Guatape, Colombia ITU Pan American Cup

I’m here in Edmonton, the capitol of Alberta, looking over the past few weeks down south. I’m really enjoying myself this year, and the past three weeks have been no exception. After Cartagena I flew to Guatape, a small mountain town near Medellin in Colombia. The week between races felt like an eternity because there was very little to do. The town of Guatape is beautiful. One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, and I loved riding my bike through the mountains. Guatape is in the middle of a man made lake where every piece of land shoots skyward or drops straight down. Nothing is flat, and there is very little land suitable for building on. Most of the buildings were precariously hanging off the side of a cliff waiting for a mudslide to whisk them into the lake.

Each day in Guatape I would eat breakfast with Arturo Garza and the twins from Puerto Rico, Melissa and Militza Rios (yes they look the same and have names that are very similar, it took me a few days to figure it out). Sometime before lunch I would go for a bike ride and a run, and finish with an afternoon swim in the lake. Between workouts I read Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand (if you haven’t read it, you need to.), wrote emails, called friends through Google Voice, and slept more than a lazy house cat. By the time race day crept up to us I was more than ready to race and head home to my family. Still there were things I wanted to do in Guatape that aren’t wise before a race, and I was glad for a 10am start time so I could spend the afternoon being a tourist.

The race itself was not as I had hoped. I lead the swim at a pace I thought was quite strong, but there were still about 15 men in the lead group for the bike. I first tried an immediate breakaway, but on the first of six 1km climbs I was caught. Every time we reached a hill the group would string out, but as soon as we crested and descended the string would ball back up. I put in far more than my fare share of the work because I didn’t want the chase pack to catch us, as did fellow American Nick Vandam. We worked hard. Then, with about 200 meters to go on the bike two Spanish men came to the front. Now, race etiquette says that if you’ve been sitting in the back the entire ride, you stay in the back into T2. At the very least leaches should NEVER take their first pull at the very end and block the people who did all the work. I was irritated, but these two Spanish riders were not done being rude. One of them was racked next to me in transition, he cut me off going to my space and carelessly racked his bike by one brake lever. The rest of his bike fell sideways and hung in such a way as to block my transition box and the space for my bike. I had to stop, hold my bike, move his bike, rack my bike, and only then I was able to reach my shoes and get my helmet in to the box. By the time I had my shoes on I was already 10 seconds back from the lead runners. Start speed on the run is already my weak point, and starting from that far back took me out of the run race. I was running by myself, and not feeling particularly good. I probably couldn’t have hung with the two Spaniards (they ended up 1st and 2nd) on that particular day, but I certainly would have like to start with them and try.

I ended up 7th, which was better than the previous week’s 10th place, but still not the result I was looking for, considering I felt good and I like to think tough courses suit me well. I’ve made the mistake of working more than my share before, but at this race I really though the hills would be an equalizer, making everyone in the pack work. Still, I swam quite well and rode strong. My run was sub-par, but overall it was a good experience. I learned and raced hard, which is what it’s all about.

After the race I tried to rent a jet ski, but the price tag was more than I was willing to pay after finishing short of the prize money. I did make it to climb the stairs to the top of Guatape’s scenic rock. It reminded me of Diamond Head monument in Honolulu, though the view was nothing like Hawaii. I also got to try a local dish called Bandeja Piasa, which includes red beans, rice, pork, ground meat, pork rind, fried egg, fried plantain, chorizo, arepa (corn bread type of thing), hogao sauce, black pudding (glad I didn’t know that at the time), and avacado. I bought a t-shirt, walked through a cathedral, and took the colorful, three-wheeled taxicabs around town. I don’t often get to be a tourist, and I felt that I needed it. Sitting around for a week doing nothing didn’t seem to help me run faster either, so I was hoping that relaxing and having fun would lead to a better race just six days later back home in Washington State.

It did, but that will be my next blog post, which I’ll publish before I race the Edmonton World Cup this weekend. Below is an image gallery from Guatape, click on the images to see the full size.

Cartagena, Colombia – ITU Pan American Cup


I’ve been racing pretty well so far this spring, so I decided to throw my name into a few ITU Pan-American Cup races in June. My world ranking in the ITU has plummeted this year, due mainly to a lack of ITU racing on my part, from 60 to 110. It turns out you can’t hold a ranking if you don’t race, and without a high enough ranking you can’t get into big races, no matter how many people think you should be there. So I flew south to Colombia (when it’s spelled with two ‘O’s it refers to the country, rather than the school, town, or production studio) for back-to-back Pan-American Cup races. Looking at the start lists for these races is quite a bit less intimidating than a race like Saint Anthony’s or a World Cup, but there are enough people in the ranking battle that neither race is without some solid talent.

The first race was in Cartagena, a coastal port city with a wall around the inner city. The bike course went around and through a fort and through a section of the city that looked very similar to the French Quarter of New Orleans. It was a cool course and previewing it the day before the race I was really excited for a bike course that offered more than an out and back on crummy roads. The only daunting problem was the heat. I haven’t done any real specific heat training this year. I had decided at the beginning of the year to avoid races with extreme heat and focus on courses that suit me well. It wasn’t until the day before the race that I realized this would be one of the hottest races I’ve ever taken part in. The temperature was around 90 degrees, but the humidity of 70% raised the heat index to 112. Coming from 10% humidity in Colorado, my body was in shock. The water temperature didn’t help either. On Saturday I ran 3km to the race from my hotel so I could preview the swim course. By the time I got there I was drenched in sweat and downing every water source in sight. The ocean, to my surprise, was so warm that I could barely manage a 20-minute loosen-up, and I needed a few bags of water before I was ready to jog home. Still, I figured that with good fitness I would be able to manage the heat just as well as anyone else when it came to the race.

Race day was even hotter. When I stepped out of my air-conditioned hotel room it was like walking into an oven. I brought an extra bottle of ice water to drizzle over my head while I set up for the race. Before the start another athlete came to me and said, “good luck, but I don’t know that we can call this a race. It’s going to be survival.” The swim was so warm that I was content to sit in the pack and follow feet. When I started the bike I was already so hot that I skipped pulls in an attempt to regain composure. By the time the bike was half way over I had goose bumps on my legs. I had planned to attack with another athlete, but each lap we found each other and said, “Maybe next lap”. The pack rode just fast enough that nobody wanted to go it alone, but so slow that nobody was really “pulling”. With a half lap to go I finally decided to go for it. I got 25 seconds into T2, but 1km into the run I was gassed. My HR was at max, my pace was slowing rapidly, and I could barely breath the thick air. I turned my thoughts to the next aide station and focused on staying cool, too stubborn to walk, let alone drop out. I ran the slowest 10km run of my career in 39 minutes, and then collapsed into the care of two Colombian nurses who poured ice water over me and kept a constant supply of cold fluids coming my way. I was 10th. I’m not real happy with the finish, but it’s hard to blame fitness. If I had planned this race further in advance I would have been running in sweats in the middle of the day, but I had no idea that I would be faced with that kind of heat. Even my sunscreen couldn’t hold up to the weather. My back is blistered with sharp red lines around the edges of my race suit. In short, Cartagena was a bad choice for me.

Other than the race, I thought Cartagena was a cool city. The old town is a place I could have wondered through for a day, if I had the chance. Where I was staying was a younger, more beach oriented area. It was littered with expensive fast food and not many healthy restaurant options, so if I ever go back I know to stay in the older part of the city. I will say the race was well organized and they were prepared with plenty of water stations on the run (in 10km there were 20 chances to get water). I only wish there were protocol for extra water on the bike, or at least a course with some shade. An 11:45am start in weather like that is not safe for anyone.

Next up is another Colombian race, but I’m heading up into the mountains near Medellin. The town is called Guatape, and it’s nothing like Cartagena.

5150 New Orleans

Today I raced the 5150 New Orleans… duathlon. The swim was cancelled due to high winds. Apparently they couldn’t even get the buoys to stay anchored. I was bummed, but what can you do? I flew all the way here, I’m fit, so I just warmed up like I had been planning to do a Duathlon all along. The new format was 2mi / 40km / 10km; run / bike / run. I took off and ran with Kris Gemmell for the first 2 miles. I was pretty ecstatic to be running with such a great athlete, and even more stoked to see everyone else falling off the pace while I was wondering if we were going hard enough. After (what is becoming my normal) fumbling through T1 I got on the bike, caught Gemmell (he passed me out of transition while I was fumbling) took the lead and never looked back. It was the windiest race I’ve ever done, and really hard. I had a giant lead going into T2, but that was completely unknown to me. I just kept running. At 5k I had over a minute on Gemmell and the rest of the boys, which was great because the last couple miles hurt like no other race format. Duathlons are hard! I won with a pretty big margin.

I’m really happy with where my fitness is right now. I haven’t done anything special in training, I’m just working hard. I haven’t rested for a race yet, but I’m learning just how much work I can do and still perform well (I put in 24 hours this week in 5 days before the race, and did a hard track workout Thursday.) I feel like I’m finally making progress toward being an all-around triathlete, and being able to run away from a strong field at a duathlon certainly helps reinforce that. I wish we could have swum, I think there were some talented guys that didn’t get to show their strength today because of the course change. Still, being able to win under any circumstance is the type of athlete I want to become.

A huge thanks to K-Swiss, Garmin, Powerbar, Rudy Project, and Blue Seventy (even if I didn’t get to use my swim skin today) for helping me get there, along with all of your support, my family, my friends, and everyone that tells me to kick butt before my races. You all are awesome!

Here’s my reward for the day: a graph with myself as the zero axis!!

Spring Photo Recap

Springtime Food

I just signed up for two more races in May: 5150 New Orleans on May 15th and the Capitol of Texas Triathlon (CapTex) on May 30th. It’s going to be an awesome month! Training is going very well, the weather is getting nicer, I don’t seem to be allergic to anything in Colorado (a clear nose in May is a delightful change of pace from Washington), and I don’t have to travel over an ocean any time soon. Life is good!

 

 

Here’s some photographs of the past couple months. (Just click on the image to see a bigger, uncropped version.) It’s been a nice Spring so far.

Saint Anthony’s Triahtlon


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This Map with Route Data was created using a Garmin Forerunner and TrainingPeaks.com, and exported into Google Maps. You can zoom and pan and view the course in great detail.

Sunday I raced the Saint Anthony’s Triahtlon. It’s one of the oldest, most historical professional triathlon races in the world with 28 years behind it. The race was run as well as any race I’ve been to, and this is certainly going to remain part of my calendar in years to come. The start list was intimidating, to say the least, but I went into Sunday’s effort with very little stress, and a insatiable hunger to prove that what I did in South Beach and Ishigaki were not indicative of my fitness and athleticism. I was looking at Olympic medalists, 3-time Olympians, World Championship Series medalists, and instead of being scared I was just excited to see if I could give them a solid race. And I did! I was 5th, behind Filip Ospaly (2010 lifetime Fitness Series winner), Matt Reed, Cameron Dye, and Stewart Hayes. I worked my butt off for it, and I had the best race I could have on the day.

The swim was the only major disappointment of the day. Saint Anthony’s Triahtlon has had some trouble in recent years with the choppiness of the swim course, so when the winds were blowing on race morning they played it safe and moved the swim to a more protected area. This also shortened the course to about an 800 meters swim. You can see in the map I posted the line I took. It was supposed to be a trapezoidal course, but at the end I swam straight in and ran up the beach. The run to T1 was probably longer than the swim itself, and the entry was very shallow and not great for short legged guys like me. I lost a lot of time going to the first buoy and was 7th out of the water with a gap in front of me that Cameron Dye capitalized on in making a break for it early.

The bike was flat and scenic, taking us through the neighborhoods of St. Petersburg, Florida. The roads were smooth, clean, and closed to traffic with plenty of police keeping us safe. I rode hard trying to get away from a large group of riders including Potts, Gimmel, Docherty, Reed, Ospaly, Hayes, and a few other intimidating names. It didn’t work, and I only ended up with about 15 seconds on those guys at T2. I started the run with Matt Reed with a 90 second deficit to Cameron Dye. Reed dropped me from his heels heels toward the end of the first mile. Ospaly came by me soon after that and caught up to Reed. The two of them eventually caught and passed Dye and Ospaly took Reed in the final stretch. While I was suffering in the middle third Stuart Hayes came by with a definitive surge. In the last third of the run I came back to life a bit and tried to close in on Hayes. He was hurting as much as I was, but he kept the gap he’d created taking fourth, while I held off a menacing Potts, Gimmel, Matthews (a.k.a. Barny) and Docherty who were all right behind me. It was a fast hard race, and the most fun I’ve had racing all year.

Now, here’s the graph (click on it for a larger view):


The horizontal axis is timing the point. The 20k bike split is an estimate, there was no timing chip, but since there were two timing points on the run I wanted the bike portion to have at least as much horizontal space as the run. The vertical axis is the time gap from the winner, Filip Ospaly. Negative values indicate a lead over Ospaly, positive values indicate a deficit. An intersection point between two lines indicates the estimated point when those two competitors changed positions.

Boredom is Better Than Stress

Since I’ve arrived in Japan there hasn’t been much going on. I sleep a lot. I eat when I should. I train as much as I need to. The rest of the time I’ve just been sitting around, chatting with people, refreshing my inbox to see if the ITU has finally made their decision of whether or not to hold the Yokohama World Championship race in four weeks, or if USA Triathlon has decided yet if they’ll be sending me to the Monterrey World Cup in just three. It’s low stress to the extreme, which is a really nice change of pace from filling out insurance claims, maxing out credit cards, and the other chores of post-theft reestablishment of stuff.

My favorite part of being in Ishigaki is definitely the cycling. The people are quite friendly, and the traffic is light. The roads are pristine and the scenery is endlessly engrossing. My first ride on Wednesday reminded me that I had intended to stay an extra day this year so that I could be a tourist. I’ve been about a third of the way around the island, and I really want to see the rest of it, but I let my budget decide my return date so the tourism will have to wait until next year.

There has been a bit of translational humor, which can almost be expected in a place like Japan where the alphabet and language is so different from English. Like when Steve Sexton and I asked the front desk where we could find a simple meal for relatively little cash they handed us their “English” map of the town and pointed to a place called “Banira Deri”. I told Steve that it was probably a deli (with an ‘L’), which he laughed at and I expected to be true. Unfortunately, most of the landmarks on the English map did not have English signs, so it was hard to identify whether places like “Banana Café” we were supposed to pass were really there. When we did arrive to the street where the “Banira Deri” was supposed to be we found two restaurants – both looked appealing – but neither with the sign we were looking for. The first one had a sign in English, but since it didn’t match our map we assumed it was the second store. It was after browsing both menus that I looked up at the first sign and realized that “Banira Deri” was a double translation of “Vanilla Deli” (first to Japanese characters, then back to English). The food was great.

We swim in a 50m pool at the Ishigaki Sports complex, which also boasts a huge gym, a baseball field and a track and field center. The only thing missing is a velodrome. This is where I did all of my swimming the past few days and most of my running. I’m sure there are plenty of dirt paths on this island, but I haven’t found them, so I just lingered around the track to enjoy the grass and soft surface.

Aside from the food – which has been low protein, high-carb with a very un-western palate – and the training, I’ve been a pretty lame tourist. I figured out how to watch Netflix’s live stream by using a proxy server back home (it won’t stream to IPs outside the US), which has provided some entertainment. I haven’t figured out how to get USAT’s Normatec to work without the voltage converter (they bought a 220 volt Norma, so places like Japan and the United States require us to use a voltage converter to step it up from 110 volts) that was left at home thinking it wouldn’t be needed in Australia last week.

As far as the race goes, I’m excited. We came a long way for this, so I’m not leaving anything on the course. Besides, I have some pent up energy from my anticlimactic participatory experience last weekend at South Beach. I’ll take luck, but all I really need to do (in the crass words of Rory) is “not [mess] up.”

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Five Flights to Ishigaki

The trip from Miami to Ishigaki was long, and not without its memorable moments. First, while checking in with United in Miami, I had airport security called to escort me away from the check-in counter. Having not raised my voice, and been guilty only of politely asking to have my bags checked through to Ishigaki (to avoid reclaiming in Tokyo) I stood my ground, called the ticket counter guy’s bluff and never saw security (“wait, you’re going to call security on a customer who flew 75,000 miles with your airline last year because I’m inconveniencing you to check my bags through to my final destination?”). Next, in LA I switched from United to ANA for my flight to Tokyo, and was really excited when I was paged to the counter, thinking that I was being upgraded to business class. Wrong, they were calling me up to inform me that United had delivered my luggage to them open and that they had taped it closed. They just wanted me to know that it was United and not ANA who would be responsible for anything missing. That meant I had a twelve-hour flight to Tokyo, and another two flights and seven hours to Ishigaki before I would know whether my bike was completely with me. Luckily, the gods of seat selection were with me throughout the trip, so on the five flights I was seated in an exit row (Miami to Denver – I watched Tron Legacy, which was not very good), first class (Denver to LA), a row of three to myself (for 12 hours from LA to Tokyo – the flight was less than a third full so everyone had a row to lay down in), business class with fully reclining seats (Tokyo to Okinawa – they upgraded the plane from a 767 to a 777 then apologized that they needed to move people from their previously assigned seats – the upgrade didn’t come with service, but the extra 3 hour nap was nice), and then an aisle seat with nobody next to me for the final 40 minute segment into Ishigaki – where I found my bike case fully intact with everything inside it – feeewwww!! In total it took me 31 hours from hugging my mom goodbye at the Miami airport to stepping into the Hotel Lobby in Ishigaki. I slept for at least 14 of hours of that time.

Nautica South Beach Triathlon 2011

Well, that was definitely not what I had hoped for. I showed up at this year’s Nautica South Beach Triathlon thinking I was there to race, but discovered at the beginning of the bike that I was purely there for participation.

After a very pleasant swim in Cameron Dye’s draft I ran through transition to my bike, dropped it, picked it up and ran to the mount line, dropped a shoe (first time in my career), picked it up, finally started riding, but rather slowly. Brian Fleischmann caught as I was starting to ride, but I couldn’t hang with him even for a minute. My legs ached with the effort to stay in contact with the guys that kept coming by me. It made no sense. I started cursing my new bike, then cursing myself, thinking I must have done something stupid during the week to make my body weak. I released the rear brake, but it made no difference. I looked at the front brake but thought for sure I could see space between the pads and the rim. Eventually even the slowest swimmers passed me, and at the turnaround my gap to the leaders had grown to almost 3 minutes. I wasn’t really sure what to do, I mean, there’s a world cup coming up in a week, so killing myself for a poor place is a bad idea, dropping out is shameful without a legitimate health risk, but clearly something must have been wrong with me? I’ve never been dropped like that on the bike. I just kept riding as hard as I could, but when Sarah Haskins caught me, I started getting the feeling that coming back to Miami after my previous experience (bike and gear being stolen) was like a degenerate gambler frequenting Vegas.

Starting the run I dallied a short time to wait for Sarah to catch up, then decided her pace was probably good enough to call it a tempo run in preparation for the Ishigaki World Cup. It was fun running with her, but I started getting the feeling that I was in her way. I wasn’t really thinking about my own race anymore, so I was giving verbal encouragement to her. She kept talking back to me, asking about which side of the course to be on, whether we were supposed to take the shortest line or go around the cones, why there were so many people walking in front of us… that sort of thing. It didn’t seem like a very good idea to have Sarah talking, and I would have felt terrible if she ran slower because of it, so I picked up the pace and ran on my own for the last four miles. At the turnaround I saw that Cam had about a minute on Potts, who had a good lead over the rest of the field. A tinge of jealousy hit me as I wondered why I wasn’t with them this time, but it was far too late to fix anything. My mind was already focused on how I could best prepare for my travel to Japan.

I have no idea where I finished. And I got out of there as quickly as possible. I wanted to check out my bike and find out if the problem was me or something mechanical with the bike. I spun the back wheel hoping that it would be stuck. No. It spun easily with the free-hub clicking away on my 404 (I must have been the only person without a disc wheel in the pro field). Disappointed I tried to spin the front wheel. It wouldn’t budge. It was stuck like a fly in honey. It was a relief to know it wasn’t my fitness, but extremely frustrating to know that I screwed up a race with something completely preventable. I guess that’s what I get for using completely new equipment for a race. This won’t happen again.

Miami International 5150 Triathlon Race Report

Well, the post-race stress has been slightly alleviated this week. I just got two new bikes from BH to replace the road bike I cracked at World Championships last year and the time trial bike that was stolen the day after Miami International three weeks ago. I’m finally calm enough to write a proper race report for the Miami International Triathlon, which is timely since I’m back in Miami now for another race.

The Miami International Triathlon was first race in the World Triathlon Corporation’s new 5150 race series. The series was oddly named 5150 because an Olympic distance triathlon is 5,150 decameters total (150 decameter swim, 4000 decameter bike, and 1000 decameter run) – why a more conventional unit was not used the world may never know. The important thing to know about the series is that the finale is Des Moines’ Hy-Vee Triathlon with a total prize purse of over 1 million dollars. This price tag at the finish line attracts much more talent to the qualifying races than a modest $25,000 prize purse normally would. Smart WTC, very smart.

Well, onto the race report, I’ve delayed enough.

The race started in Downtown Miami right at dawn. The swim started fast with Eric Limkemann immediately breaking away from the other strong swimmers (Cam Dye, Kyle Leto, Brian Fleishmann, and myself). Unfortunately, Eric made the mistake of following the lead kayak and went off course toward the end, allowing the rest of us to retake the lead. Out of the water was a long string of guys, but I didn’t turn around to see who was present. Matt Chrabot and one other guy ran by me about half way through the 5 decameter run to our bikes (for some reason we had to run the long way around this big fountain which added about two decameters to the first transition). I must have been the only one who wasn’t wearing a swim skin, however, because I passed everyone in front of me in T1 as they were undressing.

Eric mounted his bike right next to me, but as soon as I got my feet in the shoes I took off at my own pace. It was about 500 or 600 decameters into the bike ride that Cam Dye and Kyle Leto came by me. It was a relief, it’s much easier to pace with other people around, and I know from experience that Cam sets a pace that’s pretty much perfect for me. I took over the lead again whenever I was able (there’s a balance between mental toughness of setting the pace and the stress of having to be alert enough to keep switching sides of the road for the stagger rule). At the first turn around in Miami Beach (1000 decameters) I found myself with a rather large group including Bevan Docherty, Matt Chrabot, Cam, Kyle, and maybe one or two others. Kyle must have seen the same thing because he started pushing the pace really hard. By 20km in he was a solid 40 seconds up the road from us, and Cam and I had stretched out the pack to legitimate non-drafting spacing (USA Triathlon’s stagger rule basically allows for drafting when enough people are riding close together).

Kyle blew a fuse around the 2000 decameter mark (I later found out that his only bottle fell off on a pot-hole) and came back to Cam and I. Then at about 3700 decameters Chris Lieto caught up to Cam, Kyle and myself and took over the lead of the race. I let Cam and Chris fly into T2 together as I prepped my legs for the run. I had been cramping all morning and was a little worried about the run. Kyle and I cruised in together about 15 seconds back from Chris and Cameron. I threw on my K-Swiss and a visor then darted off after them. The only hitch in my T2 was my makeshift number belt. I had forgotten my nice stretchy Blue Seventy number belt, and had crafted one from the drawstring of a pair of running shorts and two paper clips. This worked like a charm while I was getting ready the night before, but was not so good in the heat of T2. I fumbled for a bit trying to clasp the paper clips together before I was able to put my nose forward and charge after the two C’s.

I was right about my legs on the run. They felt awful for the first mile or so, though they never really feel “great” after a hard ride. I stayed even spaced behind Chris and Cam until the first turn around at about 75 decameters. That’s where I saw Chrabot and Bevan charging like madmen and realized I didn’t have time to “get into” the run, I had to just go. I caught Cam and Chris 160 decameters into the run, and stayed with them for a while, changing leaders and using each other to draft. At the second turn around, a little under 300 decameters in there was a coning blunder and a course volunteer was yelling at us to be somewhere other than where we were. Chrabot was running the other way and we both repositioned to the same spot, then collided chest to chest at a combined velocity of about 4000 decameters per hour. It hurt, but we both went right back to running. Soon after that I took over the lead and held it from about 300 decameters until just past the 500 decameter mark. That’s when Chrabot came by me. I tried to match his cadence and my legs revolted with another cramp. Oh well, I was pretty sure I could push the pace a little harder and hang onto second.

At the last turnaround, with about 150 decameters to go I saw Bevan charging past Chris and Cam and closing in quickly. I thought I had enough to hold him off and I focused on running as fast as I could. Unfortunately, I hit a solid wall at 50 decameters to go and Bevan was in the perfect position to take advantage of it. I couldn’t match the pace he came by me with, so I looked behind me for the first time during the race, saw I had a decent amount of real estate and held my pace through the finish chute for a third place finish.

Cam was close behind me, with Chris even closer behind him. It was a tough race with a very strong field. A podium here is definitely something of which to be proud. I made a few mistakes, but I’ll be able to fix those easily (more salt, less jerry rigging). A thanks goes out to Miami for hosting a great race, and treating me like family. But not the people who stole my bike the next day. Jerks.

UPDATE: I added a graph for the race. It’s nice to have a visual of how things ended up in the top 10, and it’s much easier to read a non-drafting race graph than an ITU graph. Again, the Zero line is Matt Charbot, below the zero line represents a lead over Matt at that timing point, above the zero line represents a deficit to Matt.

Clermont – Another Graph

I thought the Maloolaba graph was cool enough that I went back to Clermont – which was a stereotypically boring race with no separation in the swim and one giant pack on the bike – and made a graph. Next to Maloolaba it’s obvious why I like courses that challenge the athletes on the swim and bike. This graph shows the classic “runners race” that is the triathlon equivalent of a flat sprint stage in cycling.