Gulp.

I signed up for the 'Got the Nerve' sprint race the week before. It would be a low-key race, filled with plenty of first-timers. With just a 500 Meter Swim, 15 Mile Bike, and 3.1 Mile Run, I knew that I could get through it. Even on no sleep, I could get through it. This was a good thing, because I've learned that Katie knows when Mom or Dad needs sleep (such as an early meeting) and can be counted on tossing any REM hopes out the window. Such is life. The night-before-the-race-sleep is overrated, right?

I rolled into registration, checked in, and found some rack space.  After a quick walk to the lake to make sure I needed the wetsuit (63F - you bet!), I came back and untangled by bike from the 39 that had magically appeared on my rack in the last 10 minutes before transition closed, and laid out my stuff on my towel.

When I put down my running shoes I thought, "Weird. Where are my lace locks?" Of course, my lace locks were home on my running shoes, where they should be. This was because I'd reached into my closet the night before, and grabbed my lawn-mowing shoes by mistake. No problem. They were my running shoes two weeks ago; I'd just retired them when they hit 300 miles. "It's only a 5K. I can deal." I thought.

The first race is all about making those mistakes. Get them out of the way - check!

There would be wave starts - I was in wave 6 with all the other big guys. Since this was my third swim since, umm, March, I had very modest goals: (1) Don't drown, (2) Don't get lost, (3) Don't explode the wetsuit. I was pleasantly surprised that the wetsuit fit really well - it hadn't shrunk! YESSS!

I waddled into the brisk (ahem!) waters of Gretna Lake, and splashed around enough to call it a warmup. I lined up in the second row, and just smiled through the countdown. "3...2...1...GO!" And we're of- *PUNT!*

Before I'd even taken my first stroke of the year, I took my first kick to the face. D'oh! Just like last year at Columbia! My right goggle was flooded, but I could see out of the left eye. I focused on the first buoy and took a wide line; when I got there, I stopped, drained the goggle, and got back to work. The swim was over before I knew it - I had no idea how well I'd done, but I'd caught the wave before me.

Three minutes caught in a seven minute swim? Who needs practice?

Swim Split (plus 150 yard transition run):

8:37, 6th of 57 in AG.

After much hopping I got out of the wetsuit, into the shoes, and hit the road for my first T1 exit of 2006. I rolled out, locked eyes with the volunteer as he pointed left, and made a brake-free, swooping left turn. I tucked down, and looked at all the people in the waiting cars as they waved at me. They were really waving, too! Some with both

hands! Some of them were even cheering! The problem was, they were all cheering, "Wrong way! Wrong way!" The volunteer wasn't pointing for me - she was directing a car behind me. I'd gone off-course less than 1/10th of a mile into the ride. That's gotta' be a record.

One U-Turn later, I was pointed the right way and heading straight up the valley wall. Like most roads in Central Pennsylvania, this bike course would be made up of paved, God-Forsaken, Amish Goat Paths. When the Amish laid out their roads years ago, they must have felt that switchbacks were for sinners, since most roads seem to be placed where they go straight up without pity. I knew that most of the bike course would be this way: no worries. It's just a sprint! For the next 17.5 miles I was either groveling and grinding at 5mph in my 23, or tucked out and descending like Franz Klammer (minus the yellow downhill suit).

Now if you're paying attention you may be wondering, "17.5 miles? What about 15 miles?" Excellent question. Near the end of the bike, I started getting that nagging, "IShouldReallyBeDoneWithThisRideAlreadyShouldn'tI?" feeling. Without a bike computer or watch I couldn't really say for sure where I was, but it felt like I was slow. Had to be slow. Turns out that there was a car accident on the bike course, and they had to re-route us mid-race to

avoid the cleanup. Amazingly, this was done without a hitch - we went an extra 2.5 miles, and then re-joined the original planned course.

More miles is more gooder, right? You bet.

When I rolled into T2 I sat up and spun in nice and easy, and then realized, "Hey! I didn't get passed! I just pitched a shutout!" That was a surprise, especially since I felt like I'd been on the bike all day.

Bike Split:

50:41- 10th of 57 in AG. (21.0mph)

I arrived at my surprisingly empty rack, and unclicked the helmet and shoes. I put on socks as quickly as possible (yes, even for a 5K; I'd blister running to my car without socks), and then reached down for my lace locks, which of course, were exactly where I'd left them. For one full second, my brain stopped and went completely Neanderthal.

"Must tie laces? How Bob tie laces?"

Some deep corner of my mind harkened back to rabbits going around trees and down holes, and with no real drama I managed to get some kind of knots tied well enough to keep the shoes from flying off...at least, immediately. I made for the transition exit, and headed towards the run.

For just a 1.55 mile out, it seemed to take FOREVER to get to the turnaround. Maybe because I kept telling myself, "It's a sprint! It'll be over in a second! You won't even sweat!" I'd somehow convinced myself that 3 miles was more like 3 feet. At least my legs felt good; riding the tri-bike was supposed to make me feel better running, and it

was working. My legs felt fresh - fast. Sadly, at the turnaround, I saw why.

The run was on a nice, shady, rail-trail. A graded rail trail. Do you know that when you're running on a 1% downhill grade, it'll make you feel fantastic? Did you also know that running uphill a 1% grade will make you insane? It looks flat - it should feel flat, but it won't!  Oh, no. All the way back to the finish it was, "Who put the piano in my

pocket?"

But, I made it. Didn't get passed by too many, and finished running hard. First race, done! In the bag. Butterflies, back in V-Formation, and more ready for Tupper.

Run Split: 24:38, 25th of 57 in AG (7:57 pace)

Despite all the whoopsies, boo-boo's, wrong turns, forgotten shoes, and lack of sleep, I managed to finish 8th in my AG in 1:27:13, 45th overall out of 498. I was done racing for the day, and it wasn't even 10:00AM yet. A guy could get used to this sprint thing. 

But of course, was that enough? No way. Not for me. I'm totally trying to cram as many miles as I can into my legs before Tupper, sleep-levels be d@mned. I hooked up with some of the Guy's Guys (and one Guy's Gal), and we rode the bike course again (it didn't get any flatter). Then we added an extended loop into Hershey, PA, because that

was a town we could find.

The air was so sweet at Hershey, just breathing it in was like taking in a GU. We ended up with another 48

miles, and a major chocolate buzz all the way home.

3 weeks to Tupper Lake.  It's only 4 times as far. Should I be worried?

Hurricane Bob
* No brain, no headache. *

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