Body vs Earth Sprint Triathlon, Earth Wins.

It should have been called the Swim with Bare Feet, Swim with Two Wheels, Swim with Shoes.

We woke up to pouring rain, we swam in it, biked in it, ran in it, and cheered everyone else on in it.

Char and I arrived early, in the pouring rain and pitch black sky, to prep.  I was cold and soaked before it was even time to don my first ever swim cap (it came in the race packet) and head down to the beach for the mass start.  My teeth were chattering, either from the cold or nerves, or both.  Thankfully, Char had to work early, so she was there as my coach and support team.

For my first open water swim, this one was a doozy.  The first 50 meters or so were fine.  A little bumping, a little frothy, watching the kelp wave along under the water.  As soon as we got into the deep stuff, the 30 mile an hour gusts kicked up the chop and it was all I could do to keep my head above water.  I could feel tiny water gremlins pulling at my legs and singing songs that in ages past lulled unsuspecting sailors to their deaths.  I might have finished with three or four folks behind me.  But I didn't ever have to ask for help from the lifeguards in the kayaks and I will count this one as a success.

The stuff of my nightmares.

There were, thankfully, no sharks.  That I could see, anyways.

The bike started out well.  The roads were slick as ice, but the tailwind was incredible on the way out.  Which means, well, you know, the way back was not so nice.  After I just managed to not kill myself on any tight turns, bumpy low-water crossings, and puddle covered potholes, it was time to fight for my life against an arctic wind replete with tiny gremlin snipers hiding in the trees firing ice bullets at my lips.  Seriously, it hurt, a lot!

I managed to fly past just about everyone that came into view, including a large number of people on fancy road bikes with aero bars.  Just because your bike and kit make you look fast, doesn't mean you are fast.  There's always some homely, hairy 'squatch like me ready to fly past you like you're standing still.  Just not in the water.

My second transition was as smooth as the first, with Charla's amazing support and coaching, and I was off into the run portion.

About a quarter mile down the road the course turned up into a rolling grassy knoll.  Over the top and the course became a nightmare of rocks, slick and sucking mud, grass covering mud and rocks, and more tiny gremlins with little sticks trying to poke you off balance.  Seriously, what's with the gremlins everywhere?

The course was definitely not a fast one, it was straight verticals up the sides of rocky, muddy slopes, then back down the other side before climbing again.  I passed more people than I can count again, each one cursing my name under their breath.  Maybe they brought forth the gremlins, I don't know.

At one of the 10,000 hilltops the course summited, each about the height of Base Camp One on Mt. Everest, there was a water point.  The kind gentlemen in the soaked t-shirt asked me politely if I would like some water as he held out a styrofoam cup.  I looked up and down and all around.  I was the meat in a water sandwich and had been for almost 90 minutes.  I declined.

When the trail finally tumbled back out on the road for the final sprint to the finish line, I was alone and cruised into the finish line one hour and forty-seven minutes after it had all started.  I didn't even feel tired right then but about four hours later would collapse into a coma on my warm, soft couch with a cat sleeping on my chest and a dog huffing into my arm.

My first open water, trail run, windy, freezing, soaked, sprint triathlon?  Done.

Well, that was... wait for it... Hotter 'n Hell!

We spent the first evening at the HH100 Expo.  I've never seen so many bike vendors in one place before.  Lots of neat stuff, some of it really cheap, and it was just exciting to be surrounded by so much cycling culture.

Outside we found some dinner, Carribean chicken with veggies and rice, and sat down to watch the criterium race zoom past.  Those men and women are fast!  We were sitting a few meters from a really sharp 90 degree turn and so there were lots of crashes too!  I needed some more food so we got some home cooked potato chips with a kimchi/bacon/mayo sauce from the Gypsy Kit.  Awesome!

Yes, I'm feeding my face while the crit racers are riding in 100+ degree heat.

The next morning we were up at 4am and on the road for the hour long drive to Wichita Falls.  For the first time all summer I made it to the start line with plenty of time to spare.  There were thousands of riders and I tried to place myself near the back of my start gate.  That should have put me with riders that expected to finish in about 6 hours.

A local high school choir sang the National Anthem, a gun went off and there was a flyover by some small stunt planes.  It was another couple minutes before I made it to the start line and then things got interesting.

You never know what's going to happen with such a motley collection of riders, some with plenty of experience and some that look like they just bought their bike and kit from the expo the night before.

Here it goes:

Mile 5 - Someone crashed, again.  A few riders bumped together deep inside a group, and one lady started ping-ponging around before going down hard, with two or three riders behind her also eating pavement.

Smartest thing I've ever done, each
water point listed on my top tube.

In the first few miles I saw more flats and wrecks than in my entire last year of riding.  I didn't know what was going on but it seemed like everyone was crashing or flatting out everywhere I looked.  Lots of dropped water bottles for everyone to dodge or run over didn't help.

Mile 10 - There's a big turn to the left, across the railroad tracks.  Just before I got there I could hear bells ringing and saw a police officer waving his arms to stop riders but I was already too far into the tracks.  I looked up and saw the arm dropping and I ducked my head just in time to slide under.  I'm pretty sure someone behind me hit the arm.  Someone next to me breathed a sigh of relief, loudly, and started talking about how long the trains are down here and how lucky we were to have made it through.

Mile 15-ish - Someone just crashed right in front of me.  There was a group of riders that decided it was a good place to answer the call of nature and had stopped off to the side.  So a bunch of riders decided to join them, throwing everybody behind them into panic.  And of course, a couple went down.

Mile 17 - I saw a wicked three-person tandem bike.  Dad in front, mom is second, with a little girl in third spinning away.

Mile 20 - First water break!  I hit the latrine, then grabbed a cupful of watermelon and pineapple.  A shot of pickle juice?  Why not?

Somewhere in the next ten miles the course turns out of the wind and I started flying along, relaxed, just cruising at about 20 mph.  I kept trying to remember my promise to Char, not to break myself and to enjoy the ride so I held a little back but still kept passing people left and right.  I started to realize that I should have started much closer to the front of the pack to avoid some of the riders in front of me.

Mile 40 - Another stop.  I didn't have to pee again, which worried me.  Some wonderfully nice lady held my bike while I snagged some watermelon and a handful of baked goods.  Someone was teaching line dancing on a stage next to the water point and I found the whole thing hilarious.

Mile 50 - My heart rate monitor read my pulse as 30 bpm.  I'm pretty sure that either it was broken or that I was having a heart attack.

Mile 58 - Riding through the town of Burk Burnett was like being in a real race.  People were lining the streets cheering and I was flying along feeling quite full of myself.  Unfortunately, just outside of town, the course finally turned back into the wind and the pain really began.

Mile 60 - Gut check.  There's a shortcut towards the finish (75 miles total) or a turn left to Hell's Gate and the full 100 miles.  I was feeling horrible and stopped to stock up on anything I thought I could get into my stomach without throwing up.  Then I turned left.

False motivation all over my face.

Mile 69 -  Hell's Gate.  I was really starting to feel awful but the occasional tailwind (or at least lack of headwind) was helping me along.  More pickle juice shots, some oranges, and a pee break.  Definitely not hydrated but I was drinking non-stop and emptying my bottles quickly.

Mile 78 and 79 - Back into the wind with a vengeance.  Horrible.  Everything hurt and I could barely keep moving.  I was passing other riders, but it hurt to keep my cadence up.

Mile 84 - Last water point for me.  I could hardly walk, and the scorching sun was blazing hot.  I forced some orange slices into my mouth, finished an entire bottle of water and grabbed a cup of some green gatorade with ice.  Unfortunately, some jerk replaced the gatorade with pickle juice and I forced it down with a horrible twisted look on my face.  It tasted terrible but probably saved my life.  I followed it up with a cup of Fritos that was surprisingly awesome.

With no respite from the headwind, I picked up another rider and we managed to take turns pulling each other through the scorching blast of hot air for about ten miles.  Misery mounted in both my legs and seat.  SAG wagons and pickup trucks were passing me with riders sitting in the back.  I told myself that I wasn't going to be one of them.

Mile 96 - My riding partner (I never got his name, we were both too out of breath to talk) pulled off at the last water point before the finish and I decided that I needed to keep going.  Acid was pumping through my veins and my head was a little iffy, but it was such a short hop to the finish that I had to chance it.

Mile 98.5 - Heading down into town, the wind was starting to be blocked by buildings and trees offered some shade when I heard the telltale wump wump wump of a flat tire.  I had just put a new tire on my back wheel earlier in the week but this time it was my front tire.  There was still some pressure and I couldn't hear the leak so I hit it with a CO2 cartridge and took off to try and make the finish line before it deflated again.

Mile 102 - After curving through town I finally reached the finish line.  I had hoped to finish with a grin and super victory pose, arms raised high in exultation of a wonderful ride, but there was a group of riders from the 100km in my way, the chip timing mats made me nervous, and I just wanted to find Char in the crowd.  I coasted across the line, barely unclipped before almost falling over and was done.  Physically and mentally done.

Smiling before I collapse on the ground in a sweaty, crying heap.

I'm not sure if I've ever felt so bad after a ride.  I have had long rides, hard rides, and hard long rides.  But today, the heat and wind together was enough to completely zap me of any remaining sense of humanity.  Char could barely keep me moving and force a little food in me.  I couldn't drink enough, and some Gypsy Kit chips (with no sauce this time) are the only thing I could stomach without wanting to heave.  (3,907 calories burned and no appetite, go figure)

My final time was just over six and a half hours with a moving time of 5 hours and 44 minutes.  Not my fastest 100 miles ever, but I'll take it.

It was, after all, Hotter 'n Hell out there!

My Dog Taught Me How to Race in 5 Easy Steps

Lessons Learned from Rembrandt the Dog.

1. Always dress for the occasion.

You're probably not going to win so you might as well look good doing it.  Get a hair cut before you run a race in the heat, and let it go a little before you race in the cold.  A little bling goes a long way.  Obnoxiously loud shoes do make you faster than everyone else.

2.  Hit the bathroom before the start.

When you gotta go, you gotta go.  Don't hold it in, you'll not be happy about the consequences.  Standing in line for the porta potties may not be fun, so make the most of it by talking to everyone around you.  Every line you stand in is a party waiting to happen.

3.  Run as hard and fast as you can for as long as you can.

Pacing yourself is for wimps.  If they catch you, then you should have trained harder.  Then again, maybe this isn't such a good idea.

4.  Race supporters are the best!

When someone yells your name, you have to smile and run faster.  Wave back at people cheering.  It's the law.

5.  It's always more fun to run in a group.

When you're hurting and bonking, just look to your left or right, guaranteed there's someone that looks worse than you.  Then again, maybe there isn't.

My Last and Lost World's Fastest 10K

Well, that didn't quite go as planned.

That was one of many thoughts I had upon realizing that I'd taken a wrong turn near the end of the World's Fastest Downhill 10K in El Paso last weekend. 

What's strange is that, other than my navigational snafu, everything was coming up aces for once.  The weather was ridiculously perfect, hovering in the upper 50s and zero wind.  With Char's help, I'd managed a decent breakfast of a green smoothie, scone, and some vegan preworkout drink.  I'd slept amazingly well, and was feeling more or less ready to set a personal record on my last El Paso road race.

The Downhill 10K is a special race for me. It was the first race I ran last year when I came home from my 6 month "vacation" in the desert. It was also one of the first races I ran after moving to El Paso that taught me that I had the potential to become much faster. I can easily track the development of my fitness over the last 5 years through my results on the Downhill 10K.

At the start line there's always a crowd in the front that really shouldn't be there. The gun was fired and after weaving around the group of less than olympic hopefuls, I saw that there were only 4 runners in front of me.

I don't really compete at a level that lends itself to placing very high in most events. My key to success is finding races with a small enough field that I can break into the top of my age group. And today was a perfect day for me to shine.

I jumped onto the tail of runner #4 and held on for the first mile. At the first marker I checked my watch to see that we were running a sub-6 minute pace. My legs were churning as fast as I dared move them, but I was still steadily gaining on the two runners closest to me. I passed the first one at the 2 mile marker, ignoring the water station and staying as close to the center line as I dared.

For a while I contemplated settling for 4th place. That would leave me with the top medal in my age group, for once, and I was confident that I could hold off anyone behind me at this point. There was also the nagging fear that I would once again implode in the last mile of the race if I pushed it any harder. But at some point, I decided that if I didn't at least try for the podium finish, I would regret the wasted opportunity later. At the 4 mile marker I was ready to make my move on runner #3.

We crossed under the highway construction and I kicked around runner #3, settling into a slightly more painful pace to try and increase the distance between us. I knew that if I could grow a large enough gap he wouldn't be able to out-kick me in the end. It was hard not to look back to see how close he was. I had to keep reminding myself to just run my own race, and not his. (Thanks to Selene Yeager for the words of wisdom)

Just when everything seemed to be going just fine, I made a decision that destroyed the race and most of the runners behind me. Let me preface by saying that I was running my heart out and there wasn't much blood reserved for congnizant functions like logical reasoning and decision making. Mostly, I was just trying not to throw up or implode.

I could no longer see runners #1 and #2. I knew that #1 had a police truck escorting him, and that #2 had a motorcycle escort. I looked into the distance and saw a motorcycle heading to the left from the first intersection. It was moving slowly, at what I guessed was the runner's pace. So, when I got to the first intersection, and there was no one directing runners to go straight, I turned left. The police on the motorcycle at the intersection (that was preventing cars from entering the roadway) watched me go. And as I ran along, motorcycle cops were riding alongside, keeping our lane clear of traffic. No one stopped me (or the 20 or so runners that had also turned) so I kept going, struggling to keep my pace along the final mile. It wasn't until I reached a little street called Trade Center that I realized my fatal error.

Trade Center is the cross street about 100 meters passed the finish line. And there was no finish line. I was a block west of where I should have been.

And that's when the motorcycle cop finally stopped alongside me to inform me that I was supposed to go straight and turn at the second intersection. A mile ago. Thanks, dude.

So, I kept running, turning right onto Trade Center, then another right onto Northwestern and the back end of the finish line. I ran alongside the finish chute, turned and crossed over the finish line.

The strange looks from the race volunteers were priceless.

All I could do was shrug my shoulders and return their look of bewilderment. The race director began screaming into his cell phone about the motorcycle that wasn't directing traffic at the fateful intersection like it had the last 7 years. I staggered to a nearby concrete wall to rest, sucking down a bottle of water as I watched almost two dozen runners that had also taken the wrong turn finish awkwardly, backwards.

What the 10K route should have looked like.

 

What I ended up running.

It was almost 5 minutes before runners began finishing the right way. 

I'd managed to hold on to my third place finish and set a personal record even while running an extra .2 miles.  The last mile had not been totally downhill, which also hurt my total time and those that had followed me.  At first I felt guilty about taking the wrong turn.  I really thought it was my fault and felt horrible for leading so many on a longer and slightly more strenuous route.

Then I thought about all the motorcycle cops that watched me do it; the same cops that have been monitoring this same run route for the last 7 years. 

Way to go, guys.

And I remembered another time I'd run this same race and watched a group of runners try to make the same wrong turn (luckily, they had people directing traffic that time and were able to keep them from making it too far).

Where was the race support this time? 

Oh well, no point in whining about it.  My fastest 10K ever, and a nice plastic trophy to show for it.

Also, the weirdest blisters on the outsides of both my feet.  For what it's worth, this must be what it takes to stand on the podium.

 

Michelob Ultra El Paso Marathon, Ultra Fail

The Michelob Ultra El Paso Marathon was an abysmal, embarassing failure for the city of El Paso, and they don't even know it.

I first ran in the El Paso Marathon in 2009, when I first moved to El Paso.  I only ran the Half Marathon; my first full would take me another 10 months to train for.  I remember the excitement, the anxiety of running in a big city race.  Since then I've competed in 4 (now 5) full marathons and multiple road races.  This last week was my first time running the El Paso Marathon (full, that is) and I have to admit that I was sincerely disappointed in the overall production of the race.

The weather was awesome, the water stations had enthusiastic volunteers, and I was running (sort of) with friends.  What could possibly have ruined the event for me?

Well, let's take a look at what I think truly makes a successful marathon.

There are four things you need to successfully pull off hosting a marathon.

1. Decent pre & post-race support.
2. Ample water stations with goodies.
3. People to sign up and run.
4. A route with a view.

The Michelob Ultra El Paso Marathon failed at all three of the above.

Let's start at the top and work our way down.

1. Decent pre & post-race support.

The Pre Race Support:

The first thing you receive on behalf of any race event, once you register, is the goodie bag (technically called your race packet, but that's not very exciting).  It's where the race sponsors toss their swag (free promotional materials) and is a great way to experience new products.

The best El Paso could offer this year was the promised t-sirt, mandatory race bib, and some pamphlets for a couple upcoming races.  Not exactly exciting.

Typically, at other races, there's a selection of snacks, energy chews/goos/gels/bars, coupons for sponsoring businesses, promotional products for athletic industries (think lip balm, deodorant, sunscreen, etc) and a huge collection of advertisements for upcoming events.  It's a promotional product placement dream come true.  I ran races where I didn't have to bring anything with me for before or after care.  In the race bag was enough sunscreen, wipes, and snacks to fuel me, bathe me and prepare me to run/ride.

Very disappointing, El Paso.

The Post Race Support:

For weeks/months the El Paso Marathon website and Facebook page advertised that their post race care would include chocolate milk, burritos, Michelob Ultra beer, water, and a special post-race brunch menu at The Garden (swanky club/restaurant located at the finish line).  Chocolate milk is a big favorite among many endurance racers for its carb to protein ratio in post race recovery.

And let's be honest, everybody loves burritos, especially me.

Well, cross the finish line when I did and you would have discovered the burritos were all gone, no chocolate milk, and The Garden serving alcohol but no food.  According to their staff, the kitchen was closed; maybe they had no clue what was meant by a "brunch menu."  All that was left to a few hundred hungry, depleted, dehydrated marathoners was crappy beer and a full bar.  Exactly what you need to create a real medical crisis in a hurry.

Another fail, El Paso.

2. Ample water stations with goodies.

Not too bad here, El Paso.  There were water stations every two miles for the first half, and then a station every mile thereafter.  But, there was only race sponsored energy gels at miles 10 and 20.

Because we don't eat any other time in the race?

Are you that cheap, El Paso?

The one saving grace, and the marathon directors can't take any credit for it, were the volunteers at the water points that put on quite a show in motivating us to keep moving.

Still, for a large, annual, metropolitan marathon, why can't we afford some more carbs on the route?  Might see some much happier marathoners crossing the finish line.

Mild fail, El Paso.

3. People to sign up and run.

Let's all do some math.

Yay!  Math!

Marathon participation averages a ~2% growth across the nation, annually.  (go to RunningUSA for more details and their annual report so you can criticize my inability to read stats correctly)

*The NYC ING Marathon was cancelled in 2012 for Hurricane Sandy, and would have contributed an average of 40,000 runners (and they were already sold out when cancelled) which would have been substantial growth from 2011 to 2012.

The El Paso Marathon data I have been able to collect goes back as far as 2008.

*No data was available for total participants (the 5K and Half Marathon were recorded separately).
The El Paso Marathon was cancelled in 2011 for inclement weather (Snow'pocalypse 2011!).

The El Paso Marathon has seen a 53% growth in total numbers since 2008, far outpacing the national average.  However, that growth has declined to less than 1% total in the last 2 years.  Suddenly, people seem less interested in the marathon and the El Paso Marathon is no longer keeping pace with the rest of the nation.

I wonder why?

One more number game.

El Paso population (according to a 2012 survey) is 672,538.

The entire population of the island of Maui, Hawaii, (according to the 2010 U.S. Census) is 144,000.

It's no secret that Charla and I just ran the Maui Oceanfront Marathon in January.  Just see my last few blog posts for details.  So, I'm using the beautiful but small island of Maui as my comparison.

With only 20% of the population of El Paso, similar weather on race day, and a healthy group of volunteers, the marathons could have offered similar experiences.  The biggest difference would be the type of scenery (which El Paso can offer when it tries) and the logistics of attending each.

Easily, El Paso has more hotels, cheaper and shorter flights, and more affordable local logistics (rental cars, restaurants, etc).  Therefore, logically, it should attract more racers.

There were 349 finishers in the Maui Oceanfront Marathon in 2014 compared to 373 in El Paso a month later.

Hmmm, I think that's fail number 3, El Paso.

4. A route with a view.

This year's marathon started at the top of Transmountain Road, one of the most epic starts ever.  I won't describe in detail what it did to my quads, but let's suffice to say that I still have trouble walking.  However, that's about where it ended.  We were kept off the major roads, and even spent several miles running alongside the city landfill before entering Fort Bliss.

How about a west side route through the river valley?  How about taking us up onto Alabama and maybe even crossing over Scenic Drive?  It's name is Scenic, and it's already blocked off on Sunday mornings for pedestrians.  The El Paso Marathon will never gain ground as a scenic or worthwhile marathon until the city accepts its responsibility in producing the marathon and giving the participants something to remember the city by.  But then, El Paso has always been accepting of its role as a second rate town.

Time to conclude this argument.

What's most disappointing about the whole experience is that the City of El Paso has so much potential to do so much more than it ever accomplishes.  One of the saddest moments came when race participants were forced to pay for parking to pick up their race packets and then again for parking on race day.  I keep asking myself why a metropolis of more than 600,000 couldn't foot the bill or why the race registration couldn't include free parking for the two mandatory events for participants.

It's the little things that add up to eventually kill you and the El Paso Marathon seems content to continue to let things grow into mediocrity and stagnation while the rest of the nation leaves them behind.

Thankfully, this will be the last time I will be running the El Paso Marathon.  Perhaps, if I ever have the misfortune to visit again, they will have learned from their lack of success and devised how to work together to put together a more marketable product to the hordes of endurance athletes looking for interesting and fun challenges.

Here's a hint.

Deliver what you promise and take care of your athletes before and after their event.

Make sure they want for nothing during the race so they can focus on what your city has to offer while they pass by the beautiful scenery and cheering spectators that should be on the route.

Recognize that you are much smaller than a big city marathon should be, and do whatever it takes to change that.

Give us something to look at other than garbage and desolate run down businesses.

When you start attracting more runners, you will make more money and realize how much this marathon should matter to the city.  Until then, no one will care.