Swim start is right on time, and the course is completely different than what was described on-line. Really, how hard is it to make up your mind about this? It's not like they haven't run this race the previous four years. The good news is that it's the swim, which means the course is going to be:

• Flat
  
• Wet
  

..and we're off! Tempe Town Lake is the site of my previous debacle, but I think I have vanquished that ghost by doing the Splash & Dash last weekend. I see the family on the segment of the shore that juts out and wave. Not once but twice. Tammy later reports that she never saw me in the swim, but there was some guy that waved. She thinks it could have been me because he swam like a cat someone had just thrown in the water.

I'm in the first wave, red caps, and try to just envision myself as a neoprene clad train, slow and steady. Realistically, I'm the "Little Engine That Could", puttering up the hill. I get whacked in the back of the head twice and fondled a few times, in other words, a normal triathlon swim. Then, suddenly I see the wave behind us come charging through. So, I start assigning them names based on trains. Yes, I really did this while in the water. The second wave was had silver caps, so clearly they had to be the Bullet Train. They came through so fast that they sure looked like it. Then, a little while later, "Look! Here comes the TGV!" Finally, as I near the exit I see whatever this
Pink Train is.

I have good swimming form when I'm concentrating on my form, but when I'm not, I revert to the worst common denominator. I need to work on the "off season" so that my good form is the habit, not the exception.

I hit the exit stands and need two people to help me out. I think perhaps they need to figure out different way to have people get out other than up on a platform a foot above the waterline with no ground underneath to push off from. Off with the cap and goggles and up the steps. I unzip the wetsuit and take it off down to the waist. I have this done just before the "wetsuit strippers". No, not people clad in neoprene dancing on poles, but the people who help you get out of your suit. The protocol is pretty funny. You run up to them and gracefully plop down on your butt. They grab the suit and pull it off, help you up and hand you your suit. I'm suprisingly out of breath but make sure I trot into my bike. I wipe my feet off, put on my socks, stuff some Gu into my jersey pocket, get my glasses and helmet on, and I'm off. Easy jog out with the bike, mount and I'm off.

Don't sweat the Gu.

I spin my legs up and work on my "l33t bike skilz". This means I manage to hit a cone as I exit. Takes a few minutes to get my feet in my shoes and I also try to start getting some fluid and calories in. Then, I put my head down and start hammering. Well, ok, I ride as hard as I can. I'm amazed at how much power some of the people blowing by me can put down. They are going at about the same cadence I am (over 90 rpm) but they are obviously pushing it every stroke. Clearly I need to work on that. The funniest moment of the ride comes at the top of the biggest hill. I'm now in my lowest gear, just spinning, and make the turn a little too sharp. However, there is a curb cut there and I end up on the sidewalk. I ride here for a little bit hoping there is going to be one for me to get out on. It is not to be, and eventually I have to give up, stop, walk over to the street and start back down. More of those "l33t bike skilz". Still, 30 miles later, and I'm glad to be off the bike.

Need to develop better biking power. Oh, and how about developing "skilz".

The good news about leaving your shoes on the bike is how much easier it is to run. That is the theory at least. My toes have lost feeling on the bike and as I start to run it feels exactly like I'm still wearing cleats. Still, in I coast, put on my shoes, swap the helmet for the hat, grab the Garmin and I'm off.

Figure out how to keep my toes from going numb.

I just try to get into an easy rhythm. People are going to pass me, my only goal is that it's not any of the Half Ironman athletes. I see Horde early on, and stop to give them all kisses. I think they all wished I had kept running, maybe even picked up the pace a little to spare them the stench for a few microseconds.


A few people pass me, mostly women, since they started later, and then it starts to spread out. The run is fine until about mile 3 when I realize I'm "sloshing". I skip a few aid stations to let the water absorb, but now I'm starting to look wistfully at every bush that would provide even a semblance of cover. There is an "out and back" section and it's funny how people on the way out start asking how far the turnaround is. Why? If it's too far you're not going to do it? Finally, with a mile and a half to go I get a good long look at a port-a-potty. No one goes in, so I run up, take care of the sloshing, and run out. Sure enough, someone in my age group has passed me. I just decide not to worry about it. Then the 6 mile mark shows up. He's still in sight, so I pick up the pace and catch up to him and with a few hundred yards to go he picks it up too. Fortunately he doesn't have the same ChaCha's as the guy two weeks ago and I can just cruise into the finish line instead of being at an all out sprint.

Guess I'd try to drink less. Overall, I was happy with my run. I can do it faster, but not by a lot.

Grab gatorade, pizza, water, a small chihuaha or rat that didn't move fast enough, Snickers bars and try to recover. Slowly exit transition and teeter to where I last saw the Horde cheering me on at the finish. In a clear oversight we didn't plan on where we would meet post-race. Takes a while but I track them down. We sit around a bit and the kids eath the Snickers bars before I have the two oldest "help me" pack up my stuff and get my bike. Then off to the car and home. I wish I could have stayed and socialized, but the 3 kids and family (and myself) are wiped. Naps are good things.


Swimming skills and a lack of bike power.

It's also strange. I'm so used to my level of tiredness to be directly tied to how far I've run, that I'm having a hard time being so tired when I only ran 6.5 miles. I know there was the stuff before that, but it's a strange mental block.


This is the 5th annual running of this race. I just don't understand how they can't have some stuff just figured out. Race cap colors. Distances. Swim course. Updated website that is accurate. In spite of all that, the race is well organized. Plenty of aid and water stations. Great volunteers.