I felt confident going into my first half-Ironman distance triathlon at Rev3 Williamsburg last weekend.
Just a few weeks ago I suffered through a 300k bike ride through the hills and farmland of northwest New Jersey. Earlier this spring I ran a 3:02:00 at my first Boston Marathon. And from all indicators my swim was really progressing. I dedicated significant time over the winter and throughout the spring to work on my technique and build a bigger base. It was starting to pay off. I use a simple 15x100 meter main set in the pool as one of my benchmarks. If I hit goal pace for every single 100, I know things are looking good. If my pace tails off towards the end, and the seconds start adding on to each interval, I know I have work to do.
So, instead of feeling overwhelmed or nervous that I was about to race my first half distance triathlon after several years of Olympic distance racing, I felt confidently prepared.
Judging by the weather forecast, race day was shaping up to be absolutely perfect conditions - high 60's for the start, climbing into the high 70's or low 80's by the time I hoped to cross the finish line; sunshine and blue skies all day.
My biggest disappointment, though, was that my new Timex Factory Team kit wasn't shipped in time. Of course the delivery date was set for a few days after the race. I guess it wasn't all bad. I raced in gear that's familiar, stuff I've worn for years. "Don't try anything new on race day," right? (Fortunately, the kit has arrived since.)
The worst part about race weekend was simply getting to Williamsburg. In typical I-95 fashion, construction, accidents, and traffic made a two and a half hour drive into a four hour drive. Normally I wouldn't mind a four hour car ride but my wife and I hoped to have at least a little time to see some of the historic parts of Williamsburg and Jamestown that afternoon. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Though, we were able to take in some of the attractions on Monday.
We finally arrived at the race expo, nestled in the corner of the large Warhill Sports Complex. As we pulled in, something seemed familiar. Ironically, some seven years ago, I played a soccer match at the stadium in the complex. My thoughts drifted back to that warm, humid, summer night when my NJ Rangers squad had one of our best performances of the season (as did I). As my attention came back to the present, I hoped to draw on some of those positive memories for my performance the following day.
Packet pick-up was fairly standard. The only other to-do item was to buy two new CO2 cartridges. If you read my blog about the Princeton 300k, you already know why I needed more.
The revamped course in Williamsburg is designed with two distinct transition areas. In other words, T1 (swim to bike) and T2 (bike to run) are in two different locations, separated by about a 15 minute drive. I've never raced with this format before, so it forced a bit more mental and logistical preparation for race day.
We drove down to T1, located about 200 yards off the shores of the James River, just north of Jamestown Settlement (that was for the day after the race). In the parking lot, I pumped up my tires, and took my bike for a quick test ride to run through the gears to ensure they were smooth. No issues. Having just gotten a tune up a couple weeks ago, there wasn't too much to worry about. I racked my bike and got back into the car with Stephanie to head back to attend the mandatory athlete meeting at the expo.
Athlete meetings are like picking a need from a haystack. There's a lot of information in about 20-25 minutes, but there was really only one or two things I HAD to know. The most important item: the water temperature of the river. "Eighty degrees," the race director announced. "This is a non-wetsuit legal swim." A couple years ago, when my confidence in the water was significantly lower, this would have planted a seed of anxiety. However, after hearing the announcement, it was just another piece of information I needed to plan for race morning.
Dinner that evening was fairly simple. My parents finally managed to arrive in Williamsburg after a 10+ hour ride. They met us at this restaurant called "Food for Thought," which was a casual place, but good food. Several other triathletes had the same idea. Being in the car a fair part of the afternoon, and attending to all the pre-race festivities, I really never had time to actually eat lunch. Instead, I relied on my mobile food pantry, eating a couple of avocados, some almonds, flax seed crackers, and a banana as my "lunch." I wasn't really all that hungry for most of the morning and early afternoon though, thanks to a solid breakfast before we hit the road: 3-egg omelet with tons of veggies, sautéed kale and swiss chard on the side, a few slices of tomato, mozzarella, and basil, and a small scoop of quinoa. Oh, and a couple strips of bacon. What good breakfast doesn't include bacon?
For dinner I pieced together a couple sides, appetizers and an entree to create my own version of a good pre-race meal, I suppose: salad, chicken with a cilantro pesto, steamed broccoli, and mashed sweet potatoes. I did also have some raw veggies and hummus. I've tried to stay away from chickpeas (and all legumes, in fact) as of late, but I knew I needed to make up for my somewhat erratic lunch.
Before going to bed, I fell into my pre-race routine of making water bottles (one with a mixture of UCAN Superstarch and the other plain water), packed all my races things for the following morning, and prepped my coffee and food. Around 10:30pm, it was lights out.
"Craig, Craig! Wake up!" I heard Stephanie say in that whisper-yelling tone. The 4:45am alarm on my phone had been buzzing for a minute or so, but the sound of it was drowned out by the loud, rattling AC unit in our hotel room. I jumped out of bed. (No, literally. Stephanie has always said how deliberate I am when I wake up and get out of bed. What can I say, I'm excited to start the day.) I quickly fell into the motions I thought through the night before:
I didn't put much thought into devising a new elaborate nutrition/hydration strategy for the run. It was fairly simple. As much as I despise the product for everyday use (or even remotely regular use), Coke is extremely effective from a performance standpoint. I don't do well with Gatorade anymore, and I'd much prefer the simpler sugars in Coke anyway. I was in performance/race mode, so I went with it. I used Coke and water on the run.
On the 15 minute shuttle ride to T1, I sat next to a very friendly guy in his mid- to late-thirties. He told me about his three young kids under the age of eight. We talked about the challenges of trying to fit in triathlon training with dad duty. It's a serious undertaking and takes serious commitment (and sacrifice). As someone who is not a father yet, I admire the countless people out there who do this juggling act everyday.
Much like T2, my T1 set-up was fairly simple and clean. Clipped in my cycling shoes, put my two water bottles in their respective cages, and placed my helmet on the aero bars with sunglasses inside. I then made my way down to the water to get in a solid 10 minute warm-up. Unlike some races I've done, there was a dedicated warm-up area in the river, which I really appreciated. After a few smooth 50 yard efforts, I slowly made my way to the shore and spotted my wife. I was so grateful her and my parents made it to the start, and that I got the chance to talk to them beforehand. That doesn't always happen.
Alright, game time!
The first two hundred meters or so of the swim were…interesting. Still fairly close to the shoreline, some athletes opted to actually run through the water instead of swim. For some, this approach was actually faster. (Who cares about how you're supposed to do it, right?) I did my own version of swimming interspersed with a few run-and-dives into the shallow water ahead of me. Nonetheless, once we hit the first turn buoy, things really started to smooth out. I was never quite able to find anyone's heels to draft off of for too long. But, I did notice I began passing a number of pink caps from the wave in front of my own. This gave me a boost of confidence. After only a few hundred meters, I found myself in a pretty comfortable rhythm that I carried the entire swim.
I used to fear the swim. It was my biggest limiter. For the first time, though, I really felt it wasn't holding me back. Aside from looking straight into the sun the final few hundred meters and not being able to the sight the swim exit (this is when I really just followed those in front of me), I felt strong, fresh, and comfortable the entire way.
Swim: 00:33:54
The first few miles of the bike were all about waking my legs up. I pushed a slightly higher cadence just to activate some of those cycling muscles. After only a few miles, I found myself in a small pack of about five or six riders. When I say pack, I mean clustered together, but strung out single-file with some space between each. It's non-drafting, though if you ask some of the athletes, there was certainly a fair number of times when athletes breached the three-bike length space requirement between them and the athlete in front of them. There was more than one exchange I saw between athletes who weren't happy about all the drafting.
My nutrition strategy on the bike was again, simple (hopefully you're sensing a theme):
The only data I was able to use was time. This wasn't the original plan. It was the first race I planned to use my heart rate monitor, which I use from time to time in training, but have tended to rely on feel and perceived effort for races (and a large percentage of my training). I mostly wanted heart rate data to gauge my bike effort to make sure I wasn't over-exerting myself to the extent where I risked blowing up on the run. Well, once I hopped on my bike out of T1, I noticed my heart rate monitor had stopped working. "Well, so much for that plan," I thought to myself.
To be honest, though, I really didn't use my watch all that much throughout the race (this may have been a mistake on the run, which I'll get to). As my first race at the half-Ironman distance I wanted to "feel" it out. Don't get my wrong, I certainly had specific time goals I was shooting for, but in the back of my mind I knew I probably wouldn't destroy myself. My "A" race isn't until later this year. (For those interested in some of the sport psychology around goal setting and suffering, check out this podcast at Endurance Planet.) Not to mention, I've always valued perceived effort as my primary feedback, and I wanted this to be somewhat of a baseline.
The final few miles had a number of short inclines and rollers. On the inclines, I began coming out of the saddle more and more. After two and half hours bent over in the aero position (well, mostly) the hip-flexors get extremely tight. Unfortunately, tight hip-flexors are NOT what you want to run with. When they are tight, the result is the characteristic sinking of the hips. Essentially, instead of being able to draw a mostly straight-line from the head, through the pelvis, and to the feet, the displaced hips create more of an obtuse angle rather than a straight-line.
Why does all this matter? Running economy. When the hips start to sink, its much less efficient. Inefficiency means greater energy consumption, and that's not what you want during a long-distance triathlon (or really any event involving running).
I made a final right-hand turn into the Warhill Sports Complex. I spotted my dad, gave a wave, and quickly returned my focus to sliding my feet out of my cycling shoes to allow for a quicker transition (as opposed to unclipping and running with cycling shoes through transition). My wife and mom stood along the barricade of T2 near my designated transition box. I gave them a wave as well, and was quickly on my way to the run course.
There were some advantageous and challenging aspects about the run course. On the downside, half the course was on a packed gravel trail that undulated through the woods of the park. I'm not the most seasoned trail runner, but I gave it my best shot. The undulating terrain - short, steep inclines, followed by quick descents - made it difficult to find any sort of consistent pace. It was nice to have the free speed on the way down, but negotiating both the uphills and downhills slowed my pace a bit.
On the plus side, the trail was obviously shaded, providing a nice canopy blocking the warm mid-day sun. The aspect I liked most, though, was how spectator friendly the run course was. It was a series of four - 3.2 mile loops, half on the trail, half on asphalt. The psychological boost of running past my family four times was huge.
My main goal on the run: pass all the people who passed me on the bike (and then some). Once I passed one, I set my sights on the next one to track down. In fact, there were only three people I can recall who passed me on the run, and one of them ended up being the overall female winner. I methodically turned my legs over, pushing what I thought was a decent, but conservative pace on the first lap (about 7 minute miles). I wanted to feel out the terrain instead of turning up the intensity too quickly since I was able to actually run the course the day before. This may have been a mistake. Though I continued to consistently pass people (I went from 54th to 33rd during the course of 13.1 miles), my pace slowly dropped. In addition, because I went by feel more than checking my watch consistently, I didn't have the feedback to push me and hold myself accountable. As a result, I finished the race feeling as though I left a little something on the course. (This was especially true since I missed getting on the podium for my age group by one spot.)
As I mentioned before, my run nutrition/hydration was simple. It went according to plan. I ran the first lap on just water, and then switched to Coke and water at the end of lap 2. From then on, I'd take a sip or two of Coke, wash it down with water, and pour another cup of water over my head to try and stay cool.
On the last lap I started feeling some real fatigue in my legs. But, like endurance athletes always do, I found some energy reserve deep within to "kick" that final mile. I made the final right turn into the finish chute. It was pure bliss. I spotted my wife and mom along the barricade (I passed my dad a hundred yards back). I gave them high fives, and in my final strides, I felt a wave of joy wash over me. I crossed under the blue Rev3 finish arch and was greeted by a glorious iced-cold wet towel. Incredible!
Run: 1:38:42
I know I have my fair share of work ahead to get my bike-run where I want it to be, but in that moment, I just wanted to take a seat, relax, and enjoy the beautiful afternoon.
Finish time: 4:49:35 (4th in 25-29 age group / 33rd overall)
Just a few weeks ago I suffered through a 300k bike ride through the hills and farmland of northwest New Jersey. Earlier this spring I ran a 3:02:00 at my first Boston Marathon. And from all indicators my swim was really progressing. I dedicated significant time over the winter and throughout the spring to work on my technique and build a bigger base. It was starting to pay off. I use a simple 15x100 meter main set in the pool as one of my benchmarks. If I hit goal pace for every single 100, I know things are looking good. If my pace tails off towards the end, and the seconds start adding on to each interval, I know I have work to do.
So, instead of feeling overwhelmed or nervous that I was about to race my first half distance triathlon after several years of Olympic distance racing, I felt confidently prepared.
Judging by the weather forecast, race day was shaping up to be absolutely perfect conditions - high 60's for the start, climbing into the high 70's or low 80's by the time I hoped to cross the finish line; sunshine and blue skies all day.
My biggest disappointment, though, was that my new Timex Factory Team kit wasn't shipped in time. Of course the delivery date was set for a few days after the race. I guess it wasn't all bad. I raced in gear that's familiar, stuff I've worn for years. "Don't try anything new on race day," right? (Fortunately, the kit has arrived since.)
The worst part about race weekend was simply getting to Williamsburg. In typical I-95 fashion, construction, accidents, and traffic made a two and a half hour drive into a four hour drive. Normally I wouldn't mind a four hour car ride but my wife and I hoped to have at least a little time to see some of the historic parts of Williamsburg and Jamestown that afternoon. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. Though, we were able to take in some of the attractions on Monday.
We finally arrived at the race expo, nestled in the corner of the large Warhill Sports Complex. As we pulled in, something seemed familiar. Ironically, some seven years ago, I played a soccer match at the stadium in the complex. My thoughts drifted back to that warm, humid, summer night when my NJ Rangers squad had one of our best performances of the season (as did I). As my attention came back to the present, I hoped to draw on some of those positive memories for my performance the following day.
Packet pick-up was fairly standard. The only other to-do item was to buy two new CO2 cartridges. If you read my blog about the Princeton 300k, you already know why I needed more.
The revamped course in Williamsburg is designed with two distinct transition areas. In other words, T1 (swim to bike) and T2 (bike to run) are in two different locations, separated by about a 15 minute drive. I've never raced with this format before, so it forced a bit more mental and logistical preparation for race day.
We drove down to T1, located about 200 yards off the shores of the James River, just north of Jamestown Settlement (that was for the day after the race). In the parking lot, I pumped up my tires, and took my bike for a quick test ride to run through the gears to ensure they were smooth. No issues. Having just gotten a tune up a couple weeks ago, there wasn't too much to worry about. I racked my bike and got back into the car with Stephanie to head back to attend the mandatory athlete meeting at the expo.
Athlete meetings are like picking a need from a haystack. There's a lot of information in about 20-25 minutes, but there was really only one or two things I HAD to know. The most important item: the water temperature of the river. "Eighty degrees," the race director announced. "This is a non-wetsuit legal swim." A couple years ago, when my confidence in the water was significantly lower, this would have planted a seed of anxiety. However, after hearing the announcement, it was just another piece of information I needed to plan for race morning.
Dinner that evening was fairly simple. My parents finally managed to arrive in Williamsburg after a 10+ hour ride. They met us at this restaurant called "Food for Thought," which was a casual place, but good food. Several other triathletes had the same idea. Being in the car a fair part of the afternoon, and attending to all the pre-race festivities, I really never had time to actually eat lunch. Instead, I relied on my mobile food pantry, eating a couple of avocados, some almonds, flax seed crackers, and a banana as my "lunch." I wasn't really all that hungry for most of the morning and early afternoon though, thanks to a solid breakfast before we hit the road: 3-egg omelet with tons of veggies, sautéed kale and swiss chard on the side, a few slices of tomato, mozzarella, and basil, and a small scoop of quinoa. Oh, and a couple strips of bacon. What good breakfast doesn't include bacon?
For dinner I pieced together a couple sides, appetizers and an entree to create my own version of a good pre-race meal, I suppose: salad, chicken with a cilantro pesto, steamed broccoli, and mashed sweet potatoes. I did also have some raw veggies and hummus. I've tried to stay away from chickpeas (and all legumes, in fact) as of late, but I knew I needed to make up for my somewhat erratic lunch.
Before going to bed, I fell into my pre-race routine of making water bottles (one with a mixture of UCAN Superstarch and the other plain water), packed all my races things for the following morning, and prepped my coffee and food. Around 10:30pm, it was lights out.
****
"Craig, Craig! Wake up!" I heard Stephanie say in that whisper-yelling tone. The 4:45am alarm on my phone had been buzzing for a minute or so, but the sound of it was drowned out by the loud, rattling AC unit in our hotel room. I jumped out of bed. (No, literally. Stephanie has always said how deliberate I am when I wake up and get out of bed. What can I say, I'm excited to start the day.) I quickly fell into the motions I thought through the night before:
- Contacts: In
- Race kit, hat, and sunglasses: On
- Coffee: Brewing (Yes, I did the same trick I did in Boston where I brought my own coffee beans, ground them, cut a hole in one of the coffee packs provided in the hotel room, emptied the package contents, then refilled the filter with my own coffee.)
- Breakfast: Made (Not only did this consist of coconut oil mixed in with my coffee, but in a cup I mashed together some Superstarch, water, banana, avocado, and some almonds.)
- Water bottles and transition bags with all my gear: Check
I didn't put much thought into devising a new elaborate nutrition/hydration strategy for the run. It was fairly simple. As much as I despise the product for everyday use (or even remotely regular use), Coke is extremely effective from a performance standpoint. I don't do well with Gatorade anymore, and I'd much prefer the simpler sugars in Coke anyway. I was in performance/race mode, so I went with it. I used Coke and water on the run.
On the 15 minute shuttle ride to T1, I sat next to a very friendly guy in his mid- to late-thirties. He told me about his three young kids under the age of eight. We talked about the challenges of trying to fit in triathlon training with dad duty. It's a serious undertaking and takes serious commitment (and sacrifice). As someone who is not a father yet, I admire the countless people out there who do this juggling act everyday.
Much like T2, my T1 set-up was fairly simple and clean. Clipped in my cycling shoes, put my two water bottles in their respective cages, and placed my helmet on the aero bars with sunglasses inside. I then made my way down to the water to get in a solid 10 minute warm-up. Unlike some races I've done, there was a dedicated warm-up area in the river, which I really appreciated. After a few smooth 50 yard efforts, I slowly made my way to the shore and spotted my wife. I was so grateful her and my parents made it to the start, and that I got the chance to talk to them beforehand. That doesn't always happen.
Alright, game time!
 |
****
The first two hundred meters or so of the swim were…interesting. Still fairly close to the shoreline, some athletes opted to actually run through the water instead of swim. For some, this approach was actually faster. (Who cares about how you're supposed to do it, right?) I did my own version of swimming interspersed with a few run-and-dives into the shallow water ahead of me. Nonetheless, once we hit the first turn buoy, things really started to smooth out. I was never quite able to find anyone's heels to draft off of for too long. But, I did notice I began passing a number of pink caps from the wave in front of my own. This gave me a boost of confidence. After only a few hundred meters, I found myself in a pretty comfortable rhythm that I carried the entire swim.
I used to fear the swim. It was my biggest limiter. For the first time, though, I really felt it wasn't holding me back. Aside from looking straight into the sun the final few hundred meters and not being able to the sight the swim exit (this is when I really just followed those in front of me), I felt strong, fresh, and comfortable the entire way.
Swim: 00:33:54
****
 |
My nutrition strategy on the bike was again, simple (hopefully you're sensing a theme):
- one bottle with UCAN Superstarch - sip on it throughout
- another plain bottle to sip on throughout
- Three 80 calorie packets of Justin's Almond Nut Butter (my version of a gel, I suppose) spaced about 40 minutes apart
- Grab a water bottle at any of the three aid stations for added water, some to drink, but mostly to poor on myself to stay cool.
The only data I was able to use was time. This wasn't the original plan. It was the first race I planned to use my heart rate monitor, which I use from time to time in training, but have tended to rely on feel and perceived effort for races (and a large percentage of my training). I mostly wanted heart rate data to gauge my bike effort to make sure I wasn't over-exerting myself to the extent where I risked blowing up on the run. Well, once I hopped on my bike out of T1, I noticed my heart rate monitor had stopped working. "Well, so much for that plan," I thought to myself.
To be honest, though, I really didn't use my watch all that much throughout the race (this may have been a mistake on the run, which I'll get to). As my first race at the half-Ironman distance I wanted to "feel" it out. Don't get my wrong, I certainly had specific time goals I was shooting for, but in the back of my mind I knew I probably wouldn't destroy myself. My "A" race isn't until later this year. (For those interested in some of the sport psychology around goal setting and suffering, check out this podcast at Endurance Planet.) Not to mention, I've always valued perceived effort as my primary feedback, and I wanted this to be somewhat of a baseline.
The final few miles had a number of short inclines and rollers. On the inclines, I began coming out of the saddle more and more. After two and half hours bent over in the aero position (well, mostly) the hip-flexors get extremely tight. Unfortunately, tight hip-flexors are NOT what you want to run with. When they are tight, the result is the characteristic sinking of the hips. Essentially, instead of being able to draw a mostly straight-line from the head, through the pelvis, and to the feet, the displaced hips create more of an obtuse angle rather than a straight-line.
Why does all this matter? Running economy. When the hips start to sink, its much less efficient. Inefficiency means greater energy consumption, and that's not what you want during a long-distance triathlon (or really any event involving running).
I made a final right-hand turn into the Warhill Sports Complex. I spotted my dad, gave a wave, and quickly returned my focus to sliding my feet out of my cycling shoes to allow for a quicker transition (as opposed to unclipping and running with cycling shoes through transition). My wife and mom stood along the barricade of T2 near my designated transition box. I gave them a wave as well, and was quickly on my way to the run course.
Bike: 2:32:19
****
There were some advantageous and challenging aspects about the run course. On the downside, half the course was on a packed gravel trail that undulated through the woods of the park. I'm not the most seasoned trail runner, but I gave it my best shot. The undulating terrain - short, steep inclines, followed by quick descents - made it difficult to find any sort of consistent pace. It was nice to have the free speed on the way down, but negotiating both the uphills and downhills slowed my pace a bit.
On the plus side, the trail was obviously shaded, providing a nice canopy blocking the warm mid-day sun. The aspect I liked most, though, was how spectator friendly the run course was. It was a series of four - 3.2 mile loops, half on the trail, half on asphalt. The psychological boost of running past my family four times was huge.
My main goal on the run: pass all the people who passed me on the bike (and then some). Once I passed one, I set my sights on the next one to track down. In fact, there were only three people I can recall who passed me on the run, and one of them ended up being the overall female winner. I methodically turned my legs over, pushing what I thought was a decent, but conservative pace on the first lap (about 7 minute miles). I wanted to feel out the terrain instead of turning up the intensity too quickly since I was able to actually run the course the day before. This may have been a mistake. Though I continued to consistently pass people (I went from 54th to 33rd during the course of 13.1 miles), my pace slowly dropped. In addition, because I went by feel more than checking my watch consistently, I didn't have the feedback to push me and hold myself accountable. As a result, I finished the race feeling as though I left a little something on the course. (This was especially true since I missed getting on the podium for my age group by one spot.)
As I mentioned before, my run nutrition/hydration was simple. It went according to plan. I ran the first lap on just water, and then switched to Coke and water at the end of lap 2. From then on, I'd take a sip or two of Coke, wash it down with water, and pour another cup of water over my head to try and stay cool.
On the last lap I started feeling some real fatigue in my legs. But, like endurance athletes always do, I found some energy reserve deep within to "kick" that final mile. I made the final right turn into the finish chute. It was pure bliss. I spotted my wife and mom along the barricade (I passed my dad a hundred yards back). I gave them high fives, and in my final strides, I felt a wave of joy wash over me. I crossed under the blue Rev3 finish arch and was greeted by a glorious iced-cold wet towel. Incredible!
Run: 1:38:42
****
I reunited with my wife and family after grabbing a couple of waters. I knew I could've given a little more on the run, but I couldn't otherwise have scripted a better way to break into long-course racing. My swim and bike were exactly where I wanted them to be. I know I have my fair share of work ahead to get my bike-run where I want it to be, but in that moment, I just wanted to take a seat, relax, and enjoy the beautiful afternoon.
Finish time: 4:49:35 (4th in 25-29 age group / 33rd overall)
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