"But What About Bob?"
Eric Weiss' take on The Tupper Lake Tinman.
July 17, 1998 -- Tupper Lake, NY
Tupper Lake.
A lake, a town, a ½ IM somewhere in the Adirondack Mountains.
A race that had absolutely perfect conditions. How does 75 F sound? How about low humidity? How about warm water during the swim? How about just enough wind to cool you down during the run, but not create any waves during the swim? Well paved, clean roads, with large shoulders. Great support from the community and great homemade chocolate chip cookies after the race.
As some of you may or may not know, Bob Mina & I have been racing against each other (unbeknownst to us) ever since we crossed the finish line together at Fairmount Park in 96. It turns out that we have raced head to head three other times and finished within a minute or two of each other each time. We decided Tupper Lake was the tune up for this year, with IMC being the “Thrilla in Manilla. “
Bob picks me up around 9:00am and we start the 7.5 hour drive to upper state New York. I smartly pack a lot of work and a fake cellular phone so that I can pretend to make phone calls to my office, thus avoiding conversation with my sworn enemy.
We arrive, check in, hit the pasta party and meet Lisa and Renee. Lisa (yes the one who already posted) is just a bundle of energy. Renee is there to do her first ½ IM. They both are instantly smitten with me. “What about Bob?” You ask. They find him interesting in the way a biologist finds a lab rat interesting.
The next morning we head off to the race site. While setting up we meet Marc Harrison, Art Hutchinson and Lynn Kapusta. Again, I am well liked, Bob is liked like a lab rat. I laugh as a friend of Art’s attaches a piece of tape to his helmet that reads “I Suck!” Then it is off to the race start.
I don my green swim cap and head out into my wave. The water is warm (~70F) and there is almost no chop. Art, Marc and I line up with all the other people in our age group. The gun goes off. After about ten strokes I have my goggles knocked off. This is the first time in three years of racing that this has happened. I calmly put them back on and keep swimming. A little later I spy someone with a long tube extending up past his head. During every breath I keep looking at this thing, trying to figure out what it is. At first I think it is a shark fin. The guy must be playing a joke. Then I realize, this guy is using a snorkel! I continue swimming and finish up the “V” shaped course in 35:00. Not my best swim, but considering I have not been in the pool in at least 2 weeks, I am not upset with it. When I exit the water, I see both Marc and Art putting their cycling shoes on.
“But, What about Bob?” You ask?
Bob, being a young tike of only twenty-seven, is put in the remedial orange cap wave. This means I have a five minute head start on him.
I pop on the bike and head out. The course is flat for about the first 2-3 miles. After this warm up we hit the worst hill of the course. I gear down and start spinning. One guy passes me. A second guy passes me. A third guy passes me. A girl...ahem...woman passes me. A second woman passes me. A third woman passes me. A dog passes me. A cat passes me. Fricking Winne the Pooh passes me.
I know I am not the best climber in the world, and I have been a little lax on the hill work this year, but this was getting pathetic. I felt like I was riding on flat tires. Person after person; young, old, male, female, healthy, unhealthy, white, black, yellow, blue, tri bike, road bike, mountain bike, Huffy...it didn’t matter. They all passed me.
About two miles before the turn around I see Art cruising the other way. He is somewhere around 20th place. Marc goes by shortly thereafter in about 32nd place. I head into the turn around, grab a water bottle and head back toward the transition. My plan is to just go from aid station to aid station (they were placed about every 8 miles) and just get back into town.
“But, What about Bob?” You ask?
He has not passed me yet. He is of no concern. I have no fear of him. He is nothing. I will crush him. In fact, I have completely forgotten about him. He doesn’t even enter my mind. Bob who? I ask.
I immediately hit my watch and hope I can make it at least one minute back towards town before I see Bob. This would place me two minutes ahead on the course, but three minutes behind him because of the staggered swim. I know I can make up three minutes on the run. I barely get back into the aero position when I see him. I look at my watch and it reads 00:16!! Yikes, only a 32 second lead? That hurts.
Somehow I hold Bob off for twenty-two minutes. I say it is because of my exceptional response in the face of adversity. Bob says it’s because he had to pee. Yeah right! As he passes me I shout, “Get it while you can!”
While riding back I see a woman in a two piece blue suit running with her bike. She is not running back to the transition area, but rather out towards the turn around. Strange site, but I am concentrating on getting to the next aid station and thanking all the people who are lying to me when they say, “You look strong!”
I eventually make it back to the transition area. Dismount, throw on the sneakers and hit the porta-potty before starting the run. As I go out, I hear, “And that is number 317, Eric Weiss from Blue Bell Pennsylvania heading out onto the run. Good Luck Eric. Bob has a twelve minute lead on you.” (Well, I did hear something about me and where I was from.)
“But, What about Bob?” You ask?
He is ahead of me. Haven’t you been reading the report?
The run course is rolling hills. Nothing killer, but enough to make you dig in a little. I cruise to a 7:23 on the first mile. The next two are in the 7:40 range. I know this is too fast for me, but I always run too fast in the early stages of any race. I figure I will catch good old what’s his name at any moment. The run portion goes off of the main roads and starts to follow an abandoned road in the woods. This is great because it has tons of cover. I hit mile 4 and still don’t see.... I hit mile 5 and still don’t see...Mile 6....Mile 7... I am still running well. I am catching and passing several people, but I can feel the break down looming in the near future. I am now walking the aid stations. My times have dropped to about 8:15-8:30s per mile. I decide that if I catch...that guy...before Mile 10 I will attempt to bridge the five minutes advantage he has on me. If I catch him after Mile 10, I will just run with him to the end, admit defeat, and then bludgeon him in the middle of the night with his own bike pump. I hit Mile 8, where you exit the woods and get back on to the roads. Mile 9 brings the longest hill on the run course. This is where I see him. He is shuffling. He is on the hill. He is mine! I catch him at the aid station at mile 9.5. He takes the water I ask for. Now I am not just mad, I am miffed!
I take off. I run hard. I run harder than I should. My legs hurt, but worse, my stomach hurts. I curse myself for letting my weight training go by the way side. I could really use some of those sit ups now. I pass the ten mile marker. This is where I pour it on. My plan is to run Mile 10 hard, ease back at Mile 11 and then go for everything during the last 1.1 miles. I stick to my plan. Somewhere around the 12 mile marker I see the girl who was running with her bike. She is just starting the run course. I offer her some encouragement, and think about how good she looks in her two piece blue swimsuit. She hollers back that I look great in my blue Speedo. I hit the home stretch. It is a large field with the finish line on the other side. As I come in the announcer again calls out my name. I am happy I have finished. I want some water. I want to sit down and sleep.
“But, What about Bob?” You ask?
This is becoming just a little annoying. After crossing the finish line, I hit my lap button - not the button that stops the stopwatch. If the lap gets to 5:00 before Bob comes in, I win. Anything less, he wins.
I get some water. I look at my watch. 1 minute. I get some Powerade. My watch says 2 minutes. I don’t see Bob anywhere on the horizon. I talk with some people who are hanging around the water/Powerade. My watch now reads 3:00. Things are getting close. I am starting to get my breath back. Another glance at the watch reveals a 3:30. No Bob on the horizon. 4 minutes and...wait...I can see him. Maybe he will fall...no, I don’t play that way. Bob crosses the finish line. I hit the stop button. I look at it. 41 seconds separate us.
Bob finishes in 73rd Place.
I finish in 74th place.
Curses, foiled again.
After the race, Marc has all of us over for a little barbecuing, conversation and just plain relaxing. Art and Marc have great wives, who seem to do more than just put up with their husbands tri activities. I think they actually enjoy it. Lynn’s husband is also great, although I knew that from meeting him last year. Several of us noticed the guy with the snorkel. We also noticed the girl running with her bike. The story is that she got a few flat tires and then broke her wheel. Apparently, she ran to the next house on the course, called her father and had him bring her another wheel. Whether it is true or not, she kept going and finished the race.
A great race, a great time and fun for all.