Team Mango

If At First You Don't Succeed, Try a Tri again: John's Perspective

Last Sunday I too participated in the Benaroya Research Institute triathlon at SeaFair. Three years ago the SeaFair tri was my first ever triathlon, so it holds a special place in my triathletes heart. My big goal for the summer has been to prepare myself for the Ironman Canada triathlon. An Ironman is about nine times the length of a sprint triathlon like SeaFair, so I wasn’t at all worried about the distances. I was looking forward to a fun race and an opportunity to go fast since Ironman training is all about the pace.

Anyway, for the second day in a row I was up shortly after 5 am (I had ridden a century on Saturday). After making it to Seward Park and setting up my transition area the next hour passed by very quickly. I found myself wishing Jason good luck as his wave, in silver swim caps, staged itself on the beach. The first wave of elite swimmers was sent off, followed shortly by Jason’s wave, the 30-34 year old men. Next, the 25-29 year old women started to swim, and finally I was standing in the water, waiting for the start.

As they sent us off it was the usual mosh pit of 110 triathletes of widely varying swimming ability struggling to find their own personal patch of water. The shallow water was so stirred up and murky that visisbility was essentially zero—I was sighting every third or fourth stroke, avoiding slow swimmers, focusing on powerful strokes so fast swimmers wouldn’t push me under, watching out for the occassional breast-stroke swimmer and their wide kicks. After about 100 yards things opened up and I could think about swimming, as opposed to avoiding being kicked in the head. I felt good passing the first buouy, then the second and making the turn. I soon passed a distressed-looking swimmer in a silver swim cap. I hoped it wasn’t Jason. I was pushing the pace, alternating my focus points—keep my hands straight in front of my shoulders—no crossing over. Keep my ear to shoulder, one eye underwater when breathing. Strong finish to the stroke, feel it in my triceps. Soon I made the second turn, and now I was mixed up with a lot of swimmers from the previous wave. Now I was back in shallow, stirred-up water, I touched bottom with my hand, and was done with the swim. Three years ago this swim took me nearly 23 minutes. I said I’d be happy to break 20 minutes. Last year I came in under 18 minutes and I said that I’d be satisfied if I can get my swim time under 15. This year I crossed the timing mat at 14:27, and I’m thinking those 11 and 12 minute swim times don’t look so impossible—when will it all end?

Two and a half minutes later I was leaving the transition area and mounting my bike. Like Jason, the bike is my strength. I’ve done several long mountain rides with Jason this summer and I was looking forward to riding fast on this short, flat course. I’d left my heartrate monitor at home and was planning on pushing as hard as possible for a half-hour or so. As I cleared the chaos of the transition area I dropped into the aero bars, shifted to the big ring and dropped the hammer. I accelerated away from Seward Park, gradually shifting to higher gears. I kept my pace high, continually passing other riders, slowing only occasionally to navigate through some congestion. Up a short hill, onto the I-90 express lanes, across to the Mercer Island turnaround, where a quick mental calculation told me that I had averaged nearly 24 mph for the first half. There was a headwind coming back across the bridge, but that mile and a half was quickly behind me and I hammered south on Lake Washington Boulevard. A change of shoes, drop the bike helmet, gulp some gatorade and I was off on the run. Running after a fast-paced bike ride is HARD. My goal was to continually build my pace throughout the run. I hadn’t run since my slight bike crash incident the previous Sunday, so my running legs were actually pretty fresh. As I rounded the far side of Seward Park a handsome, shirtless man came in sight who turned out to be Jason! We exchanged the secret Mango greeting, and he informed me of his introduction to triathlon swimming. Unfortunately, the mass start is almost impossible to simulate and everyone experiences a little trauma during their first tri. But Jason was looking good, running along. I pulled ahead, up and down a short hill and then a flat half-mile to the finish where I came in with a new personal best of 1:14:27. I was 22 out of 110 in my age group and am very pround of my bike time, the 40th fastest in a field of 1100. If I keep this up I’ll have to turn in my mid-pack credentials. Exactly a month from today I’ll be in Penticton, BC for Ironman Canada, where I’ll return to humble mid-pack (or lower) status. At IMCA there will be athletes in the field who are capable of riding a bike at nearly 28 mph for FOUR HOURS, and then running a marathon in under three. If I can do the combined bike and run in ten or eleven hours I’ll be ecstatic. Or at least I’ll be ecstatic some time in early September, when I can once again walk normally.