inauspicio.us

go ugly early

You knew another one of these was coming sometime, didn’t you. The snow isn’t off the mountains yet, but racing season has started in full force again, and I have managed two staggering losses already. And one dominating win at a training race.
At the beginning of march I lost my biggest client. (boldfaced side note: if you need VOIP, intranet, or database work, please contact me). I went to a training camp in new mexico for the hardest training week of my life, during which time I ran 65 miles, biked 275 miles, and swam 23000 yards. Might not sound like much, but you will just have to trust me. I can send you the nitty-gritty of it if you want.

Will and the terrible horrible no good very bad triathlon

A few more moderate days later I went to The Triathlon Formerly Known As Ralph’s. I seriously considered walking away from the sport after this one. Steph and I flew to California on Thursday night, and I woke up Friday morning to a screaming head cold and a bike broken in two pieces courtesy of Frontier. Bastards. We procured a replacement frame from the good folks at Leader Bikes and spent the evening building it up in their office. Got back to the hotel late that night, took a handful of advil, and hoped for the best.
Race morning, my cold was worse. It rained. The bright point of the morning was that the 55 degree water helped my sore throat a little. Swimming as hard as I possibly could, I got out of the water with the last pack, struggled through transition with numb hands and feet, and proceeded to have the slowest bike ride of my life. As a weak pro, I’m used to losing time on the bike. It’s part of life as a scrub. But I have never, until this race, lost half an hour in a half ironman. It could have been worse, certainly. But it was pretty damn bad.

Having promised myself that I could drop out whenever I felt like it, I clomped out on to the run course with my nose dripping. And then, crappy as I felt, I started reeling off six minute miles. From way back in 150th place, blowing my nose into my left hand and choking down orange gatorade, I ran 1:19 for the 9th fastest run of the day. After the race, Steph and I had a relaxing few days visiting family and enjoying warm weather while we recovered from our colds.

I’ll write about Ironman Arizona, which went similarly badly but in the opposite way, in a couple days.