Tuesday, I packed my bike and other equipment for the last race of this season. Since the season started November 24, 2008, there is little time left after Ironman Arizona this Sunday to squeeze in another event.
The Packing of the Bike, after something like 80 efforts, still seems like a new event each time I do it. I got the bike in 2000, custom made out of titanium tubing with S&S couplers, to save money and effort on out of town races. Each time I go, I spend at least two hours taking the bike apart and putting it back together. Break down the bike for the outbound trip; put it together for the event. Repeat for the return flight. The amazing thing is, I’m still discovering different ways to do this. For example, on Tuesday, I removed the aerobar and the stem as a single unit, instead of taking the aerobars off of the stem. This way, not only do I only unscrew 3 bolts instead of four, but I also keep the same angle for the bars when I put the bike back together.
So, yes, that thing in the picture is a titanium Quintana Roo time trial bike, fit into a 26” x 26” aluminum suitcase. It survived yet another flight (its ninth this year), and I re-built it in my Country Inns suite in Scottsdale, just across the lake from Tempe. Then out to the Beeline Hiway, through the Salt River Community (reservation). The Hiway, which last year was a bumpy potholed mess of decaying concrete pavement, has a new inch thick layer of smooth black asphalt. And I now have wheel covers (the black thing covering the spokes on the upper, or rear, wheel in the picture.) I went 0.7 mph faster on the same section for my training ride as I did last year, and my heart rate was probably 10 bpm slower. I hope that means I’m in better shape, and I can meet my goal of riding the course at the same speed as a year ago, with enough left for a little stronger run.
Speaking of the run, my new coaching plan has me doing harder runs this year than last, so it’s impossible to compare with a year ago. But I feel plenty strong, and the 2+ weeks in Kona seem to still be affecting my heat acclimitization, as I did noticed neither the 74F temperature, nor the unfiltered sun here in the Salt River Valley.
Finally, I swam in Tempe Town Lake this morning. The water temp was 64, which felt nippy on entry, but was no longer an issue after I had warmed up for ten minutes and started swimming at race pace. 2000 meters in 40 minutes, just about right for three days before the race.
The Tempe swim is odd in many ways. First, it’s actually the Tempe Town Puddle. Ten years ago, the city put rubber bladders about two miles apart across a dry wash called the Salt River. They lined the sides with concrete, and covered the bottom with plastic. Then they filled it from the Central Arizona Water project, and called it a lake. They stock it with fish, the Arizona State U. crew teams use it for practice, and franchisees take sightseers out on small boats. The whole thing is about 500 meters wide. There is minimal wind exposure, and no room for any chop or swell to form anyway. So the swim here is pretty much hassle free. The only complaints some people have are: the water is silty, so it’s hard to see your hand in front of your face. And this time of year, with the lengthening colder nights, the water temperature has dropped to 64F; it may get even lower by race day. I find that “bracing”; others call it “cold”. I guess it depends on how much heat one generates while swimming.
I have always considered it a good sign when I make contact with the people I know who are in the race. Today, I have encountered a lot of the folks I actually know who are here.
Bruce, from the South Sound Triathletes came up to me as I was putting on my wetsuit. I almost didn’t recognize him, because he has put on a lot of upper body breadth, probably from all the swimming he’s been doing. I hope he can carry it all on the run. Also, he has bleached his coal black hair, and cut it short, giving him a gold racing cap to jet start his day. Last year he missed a Kona slot here by less than 7 minutes, and has been on a mission ever since to nail it this time around. He is a strong swimmer and fairly powerful biker. He wants to cut 30 minutes from his time; I hope he can get 15, five on the bike and ten on the run. The biggest risk for him, as it is for so many people, will be going too hard on the bike. He’s capable of riding the 112 miles in 4:50-55, but I doubt he can run a 3:30 marathon after that. If he goes 57 on the swim, 7 minutes for transitions, 5:00 for the bike and then can run 3:30, he’ll have 9:35, and that should be enough. He wants 9:20; to get that, it’s 4:55/3:20 for his bike/run. Anyway, we gave each other some encouragement, but I had to get in the water, as it was closing in 40 minutes.
That’s another thing about Tempe Town Puddle. They only allow swimming in it 8-10 AM on Thurs, Fri, and Sat before the race. It’s not a public swimming area for some reason.
After my swim, I did my chores at the village, looking at this year’s collection of logo wear (nothing worth buying), and getting CO2 cartridges and Body Glide for the race. The line to register looked to be at least one hour long, so I sat down on a picnic table, snacking on a protein Power Bar. A lanky blonde strolls towards me, calling my name. Because of my triathlon history and also my former job as Medical Director, people are ALWAYS coming up to me whom I don’t recognize, so I do my best to look friendly and hope some flash of knowing kicks in.
Luckily, I never HAD met her, except online, so she was kind enough to introduce herself, Gina Hamel, the convener or our Endurance Nation IM AZ race group. We chatted briefly about the water and the days ahead, then she went back to her place in line, and I headed on home.
Before I could get out of the village, though, I spied Rob Ladewig heading towards me in his jungle hat, shorts and sun glasses. We laughed a bit about the fiascos we’d each experienced at Kona, noted the perfect weather here, and stayed away from the elephant in the room – there is only one Kona slot in our age group, and we each wanted it. I obliquely said, “I noticed you’ll be at St.George”, an IM in Utah in early May. It gave me a chance to tell him I WASN’T going there, but I’d thought about it. Long season, I like to ski in Jan and Feb, couldn’t train enough in the winter to make it worthwhile.
Finally, in the afternoon, I went back to the village, intending to run the first 3.5 miles of the run course, then register. While running across the Priest Road Bridge, I crept up slowly on a group of four runners, led by a short chatty lady pulling them along at about a 9 minute clip. The rear runner had a yellow T shirt advertising something from Mt. Si, a local Puget Sound hill, and I was about to note our geographic brotherhood, when I saw the lead woman was Elina from the SST. I was moving along at a quicker pace at that point, as instructed by my coaches, so I just said, “Hi.” But we got a chance to talk after I came out of registration, when I bumped into her again.
Four people out of 2500, and I saw them all without too much strain in one day. I’ll be heading to dinner tonight with the Endurance Nation crew, them meeting Cheryl’s aunt tomorrow. For me, this is a veritable marathon of interaction, considering how catatonic and hyperkinetic I get before a race, mumbling to myself, head to the ground, trying to think of nothing so I don’t go screaming into the night worrying about the race, now only 60 hours away.