Yesterday's post should have revealed how I feel about this event, this whole day, and how I consider it to be one of the highest of the high points of the summer. If you've never gone, you have to go. Have. To.
We had the promise of some pretty decent weather. The skies were clear, the air calm, the humidity low. There was no reason to expect anything but stellar results in every leg.
Speaking of low, the lake was low. Really low. It was so shallow we were scooping handfuls of bottom silt with every stroke as we neared the turn buoy. I've never seen the like this low. Fifteen brave souls entered the water, including one Allen Burris.
Greg of course dominated the swim, as if there would be any doubt. He let me hang around for the first lap or so, but after that, totally all Greg. He was out of the water and gone before I got back.
This was the first opportunity to use my Garmin open water, and it worked like a charm. I swam 2225 yards, which is 20 yards longer than 1.25 miles. Since the swim was supposed to be 1.2 miles, the path I swam was long. I suspect few people were able to swim a much better line (I know Miller didn't!), so folks, those swim times are better than you think.
Check out my data for the swim.
We took our time transitioning to the ride, and by the time we'd gathered, there were 19 riders, which is almost certainly a record. The start of the ride is a 6-mile easy procession to Highway 40. Once across, we stopped to gather those willing to go hard. I looked back dubiously, noting the numbers of novice pace line riders. I followed my instincts and moved to the front. If there was a crash, and there was a better than average chance there might be with so many newbies, I didn't want to be in it.
Steve had the ceremonial first pull, and in typical Steve fashion, laid down the law. It might have included some downhill, but also in typical Steve fashion, Steve had downplayed his fitness. He looked strong.
Jimmy got on next, and I must say, I'm more and more impressed with his riding every day. He took a very long pull, over 5 minutes, and he held pretty good speed. He tapped, and I was on.
I'd noted how long each guy pulled, and how hard. It worked out to a bit over 5 minutes, and they averaged around 24.5 on the flat. I figured the pulls would be long, so I decided to pull longer. I took it up a bit, then settled back into the 25 mph range and held it - until we had to start making turns, there was a truck in our path, etc... I wound up in front for a bit longer, but it wasn't all hard work. Then it was Miller's turn.
He'd been watching too, and he tore it up without nearly as many interruptions. He was steady, he ground it out, and he had a tough stretch of wind to fight. After a strong pull, he handed to Greg.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for with a mixture of dread and excitement. How fast would he go? How long? Would we survive it?
He did pull hard, for a short time, but he settled in to the more sedate pace we'd been holding. Ah! He was taking mercy on us!
Around this time the line started breaking up. Well, actually, the line really broke up from the start (novices were almost immediately lost), but now more veteran riders were dropping out. The crazy thing was we weren't going fast. It was simply hard riding out there because of the wind. It wasn't terribly strong, but it seemed to be in our faces where ever we were. Even at that, it wasn't aligned in a way that drafting helped a great deal. It was a quartering headwind, forcing riders to get into echelon formation to get any benefit. This type of riding really takes experience, and obviously those that haven't pace lined for very long suffered. For my part, whenever I pulled, I tried to stay in the middle of the road. This offered the greatest variety of options for those behind me.
Around this time, Merom, we had been whittled down to Steve, Jimmy, me, Miller, Greg, and Bob (in that order). Greg came off the front a bit past Merom, Steve came back on, and off he went on another long pull. This one wasn't quite as fast, for good reason - the wind was really starting to pick up. By now it was hard to hold much more than 23-24 mph for any distance.
Jimmy's second pull was every bit as good as his first. He was steady, he was almost as fast as Steve, and he pulled long. This area was flat and wide-open, which had the disadvantage of being totally exposed to the wind.
My turn came, and we were still in the flats. I felt pretty good about this one. I'm best when I can get in aero and go steady, and the area really allowed me to do that. We had a few turns, but overall I was able to pull some steady speed, reaching 28 mph heading into the infamous "Corner" (it's a whole different story). Once again, I held it for over 5 minutes before giving over to Miller.
Miller was just as good the second time, too. His second turn starting gently rolling and twisting, and he was just the man for the job. Miller could take things up to 22-24 mph and hold it there, very impressive under the conditions.
Greg took one more short pull directly into the wind, and he was out. Steve was back on, and by this time we were headed right into the wind. This pull was his shortest, maybe a couple of minutes or so, and by now the speed was dropping to 21-22. It was getting tough.
Jimmy was up, and he tried to match. He did, for a time, but his pull was shorter too. I could sense him beginning to lose it, could feel he was ready to tap, and when he did, I told him I'd just hold the pace for a little bit.
Steve had asked us to do a 30 count before pressing, which I did. After that, I slid it up to 24-25, holding it as long as I could. I wanted at least 5 minutes at the helm, and despite a couple of rollers that reminded me over and over I can't climb right now, I held on to pace nicely. I wasn't happy about how slow it seemed, but we'd gone far enough for me to see no one was able to really tear it up.
Figuring I'd slowed down too much to stay in front (I was down to 22-23 mph), I tapped. That's when I saw what was left of us - Steve, Miller, and me. Jimmy had destroyed himself with his last pull, and the others are a bit behind on their training. It was now down to us, and Miller was up.
This particular leg is noteworthy because it might be the most impressive pull of the day. Not because of its speed, because it wasn't the fastest. Not because of its length, because it wasn't the longest. No, it's the most impressive because of when it came. That last 2-3 mile stretch features the last climb, which, while not large, is the hardest climb of the entire course. It comes at precisely the worst possible time, and the run up to it was all into headwind.
Miller did it all.
Steve and I both understood we should have had it passed to us. Miller didn't. I kept shouting encouragement, I knew what he was thinking, it was a challenge, and he wanted to beat it. I started singing to him (which I'm not sure helped). He chugged all the way up that thing with no help. Pretty dang impressive.
The remaining fragments of our original party began trickling in, and we took our break. Thanks to the support group, especially Kayla, who made those cookies I couldn't stop eating! One-by-one the bikers arrived, some looking fresh, some flopping on the ground in a nonverbal declaration that the day's riding was OVER!
The biggest part of us collected after a time (and many promises we wouldn't go hard on the way back) and began to make our way home. There was the promise of a tailwind home. After all, it'd been in our faces, right?
You wish. Steve jumped on the front, and it was obvious the wind was beginning to swirl, shifting directions capriciously, but with vigor. It was actually going to be work getting back!
We formed up in a loose line, and as the animal awakened in Steve, we were forced to go more aggressively in our line. Jimmy picked up where Steve left off, actually taking the speed up to 24+ mph. This was going easy?!
Okay, if that's how it is...
My turn came next. Jimmy came off at 21. I was going to hold 21. I did, for a time, but it began to creep up.
21... 22...23...
Jimmy called he was dropping back. (What?! You started this!) Okay, I yelled, I'll take it to 20 mph. Which I did. We rode for a few more minutes at that speed, and I was quite comfortable. My thought was to go ahead and pull the group back in to Highway 40. Then I looked back. I could see Miller, maybe 50 yards back, the whole pack formed loosely behind him. He was trying to gradually bring them back to me, while I was only going 20 mph.
Folks, if you can't hang in behind a guy pulling 20 mph on the flat, you're whipped. This group was whipped, entirely so. Pace line was over.
There wasn't much descriptive beyond that point, just a gentle ride in. Well, there is one thing... I was able to snake up to the front when we forded the gravel pit, hopped on my bike, and rode in alone, crossing the finish line uncontested. ;)
View the ride data. There is a small discrepancy because I failed to restart the Garmin after a stop. I adjusted the time and distance manually, but the bulk of the data is intact. The error occurs around 43 miles or so.
As for the run, it was all Scott. We might have started with 16 runners, but we quickly broke into groups of 2, 3, and 4, except for Scott, who disappeared. Immediately. Authoritatively. I started off the back, but eventually made my way through to the Millers. I needed to talk to WinD about cross practice. My plan was to run with them for 3, then check on Steve. I wanted to be sure someone was running with him - how could we have the host of the event run alone?
So at stop 2 I start to send them on. Then Jimmy came up, grabbed a water, and started chasing them. What?! I couldn't have that. I got back on. I knew Strunk was still back there, and Rand said he'd wait.
We were running around 8-minute pace, chatting and such, until Jimmy smelled the barn. The last mile was around 7:30, and it was all I had. It was quickly completed, and that was the end of the day's training for yours truly.
View run data.
Of course there was the dip in the lake, the fellowship, but sadly I had to miss the meal and Frisbee golf. Still, I would be totally remiss if I didn't thank the Blacks for inviting us all into the home and hearth, and going to such lengths to make this annually the day to remember for the summer.
We had the promise of some pretty decent weather. The skies were clear, the air calm, the humidity low. There was no reason to expect anything but stellar results in every leg.
Speaking of low, the lake was low. Really low. It was so shallow we were scooping handfuls of bottom silt with every stroke as we neared the turn buoy. I've never seen the like this low. Fifteen brave souls entered the water, including one Allen Burris.
Greg of course dominated the swim, as if there would be any doubt. He let me hang around for the first lap or so, but after that, totally all Greg. He was out of the water and gone before I got back.
This was the first opportunity to use my Garmin open water, and it worked like a charm. I swam 2225 yards, which is 20 yards longer than 1.25 miles. Since the swim was supposed to be 1.2 miles, the path I swam was long. I suspect few people were able to swim a much better line (I know Miller didn't!), so folks, those swim times are better than you think.
Check out my data for the swim.
Steve had the ceremonial first pull, and in typical Steve fashion, laid down the law. It might have included some downhill, but also in typical Steve fashion, Steve had downplayed his fitness. He looked strong.
Jimmy got on next, and I must say, I'm more and more impressed with his riding every day. He took a very long pull, over 5 minutes, and he held pretty good speed. He tapped, and I was on.
I'd noted how long each guy pulled, and how hard. It worked out to a bit over 5 minutes, and they averaged around 24.5 on the flat. I figured the pulls would be long, so I decided to pull longer. I took it up a bit, then settled back into the 25 mph range and held it - until we had to start making turns, there was a truck in our path, etc... I wound up in front for a bit longer, but it wasn't all hard work. Then it was Miller's turn.
He'd been watching too, and he tore it up without nearly as many interruptions. He was steady, he ground it out, and he had a tough stretch of wind to fight. After a strong pull, he handed to Greg.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for with a mixture of dread and excitement. How fast would he go? How long? Would we survive it?
He did pull hard, for a short time, but he settled in to the more sedate pace we'd been holding. Ah! He was taking mercy on us!
Around this time the line started breaking up. Well, actually, the line really broke up from the start (novices were almost immediately lost), but now more veteran riders were dropping out. The crazy thing was we weren't going fast. It was simply hard riding out there because of the wind. It wasn't terribly strong, but it seemed to be in our faces where ever we were. Even at that, it wasn't aligned in a way that drafting helped a great deal. It was a quartering headwind, forcing riders to get into echelon formation to get any benefit. This type of riding really takes experience, and obviously those that haven't pace lined for very long suffered. For my part, whenever I pulled, I tried to stay in the middle of the road. This offered the greatest variety of options for those behind me.
Around this time, Merom, we had been whittled down to Steve, Jimmy, me, Miller, Greg, and Bob (in that order). Greg came off the front a bit past Merom, Steve came back on, and off he went on another long pull. This one wasn't quite as fast, for good reason - the wind was really starting to pick up. By now it was hard to hold much more than 23-24 mph for any distance.
Jimmy's second pull was every bit as good as his first. He was steady, he was almost as fast as Steve, and he pulled long. This area was flat and wide-open, which had the disadvantage of being totally exposed to the wind.
My turn came, and we were still in the flats. I felt pretty good about this one. I'm best when I can get in aero and go steady, and the area really allowed me to do that. We had a few turns, but overall I was able to pull some steady speed, reaching 28 mph heading into the infamous "Corner" (it's a whole different story). Once again, I held it for over 5 minutes before giving over to Miller.
Miller was just as good the second time, too. His second turn starting gently rolling and twisting, and he was just the man for the job. Miller could take things up to 22-24 mph and hold it there, very impressive under the conditions.
Greg took one more short pull directly into the wind, and he was out. Steve was back on, and by this time we were headed right into the wind. This pull was his shortest, maybe a couple of minutes or so, and by now the speed was dropping to 21-22. It was getting tough.
Jimmy was up, and he tried to match. He did, for a time, but his pull was shorter too. I could sense him beginning to lose it, could feel he was ready to tap, and when he did, I told him I'd just hold the pace for a little bit.
Steve had asked us to do a 30 count before pressing, which I did. After that, I slid it up to 24-25, holding it as long as I could. I wanted at least 5 minutes at the helm, and despite a couple of rollers that reminded me over and over I can't climb right now, I held on to pace nicely. I wasn't happy about how slow it seemed, but we'd gone far enough for me to see no one was able to really tear it up.
Figuring I'd slowed down too much to stay in front (I was down to 22-23 mph), I tapped. That's when I saw what was left of us - Steve, Miller, and me. Jimmy had destroyed himself with his last pull, and the others are a bit behind on their training. It was now down to us, and Miller was up.
This particular leg is noteworthy because it might be the most impressive pull of the day. Not because of its speed, because it wasn't the fastest. Not because of its length, because it wasn't the longest. No, it's the most impressive because of when it came. That last 2-3 mile stretch features the last climb, which, while not large, is the hardest climb of the entire course. It comes at precisely the worst possible time, and the run up to it was all into headwind.
Miller did it all.
Steve and I both understood we should have had it passed to us. Miller didn't. I kept shouting encouragement, I knew what he was thinking, it was a challenge, and he wanted to beat it. I started singing to him (which I'm not sure helped). He chugged all the way up that thing with no help. Pretty dang impressive.
The biggest part of us collected after a time (and many promises we wouldn't go hard on the way back) and began to make our way home. There was the promise of a tailwind home. After all, it'd been in our faces, right?
You wish. Steve jumped on the front, and it was obvious the wind was beginning to swirl, shifting directions capriciously, but with vigor. It was actually going to be work getting back!
We formed up in a loose line, and as the animal awakened in Steve, we were forced to go more aggressively in our line. Jimmy picked up where Steve left off, actually taking the speed up to 24+ mph. This was going easy?!
Okay, if that's how it is...
My turn came next. Jimmy came off at 21. I was going to hold 21. I did, for a time, but it began to creep up.
21... 22...23...
Jimmy called he was dropping back. (What?! You started this!) Okay, I yelled, I'll take it to 20 mph. Which I did. We rode for a few more minutes at that speed, and I was quite comfortable. My thought was to go ahead and pull the group back in to Highway 40. Then I looked back. I could see Miller, maybe 50 yards back, the whole pack formed loosely behind him. He was trying to gradually bring them back to me, while I was only going 20 mph.
Folks, if you can't hang in behind a guy pulling 20 mph on the flat, you're whipped. This group was whipped, entirely so. Pace line was over.
There wasn't much descriptive beyond that point, just a gentle ride in. Well, there is one thing... I was able to snake up to the front when we forded the gravel pit, hopped on my bike, and rode in alone, crossing the finish line uncontested. ;)
View the ride data. There is a small discrepancy because I failed to restart the Garmin after a stop. I adjusted the time and distance manually, but the bulk of the data is intact. The error occurs around 43 miles or so.
So at stop 2 I start to send them on. Then Jimmy came up, grabbed a water, and started chasing them. What?! I couldn't have that. I got back on. I knew Strunk was still back there, and Rand said he'd wait.
We were running around 8-minute pace, chatting and such, until Jimmy smelled the barn. The last mile was around 7:30, and it was all I had. It was quickly completed, and that was the end of the day's training for yours truly.
View run data.
No comments:
Post a Comment