Race Result

Racer:	Brad Payne
Race:	Reston Triathlon
Date:	Sunday, September 7, 2003
Location:	Reston, VA
Race Type:	Triathlon - International Distance
Age Group:	Male 35 - 39
Time:	2:57:37
Overall Place:	313 / 420
Age Group Place:	43 / 53

Race Report:

*Warning: I just get carried away, only Iron endurance readers will reach the end. Perhaps my induction to the RATS/CATS rivalry will amuse you along the way*

Objective: To finish
Yeah, really!
And if I could finish, do it in less than 3 hours.

Pre-Race: I woke up at 4, and I would like to say I was excited. Honestly I was more afraid of having to be pulled out of the water by friendly kayakers since, when my schedule started getting full, it was the swims that usually got dropped. It was my first International tri so I had those jitters too. And if
I had one scary moment on Sunday, it was just how invisible some bikers were as they left South Lakes HS to go the lake...perhaps some of you guys should be wearing lights or reflective gear!

I got a decent rack assignment, and decided it was just nippy enough for me to wear my new RATS jersey. Of course, I got immediate taunting from the guy next to me. "RAT, I am CAT," and started talking smack as he pointed to his silly little tail on the back of his bike seat. He had a European accent that made
him even sound as cartoonish as the animal analogies he was spouting. The main reason I had hesitated in wearing my jersey was that I didn't want to embarrass the fast RATs as I knew I would probably be one of the last RATS to cross the line. I was unprepared for this sort of thing and lamely congratulated him for being seeded with a slow, fat rat.

Swim: I had rented a wet suit from our fine friends at TriSpeed so that was yet another concern in addition to my swimming conditioning...unfamiliarity with the equipment. Although I did lose nine pounds training for Reston, the suit felt too snug. It fit great at the store, but breathing wasn't as easy as it should
be. And just before the first wave was leaving, the call of nature I would have greatly preferred answering back at my house finally came. So I had to leave the start area, peel off the suit, and then rush back and hastily put it back together. So with the doubts about my conditioning, being able to breathe, and
now being flustered about rushing to be ready for the third wave--lots of negative energy. This race was going to require my mind as much as my body.

The start wasn't nearly as rough as I thought it would be. I was in the back, right side and headed straight to the point. In fact, I cut it so close, I could have run aground! In my first two triathlons I got way too excited and came out of the water completely spent. So this time I made a concerted effort
to keep myself under control. I normally don't swim with a heart rate monitor, but I made an exception today. And after I finally got into my own little space, I couldn't believe it, I could actually hear that thing chirping! I paused and lifted my wrist...157...whoa...need to ease up. So I did some breastroke and got my bearings. That's when the demons that haunted me on the shore came back. The "Inner Wussy" started whining, "Where's the turn around? This is too far...you're not in good enough shape...you can't see the turn because of all the mist rising off the water!" Just like the angel and devil from "Animal House," the other voice chimed in, "Oh shut up...its just a mile,
now put your face back in the water and GO!" Funny, that voice sounds like a combination of my father and a drill sergeant.

So for the next half hour, that was the drill. Swim until the HRM started chirping, switch to breastroke, and get my bearings. Eventually I was swimming right along the rope so I didn't need to stop for bearings, just catch my breath. I even did some backstroke for a while since that was my best stroke as
a kid, and it had the bonus of letting me breathe full time. This probably drove the guy next to me crazy. As a former sprinter, my freestyle was much faster than his, but he had a steady pace and didn't stop. I'd leave him, and then he'd bump into me while I was doing a slower stroke. After a while I
actually began to believe I was going to make it. The Inner Wussy wasn't nearly as loud, but he didn't like the addition of the sun blinding us on the way back. Between the sun and the mist, I couldn't see the shore until I was practically there. It was good timing because I discovered a new problem with
wet suits that I had never read about before--for every stroke I took, it seemed to hike the lower body up towards my upper body. Now, our female readers would not find this nearly as uncomfortable as our male readers, but the pressure "down there" was pretty unbearable by the time I giddily ran up the dock.
Done! And it took about 34 minutes! Not great, but then again, not bad!

T1: Earlier today Tom mentioned that he always feels a little spaced out at T1. I can relate! I somehow find ways to stay there for nearly five minutes. I can't blame the wet suit, if anything, the swim cap was harder to remove! I simply had trouble packing my stuff up. And my glasses kept fogging so I
got flustered and threw them in my overstuffed bag and prayed that no bugs hit me in the face over the next 22.5 miles.

Bike: I've always heard that coming out of the water and immediately facing Glade, for lack of a better word, sucks. Having now done it, I agree. I was in the little chain gears as I started to dry off and get moving. As I approached Soapstone, my buddy from CATs buzzed by me, "Rat, you are being passed by Cat." Well, at least I beat him out of the water. In fact, I hope
he was the poor sap that kept bumping into me. He was annoying, but I have to admit, funny--and when you feel like hell, a little smile helps.

I told myself to drink a lot of fluids, but when I got home after the race I was horrified to find out that I only drank half my Gatorade bottle and only 1/4 of my water bottle. Having learned that, I'm amazed I finished. I discovered that I averaged only 18.2 mph on the course, which puzzled me. I felt like I spent the majority of the time in the low 20s even some 30s. But I guess those uphill portions on Glade and Lawyers must have sapped my average. I was digging South Lakes big time. Only you studs with low double-digit numbers would pass me and my Kestrel on that stretch. This was the first race in which I actually got to "race" other bikers. In my first tri, I got passed by almost the entire field after an over-enthusiastic swim. My second tri started in a time trial fashion so I only saw three or four bikes the entire loop. This time I was passing and getting passed. I actually had to worry about the rules. The
southern leg of this course hurt an awful lot, but overall I had a blast out there. Finished in 1:14.

T2: I had a great spot right off the road, but I sure was tired. Need to invest in speed laces. I had a little trouble getting my shoes tied. I practice my transistions, I really do! But
I'm never as tired when I practice as I am on race day.

Run: I sort of knew some of the people I rode into T2 from Sunday runs with Reston Runners. I knew that they were about to bury me. So in 30 seconds, I was all by myself. I was hurting but was determined to finish in less than three hours. I knew I could do it as long as I didn't blow up. I looked over my left shoulder onto the track and could see the winners crossing the finish line--that was humbling.

I've always hated running on the Reston trails since I normally get lost, but since the trail was marked, and it was SHADED, I was having a nice little jog. That's what I had been reduced to, my Sunday long run pace of 10:00 miles. A couple of hills looked like they might cause me to blow up so I rationalized that it was time for a nutrition break and enjoyed some gel and Gatorade as I walked up. However, I had to keep moving. My boss's boss was out there on his way in, and I'll be damned if he was going to see me walking. He was easy to pick out, tall, skinny, looked like death as he plugged along at 7:00 pace. It was a tough couple of miles, and I started to feel much better as I
approached the turn around.

Then I heard that accent taunting me again, "Rat, you are beaten by Cat." He almost sounded like Schwarzenegger. Yeah, he was on his way back. I'm not a poor loser, but in my oxygen-deprived mania, I fantasized clotheslining the guy, and using the Arnold accent myself, "Cat, you have been flattened by dirty Rat." It gave me a private chuckle.

After the turn around I realized why I had been feeling so much better, I had been running downhill! The gradual rise was taxing, but my body had now equilibrated to the 10:00 pace and no longer needed to stop. Now I was truly alone except for the back of the packers still trudging out to the turn around.
At this point I was realizing I was getting close to South Lakes and my goal of three hours was quite attainable. Then I realized that since I was in the third wave, the overhead clock at the finish line might not necessarily read 2:xx:xx when I got there. That annoyed me so I got a second wind. I got a third wind
when I finally acquired some company. Two very loud, stompy breathers came charging up from behind. They passed me but immediately slowed down. Anyone who has ridden with me on I-66 knows I hate being crowded so I started to use the Dark Side of the Force. I converted negative energy, annoyance, into
positive energy, speed. As we got to Steve's "evil" hill I left them. I could see finish line, and as a former track guy, I was ready to show off. I did look over my shoulder while I was in the back curve and had already put the stompy puffers 150 yards in the dust. That provided some consolation since 312
people had dusted me.

Final Time: 2:57:37 Woo hoo!

International is a tough race, but after all has been said and done, I like it.

"Cat, I'll be back."

(Sorry for the ultra long report, but Steve sounded like he needed something to
pass the time;-)