloha, well, that was just amazing! I really is the Super Bowl of Triathlon with a world championship feeling.

I’ve been fortunate to participate in world championship events in other sports. Each has been replete with ceremony, international flair, fair and high-level competition, and a healthy feeling of spirit and respect. Just being selected to participate in those events was an honor onto itself, and that honor was reaffirmed once I was at the event. Kona, of course, was the same in this regard.

So, fast forward to the present day and IRONMAN’s annual world championship triathlon at half of the classic Kona distance. Again, I wasn’t expecting “Kona”, but as much of a replication of Kona that you could make in Las Vegas. And in a seemingly brilliant stroke of genius, the keepers of the IRONMAN brand relocated the race to Las Vegas and put the event under the direction of the organizer of the renowned Silverman Triathlons. During the first decade of the 21^st Century, when the number of triathlons boomed, many of the new events followed the Kona model in making the athlete/customer experience as special as possible. No matter the distance, many races were catering to the athletes with finisher’s medals, copious swag, food, and amenities. Silverman built its reputation on that kind of athlete experience, and threw in a most difficult triathlon course to boot.

But I had serious reservations before the “2011 Marines Ironman World Championship 70.3” race that the race experience would meet my standard of the classic IRONMAN brand. It was a sense, not just mine, but of some others, that the IRONMAN brand was becoming less focused on the customer experience and more focused on operational efficiency, and that the focus shift was going to remove things from the athlete experience that were perceived to be not just important, but essential to the event.

What do I mean when I say “operational efficiency” and “customer experience”? I attended a great seminar on successful businesses and learned that successful companies are good in three key areas that customers value: They are (1) operationally efficient, (2) product leaders, and engender what I’ll term (3) “customer intimacy”. Often the most successful companies have a sustainable competitive advantage in one dimension and at least parity in the other two. For example, when you think “Operationally Efficient”, you think of the McDonald’s and Wal-Marts of the world. These are the companies that provide good service at great prices, without hassles, and don’t make mistakes. When you buy something from Sony or Apple, you know what kind of quality you are getting…those are the product brand leaders who are the most innovative, and on the leading edge creating the highest quality items. When it comes to pampering customers, go to a Nordstrom’s store. Your service there is customized, personalized, and very responsive. They want to know you, learn what you want and give you satisfaction.

In other words, when you finish an IRONMAN-branded event, you think that you’ve done something special, and you want the experience to affirm that sense of special achievement. In the past, the customer experience focus of the IRONMAN brand delivered just that. But now, the sense of many is that the experience of finishing an IRONMAN is only as special as dining on a Big Mac at McDonalds. Personally, come race week, I was beginning to see many signs that this event in Las Vegas was going to be a (pun intended) Whopper! Maybe, just maybe, I could at least engineer something to make the experience worth the drive across the desert and back.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

World Military Triathlon Championship - 2008

Writer's note: I have decided to start writing this "report", however, in a much more generic and sanitized way than I would prefer. The reason why is that the theme that I really want to promote is the one that focuses on my teammates...the shared experiences that we had as a team and the qualities that make them champions in more than just the sport of triathlon. In order to do that, I would have to write a work of at least 900 pages, like a novel but based entirely in fact, because it would take that long to present and develop the characters of such a story (16 other athletes, 6 support staffers, and a few other non-Americans) and convey the events of the entire two-plus weeks of training, travel and competition through those characters.

The big story of this race, however, is about the people. I was asked by a reporter for the Ventura County Naval Base newspaper what I enjoyed the most about this trip, and it was being in the company of so many talented, special and like-minded/like-vocational people on the journey of a lifetime. I can't truly convey that story in writing...at least not within a week's time. (Better to share sea stories in person and perhaps while also sharing adult beverages.)

Over time, I'll add to this report to include some of the other feelings and thoughts; such as international travel...as a group...with bicycles...or what Estonia is like...or how it feels to win an gold medal in an internation competition and to have the Stars and Stripes raised and the Star Spangled Banner played before hundreds because of what you did...as well as anything else of general applicability. Maybe, in coming months and years, I'll get to write about people one-by-one...and how I wish to race with each one of them again, train with each one of them again, and willing go to battle (if necessary) with each one of them.

To all of you, my loyal readers, I hope you are informed and entertained, but most of all come away with a hope that someday you will get the opportunity to challenge yourself in a triathlon (or any other huge endeavor) in the company with true friends and teammates.

Sincerely,
- Frosty

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15TH CISM WORLD MILITARY TRIATHLON CHAMPIONSHIP
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Puhajarve, Estonia

www.mil.ee/triathlon

WEATHER
Mostly sunny. 21C/70F. West wind 5m/s (11mph)

THE COURSE

SWIM
Freshwater lake. Wetsuit legal at 16C/60F. Two lap swim on a triangular with an Australian (out of water) exit/reentry between laps. Beach start with a straight 350m swim to the first turn.

T1/T2
Grass. On-ground, wheel slot bike racks with adjacent space (no bins) for gear.

BIKE
Three laps of a 13.4km course circling the lake. Very fair championship course. Rolling hills throughout, none being too steep or too long. DRAFT LEGAL as we do this event under ITU rules, just like the Olympics

RUN
Four laps of a 2.5km course. Cross country style over five different surfaces (Asphalt, concrete, dirt road, cinder track, and grass). Mild undulations. Again a very fair championship course.

THE STRATEGY

Mike McCoy (best cyclist), Mike Ferreira (best runner) and I (best swimmer) talked a fair bit over the past two weeks about race strategy in general, but we never sat down together as a threesome and discussed a specific team strategy for this race. I thought that I had a good chance of being the swim leader, or close to the swim leader, so my strategy was to get to/near the front and try to stay there. Ferreira is the weakest of the three in the swim, but strongest in the run. That really left it all up to McCoy to come out of the water in the middle and choose to either hook up with Ferreira behind him, myself in front of him, or go on his own.

THE SWIM

After numerous discussions and alterations behind the scenes, I arrived at the lakeshore on race morning to find the swim course altered from what we had practiced on the day before. I also eager to get into the water for a warm-up for three different reasons...first to get used to the water temperature so that my body is acclimatized to it...second was to get stretched out in the arms, because I was swimming "bent" all week by pulling/leaning to the left instead of swimming straight...third was to break in a new set of goggles that I had strung together the night before.

With a wave of only 23 men widely spread out along the shore of the lake, the start was pretty clean. After a couple of minutes of looking to my left, I felt my fantasy of leading this thing from wire to wire was starting to play out as I see the field falling behind me. Once I started focusing my eyes forward and right towards the first turn, I discovered the reality of one lone swimmer with a short but clear lead.

The first leg of the triangle was the longest. The second would be the shortest but trickiest. When the "final" course was set, it looked from shore like a small grassy island was right next to, if not intersecting, this back leg of the triangle. Upon rounding the turn, I could see the second turn buoy clearly, but the tall grass tapered into the water right in line with the buoy. I saw the leader cut in (left) to swim clear of the weedy shallows, and I followed in concurrence.

The third leg back to shore was a little interesting and did require some navigation skills. The start beach and the exit beach were in different places, so that meant sighting on one set of landmarks the first time around, and a different set the second time. Also, there was a discernable crosswind (left to right) that was pushing me to the right...a strange feeling after I had been going off course to the left all week. I could see the leader gradually pulling farther away, while I was in second alone and just a pair of swimmers close (but not close enough to touch or draft) behind.

I was assisted in sighting on the second lap by seeing the splashing of the elite women's wave (that started eight minutes behind me) approaching the first turn. The elite men would start well behind me, so I continued to enjoy clean water the rest of the way. After clearing the island and rounding the final turn, the situation hadn't changed...the leader was still moving faster and my two closest pursuers were holding their position.

T1

Before the race, I made the tactical decision to not clip by biking shoes to my bike, as is my custom. The course from the transition area to the main road and the bike loops is a paved bike trail with some sharp, blind curves. For conservative safety, I elected to sacrifice time in T1 to put on the biking shoes instead of trying to step into the shoes on or after the bike path while dodging around other racers (and wayward pedestrians) on a curvy path. The grassy transition area and short asphalt run to the mount line also made it safe to do this without ruining my cleats. This did allow my two closest pursuers to close up on me...

THE BIKE

...So that once we were clear of the bike path and up the first hill, we were all together as a flight of three.

The course has rolling hills throughout, but the hills are more difficult on the front half of the loop, which consists of narrow country roads, and easier on the main highway that completes the loop. Early on, I sensed that my "climbing legs" weren't quite there on this day, and that would be an issue in trying to keep up with my two cycling partners, a German and a Latvian. Actually, the worry would be in keeping up with the German, as the Latvian went into full wheelsucker mode. Throughout the first lap, either the German led the threesome or I led the threesome, but never the Latvian. The Latvian's strategy was to be a leech on my backside, and since I wasn't particularly strong on this day, I didn't have any suitable defense against that strategy.

We finished the first lap as a threesome. Climbing the first hill, Don Golden tells me that we're now 1:30 behind the leader...not good news as we are falling behind him, and having one uncooperative drafting partner isn't helping. Also, the German is starting to create a little gap between him and I on this climb. I "think" I have this move covered, believing that my superior weight will allow me to catch up on the ensuing downhills. Over the next couple of minutes, I discover that I really don't have the move covered. The German pulls out to about a five second advantage, and I can't close the gap and/or shake off my leech without an extraordinary burst that would poison me with lactic acid.

As I come off the last significant downhill on the backside, I'm still 5-10 seconds behind the German, who has occasionally been looking back to see where I was and if I'm going to catch up to work with him again. As I rollout from the bottom of the hill, I finally see a bicycle wheel out of the left corner of my eye and my first thought is "Finally, the leech has decided to work". One instant later, I realize that the wheel belongs to somebody else, a Frenchman, who is immediately followed by McCoy. New thought to McCoy: "Thank God you're here!" McCoy was part of a threesome of his own, with the Frenchman and a Finnish athlete. Once we became a five-some (or four-plus-one-leech-some), it took no time at all to reel in the German to become a flight of six.

Starting the final bike lap, Don shouts out that we are over two minutes down to the lone leader. I may have been the only person to understand this message, and should have relayed it to McCoy, since he didn't know that there was a single racer ahead of us and that, by all likelihood, this six-pack would finish in second through seventh place. Nonetheless, I was busy with my own issues...I was clearly the weakest climber in the group. The Latvian leech was able to stick to the tail end of the six-car train without extra difficulty, but I was at risk of being dropped unless I worked my way to the front of the group before each climb. It became an effective strategy...get a little head start before each climb, force the other riders to go around me to go by me, and latch on to the rear of the train at the crest of the hill. Then, work back forward before the next hill. This allowed me to stay in the group all the way to the main highway, and all the way back to the resort.

We had a little adventure in returning to T2, as we had to turn off the main highway at a pedestrian crossing to get back on the winding bike path. The Frenchman sprinted ahead on a little breakaway on the highway, so fast in fact that he missed the turnoff. That allowed me to be second in line behind the German, and more importantly in front of McCoy. My bike rack was adjacent to, but downrange, of McCoy's, so it was important that I enter T2 first to avoid colliding or swerving around each other.

T2

Six in together, six out together. After an 89-minute warm-up, the silver and bronze medals were going to be strictly decided by a 10k run.

RUN

The first 100 meters portended the final result so clearly that the next 9,900 meters were practically unnecessary. The German and the Frenchman took off in front together. Then McCoy with the lazy Latvian. I follow next after a gap, and the Finn trails me after another gap. Like the bike, my legs feel good, but not exceptional on this day.

The run course circles the resort property. After about a kilometer, as the path approaches the main road, I see a massive hoard of what looks like 17 cyclists from the men's elite wave swarm by. Amazing how my 17-minute head start has now been sliced down to about 4 minutes...and how my peaceful little run in the countryside is going to get spoiled.

McCoy and I had similar run splits at Pt. Mugu, but after that first kilometer, I could tell that he was in better cruise mode on this day. I was surprised that the Latvian, for all of his "efforts" to save energy and feed of the work of others on the bicycle ride, was going to finish no better than fifth. Perhaps if he had worked together with me and the German, or even just with the German instead of sucking my wheel, he could have made it to T2 in front of McCoy's three-pack and given himself a better chance to medal. Halfway through the first lap, I was certainly consigned to sixth place.

At this point, I got a good glimpse of the leader for the first time at a point where the run course overlaps in opposite directions. By his race suit, I could tell that he was Finnish, and that knowledge wasn't comforting. The Veteran's team competition is decided by taking the average of your nation's two fastest men's times and adding that to your nation's fastest woman's time. I didn't know if the Finns had a woman in the competition, and if so, our best woman, Heidi Grimm, was a sure bet to win with a superior time. However, it seemed like the Finnish men (in first and seventh) were at an advantage over McCoy (fourth) and I (sixth). So, my work wasn't done.

Early on the second lap, I caught sight of Ferreira on the run. He was running as strong as usual, but well behind the leading seven. He was 15th out of the water and rode the bike with no drafting help. Though he managed to move up to 10th by T2, he was 4+ minutes behind my six-pack and had also been overtaken by the Gang of 17.

Late on the second lap, I see Kent Blankenship "cheering" me on, telling me to dig deep because "We really need your time". Honestly, I appreciate him telling me the truth rather than having to hear generic happy horses*$@ like "Good job, you look great!", or even a lie like "You've got to start running or else you'll miss the midnight cutoff." This is the point in the race where you're tired and you've come a long way, but you still don't have the finish line in clear view...though you know that it's getting closer. In this case, Kent's information validated what I was seeing...the Finnish men have a lead and I need to try to keep it close and/or move up.

Starting lap 3, I see Jay Calvert pull out of T2 right in front of me, with Phil Giarraputo a few dozen meters in front of him. I'm hoping that I can pace myself off of those two, and for a while, I can keep them in sight. That lasts about a half lap as not only are they steadily pulling away, but now I'm getting passed by both the Gang of 17 as well as other elite division racers one and two laps behind the Gang. I later see Heidi on this lap, looking strong, and thus calming my fears about the Finns.

At the end of this lap, Kent is still there giving me the same, kind, truthful words. It is written that the truth will set you free. True, but the truth sometimes hurts, and I've got to handle the truth for another 10 minutes.

The final lap is mostly uneventful...just try to keep things rolling along with tripping, tying up, or falling apart. I think Justine Whipple catches up to me late in the lap (it's her third lap), but I'm inside 400m to go and light up the afterburner. There's no one for me to catch in front, and no one close to running me down from behind...at this point, it's a matter of stopping the clock for the benefit of the team competition. As it is, I sprint to the line and reach it on the heels of the 17th and last member of the elite Gang.

Stopping the clock at 2:09:11, I was exactly one minute behind the Latvian leech, 1:30 ahead of seventh place, 2:11 ahead of Ferreira, and 2:22 ahead of the second Finn. The leading Finn won the Veteran's race in 2:04:20. McCoy finished 16 seconds behind the third-place Frenchman, and 1:47 up on me.

The Finns did have a better men's twosome than the USA, but it turns out that they didn't have a woman in the Veteran's race, and our real competition turned out to be the French and the Canadians. Heidi and Tina Eakin went 1-2 for the USA in the women's Veteran's race, ensuring the team gold for the USA (Heidi-1st, McCoy-4th, myself-6th) over the French (Women-5th and Men 3rd & 10th) and Canadians (Women-6th and Men 12th and 18th).