Hawaiian Diary: Part 2 – Race Day
Read Part 1 – Pre-Race
Age Group World Championship Triathlon, Honolulu, Hawaii
Olympic Distance (1500m Swim, 40k Bike, 10k Run)
Sunday, October 9, 2005
My swim wave (Male 35-39) is scheduled to start at 7:10 AM. One hour earlier, the older athletes and the AWAD (Athletes With A Disability) wave got the race underway. You can’t help noticing that these folks are what TV ads tell us we are not: happy. Not to mention positive, friendly, and — most importantly — forward-looking. You have my utmost respect and admiration for your abilities and attitudes.
The 25-29 men would start at 7:00 AM, the 30-34 year olds five minutes later, and then my group. The beach area is packed with fans and athletes. I go out to do a short swim warmup on an adjacent beach, but quickly abort when I cut my hand on some shallow rocks. I go back to my age group “corral,” which basically is a fenced-in square on the grass beyond the edge of the sandy beach. “Wait here until your wave is called to get in the water.” There are 124 of us with our black swim caps twitching nervously, checking out the various countries, noticing that everyone looked strong and fast and super-fit. No first-timers at this thing — these guys are studs.
Soon we're in the water and a rush of adrenaline hits me. This is it, dude. You are here, at Worlds! Never mind exactly how you got here, just think about the work you put in to get ready: running intervals at the track in the dark before work, Friday nights on the trainer, etc.. The two groups ahead are off and we're next into the water. The ocean water temperature is comfortable (no wetsuits) and rolling us up and down with rhythmic swells. We tread water for several minutes before the start. It's a bit chaotic as the officials keep yelling at the guys in front to move back.
SWIM
Boom! Here we go. Chaos, arms, legs, foam, waves, salt, cough, kick, stroke, go man, go! Two loops of 750 meters in a rectangle parallel to the beach. Not much of a rectangle, though, as we swim down counter-clockwise and practically do a 180. Inevitably there are head-on collisions. At one point I stop to find 10 guys confused and in what looked like a football line of scrimmage, not knowing which play just got called by the quarterback. I want to call a timeout. Keep going!
The swimmers are thinning out and there is more space, which is nice, but I know it probably means I am getting dropped. Oh, no, I just hope I’m not last. Shut up! Keep going! I glance up at volunteers on surfboards to see if I can tell if there are any guys behind me. There must be, right, but what does it matter? Keep going!
Finally, out of the water and onto the beach. I look at my watch – oh, geez, this is my worst Olympic distance time I can remember doing. Glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is behind me – maybe a couple, can’t tell. Keep going! Smile man, people are cheering for you: “GO USA!” Cool. Pick it up.
By the time I reach the bike transition, practically all the bikes are gone. OK, stay cool, you can try to catch up now. Don’t panic. (119th out of 124 in the swim – ugh)
BIKE
A decent transition and out on the bike. Hit the first hill within five minutes. Feel good, but not great. Keep it steady. Passing some old-timers from the early waves. Once on the main road, I start to catch some guys. I notice packs of bikers on the other side of the road already well ahead and heading back to town. Climb the big hill at the turnaround, no problem, down the steep hill, no risks, starts to rain, lasts about 10 minutes. Notice my average speed on my bike computer. Not my best ever, but a solid 22+mph. Come into transition, flub the shoeless dismount, but don't lose time because of it. More “Go USA!” encouragement. OK, I have moved up a little. Time to run and try to make this respectable.
RUN
Have a solid pace going and am catching guys every now and then, but everyone is moving pretty quickly. The sun is out and it is heating up. Hear some cheers from a few spectators who I actually know. I am holding what feels like an even pace and come through the first lap on schedule. 5K to go man….this is it…..do your best, the season will be over after this, keep it going. I make my way around the flat course for the final time, wishing the shade would last forever. As I get closer to the finish, I know my overall time is nothing special (I had dug an insurmountable hole with my swim time.) but I feel strong, keep my form and pace, and soak in the feeling of running down the finishing chute of a world championship, with international flags flapping, Hawaiian drummers, and cheers.
Whoa! That was tough. I’ve never competed in an event this competitive. It's a taste of the big time and I was just trying to hang on and keep it respectable. In the end I was 105th out of 124 in the age group and the 22nd American out of 29. The top 18 were officially designated as Team USA members.
POST-RACE
All my racing friends are in waves behind me, so I watch for and cheer them on. Despite a slower than normal run due to injuries, Mark has a great performance, at one point leading his age group, which included some dude named Scott Molina, and holds on for 6th in his age group. Jennifer and Bob also made team USA for their age groups. The Marys, Marty, and Dana (and Marylene, representing NC) all push through and, with varying degrees of satisfaction, had to feel good about the experience. Congratulations to all! Mahalo!
To watch a video of racers finishing, click here and follow the instructions.
Age Group World Championship Triathlon, Honolulu, Hawaii
Olympic Distance (1500m Swim, 40k Bike, 10k Run)
Sunday, October 9, 2005
My swim wave (Male 35-39) is scheduled to start at 7:10 AM. One hour earlier, the older athletes and the AWAD (Athletes With A Disability) wave got the race underway. You can’t help noticing that these folks are what TV ads tell us we are not: happy. Not to mention positive, friendly, and — most importantly — forward-looking. You have my utmost respect and admiration for your abilities and attitudes.
The 25-29 men would start at 7:00 AM, the 30-34 year olds five minutes later, and then my group. The beach area is packed with fans and athletes. I go out to do a short swim warmup on an adjacent beach, but quickly abort when I cut my hand on some shallow rocks. I go back to my age group “corral,” which basically is a fenced-in square on the grass beyond the edge of the sandy beach. “Wait here until your wave is called to get in the water.” There are 124 of us with our black swim caps twitching nervously, checking out the various countries, noticing that everyone looked strong and fast and super-fit. No first-timers at this thing — these guys are studs.
Soon we're in the water and a rush of adrenaline hits me. This is it, dude. You are here, at Worlds! Never mind exactly how you got here, just think about the work you put in to get ready: running intervals at the track in the dark before work, Friday nights on the trainer, etc.. The two groups ahead are off and we're next into the water. The ocean water temperature is comfortable (no wetsuits) and rolling us up and down with rhythmic swells. We tread water for several minutes before the start. It's a bit chaotic as the officials keep yelling at the guys in front to move back.
SWIM
Boom! Here we go. Chaos, arms, legs, foam, waves, salt, cough, kick, stroke, go man, go! Two loops of 750 meters in a rectangle parallel to the beach. Not much of a rectangle, though, as we swim down counter-clockwise and practically do a 180. Inevitably there are head-on collisions. At one point I stop to find 10 guys confused and in what looked like a football line of scrimmage, not knowing which play just got called by the quarterback. I want to call a timeout. Keep going!
The swimmers are thinning out and there is more space, which is nice, but I know it probably means I am getting dropped. Oh, no, I just hope I’m not last. Shut up! Keep going! I glance up at volunteers on surfboards to see if I can tell if there are any guys behind me. There must be, right, but what does it matter? Keep going!
Finally, out of the water and onto the beach. I look at my watch – oh, geez, this is my worst Olympic distance time I can remember doing. Glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is behind me – maybe a couple, can’t tell. Keep going! Smile man, people are cheering for you: “GO USA!” Cool. Pick it up.
By the time I reach the bike transition, practically all the bikes are gone. OK, stay cool, you can try to catch up now. Don’t panic. (119th out of 124 in the swim – ugh)
BIKE
A decent transition and out on the bike. Hit the first hill within five minutes. Feel good, but not great. Keep it steady. Passing some old-timers from the early waves. Once on the main road, I start to catch some guys. I notice packs of bikers on the other side of the road already well ahead and heading back to town. Climb the big hill at the turnaround, no problem, down the steep hill, no risks, starts to rain, lasts about 10 minutes. Notice my average speed on my bike computer. Not my best ever, but a solid 22+mph. Come into transition, flub the shoeless dismount, but don't lose time because of it. More “Go USA!” encouragement. OK, I have moved up a little. Time to run and try to make this respectable.
RUN
Have a solid pace going and am catching guys every now and then, but everyone is moving pretty quickly. The sun is out and it is heating up. Hear some cheers from a few spectators who I actually know. I am holding what feels like an even pace and come through the first lap on schedule. 5K to go man….this is it…..do your best, the season will be over after this, keep it going. I make my way around the flat course for the final time, wishing the shade would last forever. As I get closer to the finish, I know my overall time is nothing special (I had dug an insurmountable hole with my swim time.) but I feel strong, keep my form and pace, and soak in the feeling of running down the finishing chute of a world championship, with international flags flapping, Hawaiian drummers, and cheers.
Whoa! That was tough. I’ve never competed in an event this competitive. It's a taste of the big time and I was just trying to hang on and keep it respectable. In the end I was 105th out of 124 in the age group and the 22nd American out of 29. The top 18 were officially designated as Team USA members.
POST-RACE
All my racing friends are in waves behind me, so I watch for and cheer them on. Despite a slower than normal run due to injuries, Mark has a great performance, at one point leading his age group, which included some dude named Scott Molina, and holds on for 6th in his age group. Jennifer and Bob also made team USA for their age groups. The Marys, Marty, and Dana (and Marylene, representing NC) all push through and, with varying degrees of satisfaction, had to feel good about the experience. Congratulations to all! Mahalo!
To watch a video of racers finishing, click here and follow the instructions.
posted by JPD at Monday, October 31, 2005
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