Small field, so there was very little jostling/clobbering. Unfortunately, not much in the way of drafting opportunities either. Water was stained brown with minerals/sediment like over-steeped tea, but temp was comfortable and the water quality was good on the whole. I did a nice job sighting, and mixed in very little breaststroke. Felt a bit winded coming home and experienced a few strange moments of disorientation. Couldn't tell if I was caught up in hidden current or just tiring and losing form, but it felt weird, and made me think of the experience others have had with vertigo. Didn't last very long in any case, and I just plugged away until I could see the sandy bottom and get my feet down. Ran up the beach among the first fifteen or twenty age-groupers.

Nothing. Good swim in pleasant surroundings.

They handled the transitions like a full IM, with wetsuit strippers and changing tents. Not sure whether this saved me time or slowed me down.

Struggled to get my tri-top on over wet skin (again). Might be time to start wearing it under my wetsuit.

Struggled early on the bike. Wind was sapping my strength and nutrition fell apart early. Lost my Clif bar on one of the first bumps, so I had no solid food at all. Relied exclusively on liquid calories, which did a number on my already unhappy stomach. Was pushing the pace on the flats and downhills, but my legs felt leaden and unresponsive early on, and I was on the edge of nausea during long portions of the ride. Negative thoughts crept in very early as a result. Left for my second lap with some doubt about whether I would finish. Wind was demoralizing, and my speed really dropped wherever the terrain sloped upward. My fastest split ever for 56 miles (by almost ten minutes), but too much energy burned up as a result and problems putting fuel back in the system. Even though I came off the bike well ahead of my goal time, I already knew I was in trouble and that a PR for the day was unlikely. Maybe that kind of negative thinking got me further into trouble, but my body was sending plenty of signals that it was unhappy by that point.

I've made some HUGE strides on my bike this summer, particularly on rides under 25 miles. Went too hard for too long here, and didn't have a proper base in any case. Would easing off have put me in better position for a stronger run? Hard to tell. Did lack of solid food send my already delicate stomach over the edge? So many different aspects to my discomfort and fatigue, but most of it probably boils down to being under-trained and chasing a PR too aggressively.

Things pretty much shut down for me here. I left T2 at 3:41, which meant that anything under 2:19 on the run would get me home under six hours (my season goal). I ran 2:08 in Oceanside in March, so this should have been no problem. It's only too bad they don't log results based on "should."

Despite the math, there was never a realistic chance of me breaking six hours here. The bike left me feeling extremely sapped, and there was a big part of me mulling over whether to turn in my chip and spare myself further beating. In the end, I convinced myself to head out for the first run loop, with the caveat that I could quit after that if things still felt yucky.

Unlike most races, I had absolutely no trouble here limiting my speed/pace in the early goings. It was a slog from step one, and I was already into a run/walk regimen by mile three. Took some fluids and forced a gel down, which caused my already upset stomach to twist itself into a painful knot. Jogged and walked with stringy saliva roiling in my mouth and thoughts of projectile relief. Decided around mile 5 that I would definitely quit when I got back to the start and that it was better to DNF gracefully than do myself real harm in the afternoon heat.

Not sure why I kept going really, except that I didn't want the DNF albatross around my neck. Maybe that's foolish pride? On the other hand, I was wearing a Blazeman tri-top, and thinking about Jon Blais' strength and courage put my problems into a different perspective. I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and focus instead on the beauty of my surroundings, the good health and good fortune I've enjoyed throughout my life, and the strength and determination of other competitors on the course, some of whom were having better days than mine, others worse.

Anyway, I started out for loop two knowing it would be ugly, and I was 100% correct in that. My split for loop 1 was already grim (1:11), and loop 2 proved even more tedious (1:26). Walked a lot in miles 11 and 12, trying to muster some energy to run in the last mile. Got my legs going with about half a mile to go, and with nobody else around me, decided to do the Blazeman log-roll at the finish. Announcer was VERY cool about and spent a few minutes talking about Jon Blais and the Blazeman Foundation. Good to help get the word out even on a tough day. Knowing that I had endured a little bit of adversity so that others could hear a few words about the Blazeman and maybe learn more about his story cheered me considerably.

Slogged my way to my second best HIM finish, though I wouldn't say I performed strongly or even competently. One nice thing about the sport of triathlon: there's rarely any dishonesty that doesn't come back to bite you in the tush. Uneven training and lack of focus this summer caught up to me on a course I had underestimated. Sub-six remains the goal, though, so there's more work to be done. Glad to finish another HIM with good health and without injury.