JavaMon: 2:44:01 (new PR)
Dr. Ned: 3:46:56
Joe H: 3:33:53
Tri-Marni: 2:55:51
Waterbottle: 2:56:41
JavaMon (aka Arthur) has provided a race report from the Philly Triathlon as part of his training for the Lake Placid Ironman on July, 26, 2009. He's also raising money for the American Diabetes Association as a competitor in the Lake Placid Ironman. To date, he's raised over $7,000.00 For anyone who is interested in supporting JavaMon in his fund raising efforts, additional information can be found after the highlights of his odyssey:
Coffee for my breakfast, shot of whiskey on the side
It's a dark dreary morning, with clouds covering up the sky
My baby's grown cold, she's grown restless she's confessed
She says there's no one new, but deep down I know that's next
- Robert Cray, The Forecast Calls for Pain
Actually, yesterday's triathlon had great weather. It was a blast with, as usual, more than a few stories by the end of the day. But while Bluesman Robert Cray and I may be talking about different subjects (Hope and I just had our 23rd anniversary), we do have one thing in common in the we both rationally realize that, in our own respective near future, "The forecast calls for pain."It's a dark dreary morning, with clouds covering up the sky
My baby's grown cold, she's grown restless she's confessed
She says there's no one new, but deep down I know that's next
- Robert Cray, The Forecast Calls for Pain
For me the next 4 weeks will be hard ones. I will be riding and running long miles. Last week I swam 2 miles non-stop in the pool, and I've added an event; on July 12, 2009, I'm swimming 3 miles in Lake Nockamixon in an open water swimming event. So, this is no longer a drill!
But I'm still having fun. Yesterday (Sunday) was no exception. I have scored a personal record (PR) at the Philadelphia Triathlon and improved several individual thresholds in the process.
I was in home territory and surrounded by friends: Dr. Ned, with whom I ran my first marathon in 2000 in Chicago; Joe, who was on my Margaret Bugay Riders' Tour de Cure Team; and Waterbottle, who was in my swim wave. And I see Bob, from Junior High. Like last year, Bob finished first in our age group and beat my time by more than half an hour. Pretty cool.
This was my 5th Philly Tri and I knew from experience that I needed to get to the race early. You have to get body marked (all the easier to fish you out of the water afterwards) and your bike racked before race time. So, being an experienced and knowledgeable tri-athlete, I already knew this and was duly prepared.
The Sunday race (Olympic Distance) starts in the Schuylkill River on the east side at St. Joe's Boathouse on Kelly Drive, and you finish the swim on the west side on ML King Drive. The bike race picks up on MLK Drive and circles in two loops through Fairmount Park. Each loop is about 12.4 miles. To put the Ironman in perspective, to equal Lake Placid's distance, the Philly Tri bike portion would be a little over 9 loops - over hilly terrain. Nevertheless, I find the Philly course to be challenging - and fun. After racing this distance, you run a 10K on MLK Drive. A good 3 miles of the run course is in full sun, and since this is in late morning, it's nice and hot. Fortunately, I was wearing sunscreen.
Unlike the Ironman next month, the swim portion in Philly is a wave start. Here the organizers wisely breakdown the swim race by age and category into smaller portions. They start them in staggered heats. Your wave has swim cap designations by color. For example, when I signed up, I got a black bathing cap. Waterbottle, my buddy, had a florescent pink bathing cap - quite manly.
I got up at 3:30am and got my stuff together and had a modest breakfast. And, I'm told that I didn't do any of this quietly. There's a name for people like me, and it's not Ironman. All I can say is that Hope's a fairly tolerant woman to put up with this stuff, and "thanks."
I'm out the door and get the early train to the city. I even bring 2 sets of swim goggles, so I'm really prepared. And one of the benefits of doing a Philly race is that I can stop by my office beforehand to get coffee and stuff before I head out to the race to check in, so I did.
But as usual, I have some knucklehead miscues before and during the event which have taught me a few more things as I plod along toward my main entre - the Ironman.
I get to the check-in to rack my bike. I notice, but don't fully comprehend the significance, that there are a lot of bikes racked up there. And while I see a lot of people milling about, there are not as many people as there are bikes. Just then I hear the race announcer, "And the elite wave is in the water. They'll be here in minutes to start the bike. We have world-class athletes competing today. The course record is most certainly going to fall...." And I think, "Gee, they decided to start the elites pretty early this year." Guess which character I am in "Of Mice and Men"? Still no clue.
So I see a girl in a bathing suit with body markings and I casually ask what anyone would ask such a pretty girl, "So are you wearing a wetsuit for the swim?" She looks at me like I'm crazy (and not for normal reasons) and says, "Swim? I'm doing the relay. I'm not swimming. Everyone's left. They're on the other side of the river getting in the water. The last bus left 10 minutes ago. You're too late. You're out of the race."
It was only then that I realized that I'm screwed - again. Suddenly, the decision about wearing a wetsuit is irrelevant - it's left behind. And I start running around, desperately trying to bum a ride to the other side of the river. The scene is what my Dad would describe as "Zey Loifen vi Fah Sumpta Moys", which from Yiddish means, "running like poisoned mice." Very descriptive and very accurate.
I'm not body marked, and there's no way I can get to the other side before my wave starts. However, it must have been painful to watch because eventually a bus driver says, "Come on, I'll get you there." A race official says, "Go ahead, you'll get body marked on the other side."
Tony, the bus guy, has to be their top driver. You see, they bike and run courses coincide along MLK Drive. There are numerous orange road cones that separate the two courses because when the elites are running, the rest of us will be biking. So, when Tony's driving, he's weaving in and around cones and not not hitting one. There are even recreational bikers, runners and in-line skaters in the road. Even the Philly Tri can't shut down MLK Drive, which is closed to traffic on Sunday for the public's enjoyment. No casualties, it's like a sports care commercial on a closed track except I'm in a big-ass school bus, where I'm the only passenger. Sure enough, I get there safe and sound, and they're a long way off from letting my wave, the "black caps" in the water.
At the Boathouse I see my running buddies and we're joking about Waterbottle's pink cap. However, he's 48 and in my age class, 45-49. The black caps are 50-55, the last wave. Sort of a depressing statement, quite frankly. I'll have to speak with Lars (Beck - race organizer) about that. I'm sure it will be a high priority. Anyway, I switch caps and it turns out that pink is actually much more slimming. My wave gets called and I'm in the water.
For those who flinch at swimming in the Schuylkill River, for all of the stories I've heard about dead bodies, floating animals, etc found there, it's still cleaner than the NJ shorline. Politics aside, the water is nice. It's a great swim.
In the water there's the usual pre-race banter before the wave starts. It's all men, but it's hard to tell given that we're wearing goggles and swim caps. Someone yells that he was fondled by a guy wearing a pink swim cap. People get goofy when they're swimming in the Schuylkill. They should bottle the stuff.
I finish the time in record time, 25:49. I'm getting faster, that's for sure. My goal was 30 minutes!
Then off to the bike. It's a fun course. I'm going 37 mph downhill and 22-25 mph along the straights, but right before the second loop my rear derailleur gear cable snaps so I only have 2 gears, "low" and "high" on my 10-speed bike. People think I'm being aggressive on the hills by standing on the bike, but I'm just trying to get up the hills and I'm struggling.
I'm not the only one having problems. I pass a guy and I see that his bike shorts (those spandex things) are ripped and his butt is exposed - just enough to bring it to one's attention as you're traveling along at around 25 mph. I tell him, "Your pants are ripped." He says, "I know." Seconds later another biker - this one's decked out like the guy from the Comcast commercial complete with an aero-sprint bike helmet ("You look ridiculous,"......"But I'm fast....."). He's laughing and says, "Did you see that guy's butt?".....and moves on.
We're a breed - Mr. Exposed Butt and myself - and they're not getting rid of us soon. Our mantra: Don't panic. Keep going. That's a lesson to take home. And I finish with a record pace of 20.1 mph.
I'm tired as I start the run, but my spirits are raised when right before the dismount I hear a familiar voice, "Brother Paul." He's a guy from my masters swim class who's also training for the Lake Placid Ironman, except to look at him you'd never suspect that he's be doing it. He's not svelte, and that to me is an inspiration. I see that he's dropped more than a few pounds as we start the run. His nickname is self-anointed. No one else in my swim class has a nickname except for "Nick the Adonis," and that's what the guys call him. He's going to beat me bad in Lake Placid; Paul's another story.
Paul is looking good today and I'm pleased that he hasn't given up the good fight. He's raising money for MS in his father's name. His dad has been living with MS for many years. He's a good guy.
As I loop back into transition from the lower part of the running course I hear a big guy tell me that I"m going to be his pacer - foolish man. We head out to the sunny part of the course and though it's perhaps 80 degrees, I feel like I"m being baked. I remember the first time racing this course when I had to stop a few times because of that sun, but this time things are different. I'm not fresh, but I"m not wilted either. Along the way I see Bourne, a lawyer friend of mine - and fellow contributor to this fundraiser. He's in the 60-65 race group and he's doing great.
I finish the course in record run pace of 9:14 MPM. My overall time of 2:44:01 beats my last PR (2008) by 11 minutes! It's a successful day.
Notwithstanding all of this, I am sober enough to realize that running 26.2 miles - after biking 112 miles and swimming 2.4 miles - might be a tad more difficult. Hence, our theme today, The Forecast Calls for Pain. Difficult things are worth doing and this one is no exception.
I'm pretty psyched for the fun next month. I've raised over $7,000 for the American Diabetes Association, and things are on the upswing. Thanks for keeping the faith.
Best,
Arthur
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If you'd like to make a donation to Arthur's fund raising efforts you can either make a check out to the American Diabetes Foundation and mail it to Arthurs' office:
Arthur Bugay
1818 Market Street, Ste 2300
Philadelphia, PA 19103
or go on line to the Janus Charity Challenge web site (who is matching funds raised by Arthur) at:
www.januscharitychallenge.com
Look up Arthur Bugay on the athlete search and you can donate on line.
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Good luck, JavaMon! Keep up the hard work!
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