Gnoam Chompskee represents!
Well, the 2008 Muncie Endurathon triathlon is in the bag, and boy was it a doozie! By far the largest triathlon event Kelly or I had ever participated in. Also very well run and in a great location (the Prairie Creek Reservoir in southeast Muncie). For those of you who are blinking your eyes and wonder “what is a triathlon?” let me explain:
A triathlon is a three-legged race, and not the kind you ran in elementary school - this race consists of three races in one. First, there is a swim race. Then, a bike race. And finally, a running race. They are done all back-to-back-to-back and you are timed accordingly. You “transition” from swimming to biking and from biking to running. There is a designated area where you keep your gear for the different legs of the race (smartly called the “transition” area).
Kelly ran a “Half Iron” distance race, which was a 2.4 mile swim, 56 mile bike and a 13 mile run. I ran a “Sprint” distance race: 400 yard swim, 12 mile bike, 3 mile run. She is strong, I am not. It was held Saturday, July 12th 2008.
And now, the recap:
Pre-Race
Kelly and I hit the pre-race Expo held at the Muncie Convention Center downtown, where we picked up our race packets, chips and shirts. Kelly got a technical shirt while me, being a “sprint distance” guy got a cotton one. Hey, whatevs.
For those of you who have never experienced a race expo, it’s essentially a flea-market-and-new-gear showcase. Vendors of everything specific to the race - like those little plugs that go in the end of your handlebars (and which are req’d by the USAT). I picked up a handsome, skin-tight (thereby removing the handsomeness) red, white and blue tri jersey. 3/4 zip with mesh pockets on the side that stay flat against you when you swim. Kelly picked up some race “nutrition” (that’s the term in the sport for anything you consume on the course) in the form of some Hammer Gel.
Saw some whiz-bang carbon and titanium tri bikes for sale. Every possible surface airfoiled and reduced. Helmets that are teardrop-shaped and light as a feather. All-carbon “disc” wheels - now with the most recent innovation - a dimple surface, like a golfball.
At 8PM, we hit the last race info meeting they held, wherein the race directors went over the courses for the Half Distance and the Sprint Distance races and told us about the possible “interesting” weather we’d have tomorrow. “If lightning happens in the water, we’ll probably call the race. If it happens out on the road course, it’s up to you to call your own race.” I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist. Did I mention I signed a waiver of liability earlier?
Our USAT official was up last and went over some common infractions, which included:
- Riding your bike at ANY time w/o a helmet - this includes when riding from the car to the transition area.
- Non-CPSC (Consumer Product Safety Commission) stickered helmets.
- Non-plugged handlebar ends (”like a round knife that might stick into you, and take something out that you might need”)
- Drafting on the bike
I wondered if my helmet was CPSC (it was) and I’ve been out of the cycling game so long that all I remembered was the ANSI or SNELL certifications that were superceded by the CPSC in 1999. Of course, the last long ride I did was in 1992, but hey. (Aside: why do I remember stuff like ANSI/SNELL?)
We got directions out to the race site, the Prairie Creek Reservoir, and decided to take a quick trip out there to check out the lay of the land before the race. As Chris says in The Wire, in regards to doing a hit job right: “Get there early”. And while we were both really quite tired, it was well worth it for the sunset alone. Pictures were taken. Toes dipped into lake. We also chatted with a delightful man shooting photos and eating noodles and salmon. He said he was training for the Ironman, and when we asked which one (the IM and it’s qualifiers are hosted all around the world) he said “China”. “Wow!” I said. “Well, if I’m going to be putting all of this training into it, I figure I should go and do it someplace awesome,” was his reply.
I snapped a few photos of a beautiful sunset and the lake as it’s canvas. Kelly and I were both hungry, so we headed to the IHOP. Driving there through the gently rolling hills of middle Indiana, Kelly pondered if IHOP serves breakfast food after breakfast. It had been a long day.
Race Day: Prologue
I had some terribly delicious and crunchy Cornmeal pancakes and bacon later at IHOP, and we didn’t get to bed until 11:30, leaving a scant 5 hours for sleep. Being that this was my first out-of-town race and my first open water swim in a loooong time (read: Boy Scouts), I was pretty nervous. Couple that with the delicious pancakes I ate right before I went to bed and you have the recipe for what I’ll term racemares. A racemare is like most other nightmares, except you dream about every terrible thing that could go wrong in the race you will run in the morning. Mine involved me getting there late and a cabin near the lake with race officials in it, except they weren’t race officials but two of the banjo-playing kids from the movie Deliverance. My stomach was one big knot the entire night… and I had to get up at 0430!
We rose (reluctantly) near 0430 and grabbed some breakfast at the especially-opened-at-5AM Holiday Inn Express breakfast bar with a throng of other triathletes, including a group of UofL swimmers. (We had met them briefly the day before, when I noticed one of them wearing a Damm Estrella shirt and said “That’s good beer”, to which was replied with a gesture to my LOUISVILLE shirt, “Nice shirt”.
It is worth mentioning the flash of rememberance I experienced sitting down to quickly eat breakfast. Being surrounded with all of these (tri)athletes reminded me of how I felt about myself in Spain. I’m not the fittest dude in America, but I’m under the average BMI for the nation and I seem to carry my 185 pounds well, and in Spain I felt… big! Not just taller, but tubbier. So, yeah, I didn’t go for the cinnamon roll. Fit people make excellent motivators. Also, I ain’t planning on becoming a Clydesdale any time soon. back to the article…
Our bags thrown in the car, we fired ourselves down McGalliard Avenue, The Budos Band’s Chicago Falcon jamming like the opening of some awesome movie. (This next few sequences would all be in slow motion). The weather was pretty nice driving to the lake, windows down and the sweet smell of Indiana prairie in our noses. We were at the lake by 0600 and parked in a rolling grassy field (note this, it is important). As we started packing our bikes and gear over to the transition area, I saw in the southeast what appeared to be a great black wall in the sky. Somewhere close by Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song played at max volume.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new land
To fight the horde and sing and cry, Valhalla, I am coming….
15 minutes later, race officials called a big group meeting, which I could only imagine would be some positive, uplifting news. OK, not really. The weather that was on the horizon that they had forecast the day before to reach us by 1100 (it was 0645 currently) was imminent and all of the swim starts would be pushed up to hopefully get us out of the water before the lightning came!
QUESTION: What happens if the lightning comes and we are still in the water?
ANSWER: Get out of the water as fast as you can, meaning head for the finish line.
Okay, got it. But wait - shouldn’t I not get into the water in the first place? The race officials, having already received my money, and perhaps more importantly my waiver of liability were going to hold this race, dammit. I was excited!
QUESTION: What happens if there is a huge storm/tornado/lightning monster out on the bike/run course?
ANSWER: Do not taunt the lightning monster. Run and hide in a hollow log like a cartoon rabbit. You can quit the race if you want, but that’s totally up to you. (Holds up giant white sack of money that says YOUR RACE FEES on the outside in black, sans-serif letters)
Well I wasn’t about to quit this race! Though there is something romantic about hiding in a hollow log.
Back to reality: the race organizers brought out a piece of poster board with new swim wave starts and times on it. (This is a big race, but they still keep it real with Sharpies and posterboard) My swim time was backed up 1/2 an hour from 830 to 800 and Kelly’s was moved from 0730 to 0716. They had a total of 12 different “waves” of swimmers to ensure that all 600 or so racers didn’t pile into the lake and drown like lemmings. Kelly was in wave 6, I was in wave 11, Men’s Sprint. Wave 12 was Women’s Sprint.
The Swim
(Mercifully, there are no known photos of me during the swim)
Kelly and I headed down to the shoreline were the swimmers were queuing and I very briefly met Amy Ohio (not her real last name), a triathlete Kelly met and rode with during a Louisville Landsharks 80 mile Ironman course ride a few months back. Amy Ohio is the reason why I’m not crazy about riding alone in an area that doesn’t see a lot of people. Amy hit some gravel a few years back on a long solo ride near her home in the boonies(?) of Ohio and woke up in the hospital. They don’t know how long she was out there laying in the road, but she was found and is A-OK now.
I’ve never worn a swim cap. They are hard and painful if you do it wrong. Luckily, I’ve watched Kelly put one on many times, so I managed to get it on the 2nd time around. Put both hands inside it, stretch it out and place over head. Do this wrong and it flies off into the crowd.
I kissed Kelly good luck and off she went. I didn’t see her again until she came in on the bike, well after I had already finished my entire race.
While waiting for the swim, I did some yoga stretches and breathing exercises to calm myself down (the black wall of clouds grow nearer). We got called up together and were told that both the men and ladies Spring waves were going together, and that if we didn’t get in the water soon they might have to postpone our race. GOTTA BEAT THAT LIGHTNING!
We did have a brief opportunity to dive in an get acclimated - which wasn’t hard as the water temperature was an awesome 80º, which I have come to find out is the optimum swimming temperature (insert link to Chinese swimming pool thing here). The wind was blowing, however and I figured that maybe I should try some strokes out to the first buoy and back. Alright! No problem. I got hit in the face with a wave, but even that wasn’t so bad. Breathing seemed to be fine. I felt like Fonzie. 400 yards! Shucks, I’ve been swimming 1600 meters with regularity and my lap times keep getting better. I’m going to do alright.
I had a brief conversation with a middle-aged guy who pointed out “The guy who’s going to win this race… and he’s 60!” He was a rather unassuming guy in a Speedo brief, but he looked pretty fit, standing in the front center of the crowd. I would later sidle over and check him out. (Imagine it’s later). This dude has a gold Ironman ring on his right hand. It’s the “M-DOT”, but it’s solid gold, and kinda large. Most people take off their jewelry when they race in water. Not this dude. No sir. I imagine he uses it like Ed O’Neill did in the 1991 Jon Hughes classic Dutch (ring in that clip at around :45), leaving the imprint of the Ironman logo in the foreheads of wrongdoers. Or may he’s just proud of his achievement.
Fast forward 10 minutes and it’s 30 seconds to go before the race and I realize I have to pee. The irony of the situation was not lost on me, as I was feeling pretty confident, but was literally pissing myself before the race. I chuckled silently. And before you judge me, fair reader, please realize that there are some people who whiz on the bike.
5…4…3…2…1… er…1? …1? … HORN!! A domino-like effect of arms and legs and bodies and such fall forward, as do I… except.. hey why are my eyes wet with lake water? Shit! I forgot to put my goggles back down. That was quickly remedied and I was off.
And by off, I mean in the middle of a squirming mass of people. Kelly had told me all about swim mass-starts and how violent they can be (she was asked by a man in another swim wave “Please don’t swim over me”), but this one was fairly tame. Someone did palm my left buttock, though. Up to that point I was feeling pretty good. Unfortunately, “that point” was about 15 feet from shore. By the time I got to the first buoy, which was maybe 30 yards out, I was at a loss for words. The winds had whipped up, creating more and higher waves and it was starting to rain. It was nearly impossible for me to swim more than 3 strokes at at a time, and forget about breathing and keeping your head down and all that good swim-form stuff! I gargled, drank, ingested, aspirated lake water, not to mention my chest had tightened up a bit. Stroke, stroke, choke, choke, tread water, consider options.
The good news is that I managed to get around the first buoy, and was helped therein by a goodly tailwind. In hindsight, I think that I might have beaten my time if I would have just sat still and let the tide carry me to the next buoy. Instead, I tried to regain my composure and swim form, which were exercises in futility. Treading water for a moment, I noticed there were quite a few of us sprinters in the same boat (capsized), and I also realized that I was pretty damned tired from all the thrashing and choking, and I couldn’t just put my feet down and walk to shore - I was out a ways in the lake! A moment of panic followed by a brief moment of calm as I noticed the raindrops hitting the surface of the lake. That’s one of those rare moments of sound and vision that everyone should experience, I think. Not the drowning bit, but swimming in the rain in a lake.
I managed to suck it up and do breaststroke for what must have been 200 yards, though time and space were not things I was acutely aware of. I felt like a cheater, oddly enough. Hadn’t I proven my freestyle swim chops? C’mon! Rounding the second and last buoy (the swim course was 3 legs), I was determined to look good for the folks on the shore, and I did, mostly. I swam a sad, upright freestyle until I got the ground under my legs. High-stepping my way out of the water, I vaguely remember the first crack of thunder and flash of lightning. People were still in the water! Oh well, they’ll finish behind me in the standing if they die, right? I was incredibly tired at that point, but managed to run from the lake to the gate of the transition area (some 200 yards) - and the shocking part of it is that my final swim time for that 400 yards was 10:33, including the run up to the transition area. I struggle in a pool to do 800 yards in 20 minutes, and that felt like the worst, ugliest swim of my life. Wind aided? Survival instinct aided? All I know is that while out there I coined a new term: Horrorsome. Horrifying, yet awesome.
The Bike
By the time I got to the transition, it was raining pretty well. My nylon gym bag was starting to get a little wet, and I was wet. I had my cell phone, wallet and keys in one pocket of the bag and I wrapped all that up in a t-shirt (quickly) and put on my cycling shoes and gingerly trotted out of the transition area. 3 minutes in transition - not bad for me at all!
The bike course for the Sprint Distance was a fairly flat, sometimes rolling affair that made a box around the Prairie Creek Reservoir. As I started off on the course, the rain steadily increased to what could easily be considered a deluge. The wind had also picked up and during the first descent where I was hitting 25-30 MPH, I encountered a sensation all together unfamiliar - raindrops stinging my flesh. Back in transition, I considered stowing my sunglasses seeing as how it was dark out, but now I was thankful I had them with me. If it stung my flesh, it was going to sting my eyes. But seeing as it was very dark outside and I was wearing rain-covered sunglasses, I could barely see the road in front of me. What a ride!
The majority of the course was excellent road, rolling, straight, no major hazards… but the latter part of the course was covered in tarred-over cracks and sunken troughs which shook the hands and rattled your nether regions. The Paris-Roubaix race was definitely in my mind as I battled wind, rain and rambled over that road. It likely wasn’t Roubaix bad, but hey, I’m a newbie. It hurt…in my area.
I’ve found that during a race, it’s of great psychological advantage to lock-on to someone ahead of you and then pursue and kill them…er, I mean overtake them. It’s like those little speed boost areas in a video game, mentally. Zoooom. Anyway, the last 8 miles of the ride I was tailing a lady in a black and gold bike jersey, normally it was she and I alone and on the downhills, climbs and corners I would make up time but she would hammer away on the straights and make it back. On the final turn onto Gates Road, I was within passing distance of her, but she got down in her aero-bars and started hammering away on the rolling straightaway. I lost her wheel, but she made me work for it. (Update: found my target - Jackie Kern, #1094. Finished in 1:27)
Coming into the transition from the bike, I noticed a lot of people making extaordinary effort to make their transition from bike to run faster. Whether or not it was beneficial is up for debate. You see, triathlon-specific bike shoes are made to be connected to the bike the entire time from T1 to T2. You’ll see people starting on the bike leg with their feet on top of the shoes, and they’ll eventually get them inside when they are moving. Same thing at the end of the leg - people will un-velcro their shoes about 100 yards out and be riding feet-out-of-shoes into transition. While I’m sure that elite-level triathletes will shave precious seconds with such heroics, I doubt very, very seriously that this helps a newbie or even a middle-of-the-pack age grouper. Me? I just unclipped my shoes from my pedals, safely stopped and then jogged to my rack and switched out the cycling shoes for the running shoes, as well as stuffing my towel into my gym bag in an attempt to keep at least my cellphone dry (it worked, mostly). My transition time? 1:41. Not bad. Had I cut of 22 seconds, I could have been 7th in my age group. But as far as “time fat” goes, I could trim 22 seconds nearly anywhere else - better safe than sorry, I say.
The Run
I traded my bike helmet for a visor (a wise choice) and it was still raining! Thunder and lightning on occassion, too! The run course was the first 1.5 miles of our bike course with a turnaround at the end of it. Much to my surprise, I managed to get my legs underneath me within the first mile (an issue at last year’s E. P. Tom Sawyer in which I walked a bit on the 5K route). I think my increased bike training has actually helped my run as I don’t push my legs quite as hard and try to maintain a decent pedaling cadence above all.
I eventually caught up with my Black and Gold target within the first mile, and told her of my ultimately fruitless plans to overtake her on the bike, and congratulated her on the good ride. We parted ways and I kept trotting on, mentioning to another runner that I was “pretty sure that someone told me to never do what we’re doing right now,” meaning running in a thunderstorm. His response: “Mmmhmm.. that’s what momma said!”
I eventually caught up with a guy I had scoped in the water - wearing a one-piece tri suit that looked like a Spiderman suit. The wetness of his jersey made it seem like he had an “IronMan” tattoo on his back, upon questioning, I figured out it was just an optical illusion. “That would be very poseurish of me,” he said. Crestfallen for not actually having overtaken an IronMan, I continued on, but with this guy hot on my heels for a least another mile and a half.
Tony was his name as I come to find out (#1111), and I lead him through the turnaround and for about another mile. I’d look back over my shoulder only to seem him 5-10 yards back. Feeling good, I kicked up the pace around mile 2 and increased the distance slightly. Around 2.5 miles, I could here his feet striking the ground, and close. He pulled alongside me and I said “Are we kicking it in, Tony?” to which he responded “I think we’re all kicking it in”, and slowly pulled away. Another runner split between us (Carl Frost, #1023) and said hello, and it was clear that he was pulling a pace well ahead of ours. Tony began to slowly pull away, and dang if I didn’t try, but didn’t have the legs for it.
Climbing the last hill towards the 200 yards or so of flat before the finish line, I was flanked on either side by viewers. I can’t tell you how much that helps someone who is at their physical limit! So, for all you who are standing there waiting, you might as well be cheering. The crowd I had wasn’t making too much noise, so I implored them to cheer (photo 1), which they responded well to and I gave them thumbs up for it (photo 2), which made me happy and I threw the ROCK sign for the camera waiting at the end (photo 3). Thanks, gallery!
And despite my best efforts, Tony would finish 15 seconds ahead of me, and Carl 12 seconds ahead of him. Tony I was OK with as he wasn’t in my age group, though I’m sure Carl saw that S25 (Sprint, 25-29 age group) mark on the back of my leg as was more than happy to pass me up. I honestly didn’t even notice. I ran a great race by my standard and had a pretty good adventure along the way.
Results
In the end, I finished the race in 1:22:59 (1 hour, 22 minutes and 59 seconds). I was 8th out of 12 in my age group (25-29). Here’s my full splits:
Swim T1 Bike T2 Run TOTAL
10:33 03:01 40:04 01:41 27:37 1:22:59
I was…
…8th out of 12 age group (25-29)
…4th in age group swim (shocking!)
…7th in age group bike
…9th in age group run.
Kelly, meanwhile, finished her run in just under 6 hours, which explained why I was yelling “HURRY!!!” when I saw her near the end. I knew she’d be happy if there was a “5″ on the clock. I am weak and Kelly is so very, very strong.
I had plenty of time to kick around waiting for Kelly, so I made an absurd attempt to get our car out of the mudpit that used to be the parking area. My little Toyota Prius wasn’t made for such low pursuits, and thanks to a couple of helpful people I made my way out of the pit and back onto dry land. I also helped 2 or 3 people get their cars out, too, so I was paying it forward :)
The Muncie Endurathon was a very well-run event with nearly a 1:1 racer to volunteer ratio. Who would have thought that Muncie of all places could sustain an event like this? I don’t know if I get lil ol’ Muncie enough credit. The swag for the finishers was also great: a snappy hat as seen up below.
And yes, I did do the race just for the hat.
I shot a bunch of photos of Kelly’s race that can be found in the 2008 Muncie Endurathon Gallery.
I’ve put the results of both distances into handy-dandy Google Spreadsheet:
2008 Muncie Endurathon SPRINT Results (Google Spreadsheet)
2008 Muncie Endurathon HALF IRON Results (Google Spreadsheet)
You can alternately view/search the official scores at the “Official” Timberline Timing website (scroll to the bottom). Official race photos here: 2008 Muncie Endurathon Photos @ BrightRoom. Kelly’s bib # was 438, mine was 1030.
