The
Tupper Lake TinmanThe
Tupper Lake Tinman
July 17, 1998 - Tupper Lake, New York
1.2 Mile Swim, 56 Mile Bike, 13.1 Mile Run
http://www.tupperlakeinfo.com/tinman
Executive Summary - After a summer of hype, "The Duel" Between Eric Weiss and I finally happens!
Had I known that that I’d be last to post my race report...I’d have taken a day off from work to write one! Sorry to be so late folks...call it recovery. Lets pick it up on Friday, with some details you already sort of know...
I picked up Eric at 9:00am, and settled in for what would be an epic 7 hour haul through some of the prettiest countryside in the Northeast. Having Friday off from work was sweet...but knowing that I’d race tomorrow after being in a car all day worried me a bit. I bided the time shuffling the CD’s around, looking out the window, and trying to ignore the banal legal-ease coming from my travelling partner. He pretended to write some memos, chattered a bit into his tape recorder (which looked remarkably like a Norelco 850 rechargeable razor), and generally filled the time pretending to be doing something useful. All in all, a quiet drive...we checked into the Park Motel at 5:30pm.
After checking into separate rooms (much to the innkeepers chagrin), we noodled over to the pasta party to see if we could scrounge up any TRI-Deads. The food was decent, and while looking for Art or Marc shaped people, we met Lisa and Renee. Renee was doing her first half ironman, and Lisa her first triathlon.
Renee was somewhat politely subdued (read: terrified that Eric, a.k.a, ITG-North was trolling for company), whereas Lisa had enough energy to jumpstart your average ‘63 Ford Fairlane. She was well past ‘psyched’ for her first race...and I figured she’ll be easy to spot from shore during the sprint race with a 4-6 foot rooster tail behind her on the swim start.
After dinner, Eric and I decided to drive the first few miles of the bike course, just to see what we’re in for.
At 5 miles, the first long hill reared its ugly head...and we decided we’d seen enough. The drive back was a quiet one...as we each prepared for the duel 2 years in the making. Eric said he hadn’t been training...and I didn’t believe a word of it. I knew work had wreaked havoc on my training...so I tried to comfort myself into thinking “At least I’m tapered!”
Off to bed by 10:30...trying to light competitive fires within. Tomorrow would be a big day, and I wanted to give it my all. 2 years ago, the ½ ironman distance was daunting...the longest test I could think of daring to enter. Now, I was on the eve of really RACING that distance from the gun...and it felt strange. Lisa reminded me of myself in 1996...all ready to go at all times...just thrilled beyond belief to be there. For me, now it felt different. Experience had bred maturity...and with a tinge of regret I had to admit that for me, the newbie thrill was gone. The questions within me had changed from “Can I do this?” to “How fast can I do this?” Reflecting a bit, I quickly warmed to the new challenge of tomorrow...and I drifted off amid thoughts of turning the gears over easily...feeling strong.
Up at 5:45am, with an 8:00am start 5 minutes away, no need to rush. Eric and I packed up our gear, and despite my efforts to leave a few parts of his bike behind (front wheel, bottles, rear wheel), we headed down to the park for the start. As we milled around, he remarked “Hey...I forgot a bike top. Guess I’ll need to go without today.” Memo to myself: when you catch Eric on the bike, keep your eyes closed or his back will blind you. Through luck...Eric finds Art, who introduces us to Marc. Lynne shows up to make it a true gathering, and now my head is totally spinning! Art seems to be as cool as I expected (as anyone with an honorable PhD in triathlon should be), and Marc is also ultra-cool...goatee and earring in place- styin’! Lynn is a bundle of energy, and I can tell she’s ready to get this party started NOW. As I lay out my gear, looks like the only packing casualty of the weekend is my race belt. No worries...I just have to pin that baby careful-like in T2. At 7:45am, we all head to the beach. It’s time.
As I mill about...a voice comes up behind me and whispers “TRI-DEADS...TRI DEADS...”, I whip around to see Art...game face on, ready to go. I remind myself how happy I was not to take up the Art or Marc challenge...these fellows look fit, fast, and focused. I can already tell...as Eric and I fight amongst ourselves, the Art / Marc duel will go up the road without us. Eric seems nervous...he’s talking more than I am. A good sign? No time to think...the first wave is lined up.
At 8:00am, the siren goes off...and I watch my friends tear off without me. Eric, Marc, Art, Lynn and Renee are all in that wave...and now I know this is real. The butterflies in my stomach are suddenly awake and flying in V-formation: its time to go! The 5 minutes between the waves seems to take an eternity...c’mon, c’mon...lets go! I line up in the front row...on the right side of the course. I usually lay in the middle and move up, but today I’m going to count on the fear factor of starting up front to move me like never before. I’m hoping for a 30 minute swim...a 2:30 bike, and a sub 2:00 run to break 5 hours...but most of all, I need to shut up all this trash talk for once and for all the only way I can. With that in mind...I grin... HORN We’re off!
The front is just as maddening as I’ve thought. Bodies everywhich way...but the field thins out very quickly. With the sun behind me, the buoys are easy to spot...and I settle into my rhythm. I just try to relax the best that I can...knowing I have a long day before me, but the adrenaline in me wants to close the gap NOW. I have to fight to keep from pouring it on too soon. The turnaround comes in 15:06...and in my cruise mode, I miss the friendly greeting of Lynn! Sorry about that...next time, I’ll try to be more polite! As I turn into the sun...a problem. The buoys are orange. The caps in my wave are orange. The sun is DIRECTLY in my face. There are now 85 buoys, all going their own way. #%&! I breast stroke until the buoy that isn’t moving makes itself clear. I sprint for it...and repeat to the next buoy. The sun is brutal...but we all have to deal with it...no use in getting mad. Suddenly...an ambulance in the distance has its lights on. I gamble that this is a sign...and swim for it. The gamble pays off, as I swim to the beach in 33:33 for 1.2 miles. Not the 30:00 I wanted, but fair enough considering how tough it was to get back. After a 2:32 T1, I’m off...in pursuit. This is now MY race...until the run.
I’m feel that I’m in the position of Jurgen Zack and Thomas Hellriegel all those years chasing Mark Allen in Hawaii (of course, about 6mph slower...but I digress). I have a strong bike leg, but a run that falls well short of competitive. This has what has made Eric and I such an interesting balance: Close swims, I ride well...he runs well...and it’s all about who does his respective strength better that day. Knowing this is a hilly bike course...I play my ace. I hope to catch Eric by the turnaround, since I know I’ll need at least a 15 minute lead to have a chance on a hilly run course. I have left the HR monitor behind today...I’m going with a simple strategy: ride as hard as possible, and hang on for dear life off the bike.
The first 28 hilly miles roll by in 1:21...slower than I’d hoped...and with no sign of my nemesis yet, or so I thought. I heard a voice yell out “Jerk!” or something like that near the turnaround. Post race, Eric confirmed a somewhat emotional reaction to the 16 second gap I am blissfully unaware I have closed to. This state of unawareness is becoming a theme... After the turn, drat! I’ve been hydrating well...and nature calls at mile 30. 1:08 later...I’m on the move...more desperate than before. At mile 35, I pass someone who takes the time to mumble something to me...but since I was blinded by the glare of his untanned back, I just kept my eyes shut and motored on past. Blissfully unaware that I have just caught my arch enemy, I set off in desperate pursuit of my arch enemy. (You think after a wave from Lynn, a scream, and a mumble from HIM I might wake up? Noooope...)
Mile 40 rolls by...no Eric. My average speed has climbed to 21.5mph from the outbound speed of 20.8mph.
Mile 50...no Eric. I’m beginning to get depressed. At this rate...I’ll be starting my run with him, and he’ll get to laugh at me and drop me at the same time! Argh! More trash talk! More gloating! I can’t take it! No! NO! NOOOO! I drop the rear deraileur to the 13 cog at every chance...I’ve got to catch him!
Mile 55...I gear down for T2...and I know this duel is over. He must have had the swim of his life...I can’t believe it. As I roll into T2, my 56 mile split is 2:39. I’ve negative split the bike leg by 3 minutes...and it wasn’t enough. As I rack my bike, pin my number, and head out for the run...it never occurs to me to look at Eric’s empty rack 10 feet to my left. Instead, I tear off on a run I know I can’t win...just trying to salvage the day.
Knowing the duel is over...I try to have a good training run. I’ve got a GU for 6.5 miles, and my legs don’t feel too bad despite the paces I’ve just forced them through. The first 2 miles go by in 16:34, and since they were uphill...that’s fine enough for me. Despite my depression over never having even competed with Eric, I’m not going to let this stupid duel ruin my day. Into the woods at mile 5 on this run, the course goes over an abandoned road. More dirt than pavement, it provides a second to second challenge that makes the time pass quickly...looking for secure places to stride. The shade feels good, too. At mile 7 I reach for my GU...and my pockets are empty. It’s gone...lost in the shuffle in the woods somehow. A wave of momentary panic washes over me...I ate 2 GU’s on the bike...but that was it. I’m counting on food on this run course...and aside from orange slices, there’s nothing. I’m on my own. Uh-oh.
At mile 9, my legs are getting heavier. Up to this point, I’ve held on a 1:50 pace for the 13.1 miles...but that’s fading fast. At mile 9.5, I plod for the aid station...and the volunteers ask “Water or Powerade?” I don’t know...umm...Wat- no...ummm “POWERADE?” I weave across the shoulder and reach back for a cup. Behind me reaching for the same cup is someone I don’t have the time to apologize to...and I swig it down. As I try and get some sort of sugar moving in my body, the object of my efforts...the unseen adversary I haven’t passed yet re-passes me. The gap is back down to 5 minutes from the initial 13 at the run start. I (altogether now...) am still blissfully unaware.
The last 4 miles are a tortured, ugly slog. My legs are not my legs, but bags of concrete with Nike’s that I’ve got to carry to the finish. I try to keep running...I can still break 2 hours for the run...and that’s the goal I focus on. The last 1.5 miles are downhill after town...so if I can just get there...I can get home. At mile 11.5, time runs out on my 5 hour goal...but that’s alright. This has still been a great training day...even if I’ve lost...it really is beautiful up here...and I can drive home tomorrow...and we’ve got that barbecue coming up soon...yeah...this triathlon gig isn’t too bad at all...ahhh...the downhill...finally.
C’mon legs...turn over...just down this hill. Man...Eric must have swam a 25:00...that’s it...I’m definitely doing Chesapeake Bay next year too...he really kicked my #%& today...I wonder how Art vs. Marc ended up...boy this hill was a lot longer uphill than it is coming down into town...hey a full GU tube...was that mine? Left turn....half a mile to go...down the hill...across the street...high-five the trooper stopping traffic for me...hey...did a really pale red-head storky-looking guy come through here giggling maniacally before? Oh, nevermind...thanks for not letting me get killed here...right turn...*woosh* HEY! Who’s that passing me with 400 meters to go...go get him...he could be in our age group... c’mon...pick it up...that’s it...close that gap...UGH...why is he accelerating...oh...probably because I’m breathing as loudly as an electrolux...go..go..go...almost...URGH!...man...this hurts...3 feet...4 feet...the gap is growing...I hate sprinters...hey, is that the finish? Wow...I didn’t see it coming...stop the watch. beep 5:14:02. 3rd fastest ½ ironman for me...cool enough. I need a drink...here’s the water...
Standing next to the Powerade cooler is my nemesis. Batman had the Joker...Reagan had Gorbachev...Itchy has Scratchy...I have Eric Weiss. He’s grinning. I’ve lost. Be gracious...it was a fair race. “What the hell sort of swim did you have?” I ask. “Water or Powerade?” he asks, grinning. I know I lost...he’s smiling waay too much. “Powerade” I stammer. “How far back was I?” I ask. He keeps grinning. Damn...I must have gotten killed.
“Congratulations. You kicked my #%(& by 41 seconds.”
Huh? How? I’m too confused to be relieved...and only after 7 cups of Powerade plus a post-event dissection of what happened where do I know how it went. Too funny...I felt like a race driver after a wreck when the interviewer says “What happened?” and the driver says “ I don’t know...I need to look at the tape!” I was there...but I don’t remember much at all. That’s the first time that’s ever happened to me...and I’m not all that sure I like that. I can’t help but feel that I missed something...but as the day panned out, once the race was run...that human element of triathlon snuck up and made a good, albeit surreal day into a great, great day.
Marc and Art had their own epic duel...and summarily trounced Eric and I by 26 minutes. Lisa finished, and can now call herself a triathlete. Renee crossed that line into the ½ ironpeople world. The BBQ afterwards was just positive energy being shared all around with Lynn and Ron showing up late to add to the good karma...watching the sunset over the distant peaks...watching Marc and Art’s kids play in the lake...it made me feel glad to have made the long trip. It was the part of the day I had missed earlier...and it gave a perfect close to the day, almost.
Back in our room...Eric and I toasted our duel over 2 large Chocolate Shakes and Fries to end this chapter.
Next round...IMC. Bets, anyone? :)