Righteous Richland (mountain bike) Sprint Tri

I swear I don’t spend time thinking of stupid things to do. I’m not fond of self torture either, yet ended up with a heavy dose of both. It’s a behavioral disorder. Two sprint Tris: Race the River or Righteous Richland? Ryan Brown was signed up for his hometown race in Richland. It’s an off road tri, he’s an off-road racer and trains on this course. We’d have a sleepless unskilled off-road racer drive more than two hours to an unfamiliar course to race the local favorite and three-time defending champion. I figured Roger would whoop me, but Ryan would whoop me by more, so I chose Righteous Richland for a better challenge. Why sleep when I could race?

I put borrowed ITU aero bars on a borrowed mountain bike. It took some thick pads in the clamps to hold the bars in place … sort of. My hope was to limit my losses riding aero on the paved section. Vertical Earth couldn’t be aware of my poor mountain biking skills. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have loaned me a mountain bike. After work I drove the whole way without dozing off. I had just enough time to get set up and do the short warm-up swim I promised myself after Ironman. The race: ½-mile swim in the river, 12-mile bike and 5K run.

I quickly took the lead, but a guy was trying to outrace me. I eased up and got on his toes. Oh, so it’s time to get lazy? Nope. I’m just racing smart. Meanwhile, the smart/experienced ones arced wide to let the current carry them to the lead. I was distracted until the swim exit angle was 45 degrees, then 90 degrees and finally, I was swimming back toward the exit against the mild current near shore. Next time I’ll probably remember to adjust my aim for the current and not lose my lead.

My 6:50 swim was top 5, but Ryan was ahead. I hoped for a :30 buffer. Game over! Refusing to listen to those silly details, I charged the hill, and blazed T1, exiting in first place. My split was 1:25 … sort of. Arriving late kept me from hearing that the mount line was just out of T1, normally a no-brainer. We were in a park and had to work our way to the road. Hello rookie! Mountain bikers ride off-road. I’m running as Ryan rides past me. I got my T1 split at the road.

One thing to know about Ryan is that he’s a fast biker. I’m talking Roger fast. If the bike I was riding had a panic button, I’d push it. Instead, I just went hard and hoped I could finish biking without getting passed by too many. Remember how the aero bars needed pads to fit better? I didn’t. I almost crashed as the pad squished and the front end dropped almost to the tire, making it feel like they were made from a garden hose. Sorry volunteer guy. I wasn’t trying to swerve at you like that.

The bars were terrible, but more stable and comfortable than resting my forearms on the handle bars like a real biker can. Mountain bikes feel like they can corner at any speed. After nearly making it into the river for the 2nd time this race, I decided to be more careful. At the off road section, I was thrilled to be just :15 down. I scanned the terrain and worked the single track for all the speed I could get. Rolling up to an arrow pointing to the right, I went wide, leaned and powered into that corner.

Apparently God isn’t required to make corners like people do. It was about 100 degrees, covered with sand and just wide enough to roll a basket ball between the trees and bushes. It’s OK that I wasn’t on the path, but not OK that my face, neck, hands, and arms were getting raked by the trees and bushes. Why waste time with glasses to protect my eyes? Seeing where I was supposed to go wasn’t working for me anyway. I had no idea where Ryan was. I didn’t know where I was. It reminds me of youth group … way back when I was half my age. The pastor said “If you can’t follow the straight and narrow, then swerve across it as much as possible.” That’s how my ride went.

I hit nearly every branch and bush on (or was it off?) the course. Nearing the road I was told Ryan was 1:45 up. The good thing about his lead being 7 times bigger is that it’s less than 8. Allegedly he had to stop for a quick CO2 blast to fill a low tire. I had a low tire too, but was planning on airing it up after I crashed (the fastest way to stop). I made it back to T2 in 2nd. My ride was 34:39 (20.78 MPH). I had scratches from waist to helmet. Note to self: Next time wear a shirt and glasses retard.

A high school XC relay dude took off while I was in T2 for 18 seconds. I didn’t expect to catch XC or Ryan (around 1:30 to 2:00 ahead). On the first corner, I realized I forgot to synch my shoes. That’s just too darn bad. I can tighten them when I sit down to cry until I get dehydrated at the finish line, but for the moment, I was busy. First lie, “I can pass XC guy within a quarter mile.” Naturally, I try it and caught him. Next lie, “If I run really hard for a mile, then I can walk. It’s over anyway.”

I pushed so hard I sounded like a drowning asthmatic cow. I saw a guy up the trail on his daily run. Pretending it was Ryan, I gave chase. To my surprise, it was Ryan. Sneaking up on him was out of the question. He was having a good run (according to him), but I was closing in fast. With a mile to go, I ran up on him. He sped up and I thought, “He was just cruising and is now going to crush me.” I called myself some mean names to get fired up (works every time). So I’m psychotic! Instead of letting him surge ahead, I ran stupid fast and passed him trying to make it look easy. I wasn’t fooling anyone.

He lost the draft, so I kept pressing to keep him from coming back. I pushed for 1:30 to make him think I could run that fast. It doesn’t make sense to run faster than I was capable to make someone believe I could run that fast. My legs were fine, but my lungs and guts didn’t totally love it (stole that last part from Jessi). I thought he was holding a small gap and waiting to sprint past me, so I kept pushing and doing time/distance math (I love math) to coax myself to the finish. To my surprise, I got there before he did.

My run time was 17:20 (5:34.73/M) and my finish time was 1:00:34. Ryan came in :28 seconds back. I don’t know if the run was long or short. I just know I got lucky. I did what I thought I couldn’t do. Rather than my traditional 180 second walk, I stumbled under a tree and fell on my face … still gasping violently for air. A nice man named Steve told me to keep walking to keep lactic acid from pooling up. I was OK with lactic acid. I was not OK with moving. I wondered if the challenge of beating the odds is worth it. I thrive on that more than winning. If winning mattered, then I’d avoid the fast guys and the races they have an advantage in, especially when I have to travel on no sleep. A few times this year I’ve gutted out wins over better athletes. I know I’m not the fastest, so I guess I have to be the toughest.