Just to Be Clear

Things I hate:

• Sunburns
• Blowing 60 bags of insulation into the attic on a hot summer day
• That infernal plastic packaging that one must mutilate to enter at the risk of dismembering oneself

Things I don't hate:

• Triathletes
• Duathletes
• Cyclists
• Iowans

Let me clear things up a bit.  On my Holly Tri Race Report, someone left an anonymous comment that went like this:

it looks like you need a tag for "hating on everyone who is not a *pure* runner from Michigan or Minnesota". So far, you can apply it to not liking triathletes, duathletes, cyclists, and Iowans! :-)

I get it.  It doesn't take much of a spine to leave an anonymous drive-by comment on a blog, particularly if you craft a smiley at the end to assuage any shame you may feel for the harsh tone.  But really, it doesn't bother me.  What bothers me is that people are getting the impression that I "hate" anyone.  Thus, let me make these points clear:

1. I like Iowans.  As far as scenery goes, however, the state is lacking.  Can you maybe put up a few more billboards?  Another truck stop?  A giant ball of twine?
2. I dislike it when someone is discourteous towards me.
• Corollary: In this case, discourteous would mean not alerting someone that you are passing them (this includes triathletes, cyclists, duathletes, runners, beavers, and old ladies on Hoverounds).  
3. I find it rude when I speak to you and you ignore me.  I don't expect much in the way of a response, but treating me like I don't exist is bothersome.

 On this blog, I offer my observations and opinions on training.  I'm always willing to discuss something, and I freely admit that I'm not always right (in fact, I'm probably right less than 50% of the time).  But if you want to accuse me of "hating" someone, then have the gumption to sign your name.

Training in Michigan

When I moved to Minnesota, I didn't really have running on my mind.  But I lucked out when it came to where I lived in comparison to the top running locations.  Here's a list of things that were within running distance of my apartment in Minnesota:

• Summit Avenue
• The Mississippi River
• Fort Snelling State Park
• The Lakes (Isles, Calhoun, Cedar, Harriet, and Nokomis)
• Minnehaha Parkway
• Minnehaha Park
• Stone Arch Bridge
• Fantastic neighborhoods
• A bunch of different universities and colleges

Running was ideal in Minnesota.  Not so much in Michigan.  Here are my options where I'm living now.

• East on Metro Parkway, a high speed street with a "bike path" and few trees.
• West on Metro Parkway, a high speed street with a "bike path" and few trees.
• Into a subdivision the shape of a trapezoid with a height of 1 mile and a base of 1 mile.

So I haven't run much.  I got sick of running on Metro Parkway after about a week, then ventured into the neighborhood, and got tired of running there because there's only one street that goes all the way through.  

I tried to change things up a bit by going to Stoney Creek Metropark on Saturday, and that was fun.  I had only been there once before for a cross country meet, and had forgotten how massive Stoney Creek actually is.  I'm pretty sure there were more bicycles in the park than cars, and even on a hot and humid Saturday morning, the path was filled with runners and walkers.  It was a bit too crowded for me, but I decided to save finding the hiking trails for another day.

And really, this is the toughest part.  I want to run.  But I hate having to drive somewhere to go running. So I don't run.  I'm moving to a new apartment in September that's in the heart of Rochester, and since it's very close to the Paint Creek and Clinton River trails, things should improve a bit.  But it really bothers me that after having such a good year in 2010 that I'm back to square one in the year that I had hoped would bring me to the next level.

Sorry for two rant-like posts in a row.  My next post will be a bit more upbeat—a race report!

A Cycling Problem

Yes, it's been a while.  New job.  New state.  New everything.  I'll be easing back into blogging.

---

A few days before I left Minnesota, a dear member of my family was severely injured.  You may remember Roy from a previous race report.  He was the undisputed star of the race.  But sadly, my trusty bicycle quickly became unrideable.

Diagnosis: broken rear axle and broken spoke.  Remedy: new wheel.

Roy has served me well over the years, but the cost of fixing him is likely greater than his value.  So he has sat in my folks' garage since I moved to Michigan while I've tried to figure out what to do.

Since Roy can't read, I'll admit this here: I'd like a new bicycle.  Even though I rode Roy every day to my first job.  Even though he loved his first car ride when I took him to Valpo.  And even though the best times of his life were spent riding up and down the Mississippi River in St. Paul, it's time for me to move on.  But I can't.

I'm hesitating not because of some unreasonable emotional attachment to a 14 year old bicycle, but rather because there's nothing out there I'd actually like to buy.  Consider my needs and wants for a new bicycle.

• It should be meant for on-road use.  The only time I go off-road is when I have an uncontrollable veer.
• It should be light.  (Roy's a bit overweight.)
• It should have low rolling resistance tires.  (Roy has those, but that's only because his tires are worn down to the flat.)
• It's gearing should be capable of handling rolling hills.

So I went shopping.  I looked at a few bikes in Minnesota before I left, and recently I went to a great local bike shop in Michigan (Fraser Bicycle if you're curious).  I looked at some road bikes and discovered that while they are meant for on-road use, light, have smooth tires, and can handle moderate hills, they're also practically unrideable because it seems as though the gear shifters were designed by some engineering school dropout who had the sway to infect every single road bike.  Let me explain by comparing 3 systems.

Roy's Grip Shift System

• On the left handlebar is a rotating collar for the front gears.  Twist it to the gear you want.
• On the right handlebar is a rotating collar for the back gears.  Twist it to the gear you want.

Whack-job Shifting System #1 (Sram)

• Behind the left brake lever (?!) is a flappy paddle for the front gears.  To shift to an easier gear, push the paddle halfway, being careful not to push it more than halfway since you'll go to a harder gear.  To shift to a harder gear, push the paddle all the way, and nothing will happen.  Push it all the way again, then it will shift.
• Behind the right brake lever is a flappy paddle for the rear gears.  To shift to an easier gear push the paddle all the way, being careful not to push it halfway since you'll go to a harder gear.  To shift to a harder gear, push the paddle halfway, but not all the way, then it will shift.
• The ways you push the paddles may be different because there's no intuitive way to remember how to shift.  So you may need to reverse my directions all the way, being careful not to reverse them halfway or you'll end up in Paducah.

Whack-job Shifting System #2 (Shimano)

• Push the left brake lever inward to go to an easier gear (or harder, I can't quite remember).  Push a flimsy switch on top of the brake lever to go to a harder gear.
• The right side behaves exactly the same.
• Just kidding.
• It's exactly the opposite, which is why it's so stupid.
• Here's how you shift on the right side: push the brake lever to go to a harder gear.  Push the flimsy switch to go to an easier gear.
• Remember, nothing will happen on the first press of either the brake lever or the flimsy switch.  You must push them at least twice to make anything happen.

One would think that bike would have advanced since 1998.  But they've regressed.  It's like the 1885 Benz Patent Motorwagen which required the operator to have 3 arms and 1 leg.  We've advanced past that age with cars, but not bicycles.

Imagine this situation...  You are riding on a nice parkway.  You reach top gear and the light in front of you turns red.  With a grip shift, you twist the shifter to gear 1, then apply the brakes for a calm and controlled stop.  With the flappy paddles, you first have to hit the right paddle 14 times (assuming you have 7 gears in the back), then apply the brakes hard because you've spend the past 3 minutes hitting a stupid paddle shifter.

After this adventure, I've made my decision.  I'm going to drop Roy off at the bike shop tomorrow and have them put on a new wheel that is likely twice the value of the entire bike.  Then I'll probably have to put all new shifting and brake cables on him.  When done, I'll have put 3 times the value of the bike into the bike just so he's functional again.  All this because bicycle companies can't design a functional shifter.

Duathletes Are Jerks

Not all duathletes are jerks.  Really, just 2 of them are jerks, but I'll get into that later.

If you remember from my Oakdale Duathlon race report, I mentioned an incident in the first run and called it the "jerkiest thing ever".  Let me set up the situation for you.

The Setup
I started in the first wave (elites and teams), and immediately drifted to the back of my wave along with woman in the purple top (heretofore referred to as WITPT, pronounced wit'-put).  Two minutes after we started, non-elite men under the age of 40 started.

The Incident
A little over 1 mile into the run me and WITPT approached a gentle leftward curve that also went up a small incline.  (I've included a diagram below that not only clarifies the situation, but demonstrates my world-class autoshape skills.)  WITPT was on the inside line of the curve, and I was off her right shoulder, but still to the left of the imaginary centerline of the path.  Heading up the hill, we hear from behind us "RUNNER ON YOUR LEFT!!  RUNNER ON YOUR LEFT!!".  The two fastest non-elite men under 40 we're hollering for us to move out of the way so they could go by on the left.  I had no intention of moving over for them (they had the half of the path to my right to pass), but WITPT sharply moved right to accommodate, and I had to back off a bit to avoid tripping over her, thus letting the jerks pass us on the left.

I'm the red circle, WITPT is the purple circle, and the two people passing us are blue circles.  Arrow shows direction of travel.

Why was this a problem?  In running, you stay to the inside and pass to the outside (except for weird situations like the Dome, where it's reversed).  Pretty simple.

Admittedly, this incident was pretty minor in the overall scheme of things, but it bothered me more than I thought it would.  And while I hate generalizations, this seems to bring together a lot of thoughts that I've had about triathletes and duathletes.  My intent is not to offend anyone (I know some very good people who are also triathletes), but to point out a major problem that led to this incident at the Oakdale Duathlon.

Most triathletes are over-the-top elitists.

There, I said it.  But one can't help but feel that way when it's a competition where money buys victory.  I understand that you don't need $10,000 bicycles, space helmets, or carbon fiber wheels to participate, but you're kidding yourself if you think you don't need those things to be competitive.  Sure, everyone will tell you that you'll be just fine with your 10 year old mountain bike, but then they either (a) ask you when you're going to get a faster bike, or (b) assume that you'll be last, or close to it.

Before returning to the incident above, let me give you a few other anecdotal stories to support my thesis.

• The first story is also from the Oakdale Duathlon.  The winners of the race finished a long time before the last people even finished the biking portion.  Instead of waiting, the fast people cleared their bikes and gear out of transition even as people were still trying to race.  On one occasion, there was a group of people chatting in transition, blocking the way through.  A woman coming in from the biking segment had to yell at them to get out of the way so she could keep going.
• The second story comes from Oakdale too.  After most people finished, they started the awards ceremony.  Mind you, now, not everyone was finished.  So here we are, congratulating people on a race well done, and some folks aren't even done yet.  These people didn't get the spectator support that everyone else got, they didn't get their names announced at the finish, and they returned to a transition area that was almost completely disassembled.
• The third story is from the Lakefront Days triathlon that I did last summer.  I was on a mountain bike, and on the rare occasions that I passed people, I liked to announce it ("On your left!") and even gave a friendly greeting.  One person (besides friends) announced that he was passing.  What was he riding?  An old mountain bike.

Folks, I get it.  I'm not as fast as you.  I can't afford to spend thousands of dollars on equipment so that that I can buy a podium spot.  But I have a right to a great race as well.  If you want to pass me, then do so—but don't yell at me to get out of your way.  Everything is not about you, and if you ever want your community of athletes to have the same bond and connection that the running community has, you're going to have to change.

There are good people that do triathlons.  They may be slow, and they may ride old mountain bikes.  But if you want them to stick with it, if you want them to get the same enjoyment out of it that you do, if you want them to be successful, then show them that they are more valuable than any stupid pointy helmet.

The iPod Has Ruined Running

Running is a strange sport.  In some ways it's an individual sport.  All it takes is for a person to head out the door and run.  But, running is very much a community sport.  There's this deep bond between people who run.  Some run fast.  Some run slow.  Yet we have this connection that transcends speed and distance.  It's hard to explain, yes, but running as a sport wouldn't exist without it.

I get the need for "alone time" while running.  Some of my best runs happen when I'm the only person at the track, hours before the sun rises.  Just me, the track, and the sound of my feet striking the ground.  I get that.  I understand running for miles and miles on your own—through the woods, down the beach, around the neighborhood.  I get that.

This morning was not one of those mornings for me.  I had some extra time, so I drove to the lakes and put 10 miles in going around Calhoun, Harriet, and Lake of the Isles.  If you've never ran at the lakes on a Saturday morning, know that it is THE place to run.  On a Saturday in the summer, the trails are so crowded that it's tough to pass people.  Today, it wasn't quite that crowded, but in my hour and a half of running, I passed hundreds of runners.

And 95% of them had music players in their ears.

Never have I run with so many people, yet felt so alone.

I wore my 2010 marathon shirt, and each time I would see someone wearing the same shirt (at least 5 or 6 other people), I wanted to say to them "Nice shirt!" or something that exemplifies this connection that we, as runners, share.  But I didn't say anything because they were in their own, electronically enhance world.  Too absorbed to even make eye contact.  No desire to offer a wave, or a smile.  Nothing.  Alone.

I ran with an iPod for a while last year, but hated it.  It wasn't that the music messed up my pace—which it did.  It wasn't that it was a hassle to always worry about the iPod—though that was part of it.  It's that I couldn't stand being isolated from the very sport that I love.  I hated not hearing the sounds of traffic.  I hated not noticing the birds, or the planes overhead.  I hated that I was running outside, but could have just as easily been on a treadmill, and the experience would have been the same.

It happened in the marathon, too.  I would see something funny or exciting, and when I made a comment about it to the people around me, no one responded.  No one even heard me.

I can't change this.  It's a reality that as more and more people take up this great sport, more and more people will do it with music players.  I think that's sad.  But, I guess I have to get used to running—while undergoing phenomenal growth—becoming a more individual sport than it ever has been.

Lakefront Days Triathlon Race Report

Or, "It's All About the Run.  Mostly"


I did it.  I finished the triathlon.  And, I'm happy with how it went.  I won't go into my expectations again, but if you need a refresher, check the previous post.  I will say that the weather was unexpected—I was assuming warm and humid, but we got cool and rainy.  That's fine by me, but I could have gone faster had I not been unnecessarily weighed down by sunscreen.  :)

Pre-Race
Running is a simple sport.  You need shoes, shirt, shorts, socks, maybe a watch, maybe some Gu if it's a longer race, and a race number.  Then you're good to go.  Triathlon is not a simple sport.  Exhibit A:

That's all my race gear on my living room floor the night before the race.  Not included, of course, is my trusty bicycle, Roy.

We loaded up the car…early…and left.  How early?  Well, the following photo was taken outdoors:

Katie is wondering why we're loading up before dawn

We arrived at Cleary Lake as transition opened at 6am, and grabbed some spots on the end of the rack.  Ariel (doing her first triathlon too), showed up not too long after we did, and brought a bright orange towel to tie on the rack to help us spot it when running through transition later.  I set my transition area up using an old pink bath mat that my mom gave me when I moved to MN.  I figured that if it works in a bathroom with wet feet, why won't it work outdoors with wet feet?

Katie's transition spot on the left, mine on the right.

The racks look pretty roomy there, but we would compress later when more people needed to rack their bikes.  Here's my little spot:

Pretty gold swimcap, eh?

We got bodymarked, then checked out the swim course now that the buoys were there:

We started at the close buoy, then swam out to the far one, then came back the other side

I'll admit that seeing the swim course actually made it less intimidating than I was expecting.  Getting an idea for how far apart the buoys were made it seem like a pretty doable distance.  They were also out "mowing" the weeds in the lake.  A welcome sight, but it still ended up being pretty weedy.

I warmed up with a little bike ride, some running, then some swimming.  Before heading to the beach, Katie and I snapped a photo:

I'm apparently REALLY excited

I swam for a bout 5-10 minutes to get warmed up and to try swimming in just the tri suit for the first time.  As it turned out, the water temperature was 80°F, so it was not a wetsuit-legal race.  I could have still worn my wetsuit, but then my results wouldn't count.  I was ok with being slower, and knew that I could safely complete the distance, and thus went sans wetsuit.

The Swim

I started with "Men: 29 and Under"3 minutes after the first wave (the elites) started.  While waiting for the gun, I noticed two people standing in front of me wearing blue jeans.  Yes, blue jeans (they were jean shorts).  I made a mental note that I considered them costumed runners and knew I had to beat them.

The gun went off and we started.  I hung back a bit to let the others get a head and give myself a bit of room.  I knew it was important to take the swim EASY, and Steve reminded me of this.  The first 50 meters were a little tough because I wasn't thinking about my swimming form.  Once I realized that "hey, I don't need to lift my head all the way out of the water to breathe", things became much easier.  I didn't swim exactly straight, and there were two guys in front of me for most of the swim.  One of them was doing sidestroke, the other backstroke.  It was tough to get by them, and they moved all over the place.  I will admit though that at one point I looked where I was going, "corrected" my path, but ended up cutting laterally all the way to the rope diving the course.  Whoops.

For the most part, there wasn't much physical contact between me and others.  After I reached the turnaround, I could start to see the hot pink swim caps of the next wave heading out to the turnaround.  For some reason, I just assumed that whenever I saw a pink swim cap, they'd be on the other side of the rope.  At one point, I turned and saw a pink cap REALLY close to me.  I thought I had drifted across the rope somehow into oncoming traffic, and I was a bit shocked.  I think the woman thought she had hit me or noticed that I jumped a bit, and she actually apologized right there.  (She didn't do anything wrong—it was all me).

When my hand hit the bottom, I knew I had made it, so I stood up and ran out of the water and up to transition.

Swim Time: 12'29"

T1

It started to rain during the swim, so I was surprised by the rain when I got out of the water.  I made 2 split second decisions in transition.  The first was to put my bath mat on top of my bag.  This was a good decision because it kept my clothes dry for after the race.  The second decision was not so good.  I waffled over taking my sunglasses because it was so cloudy, and ended up leaving them behind.  This would be severely problematic later.

T1 Time: 2'09"

The Bike

Roy and I headed out on the bike course, and I knew right away that not having sunglasses was a mistake.  The water coming off my front tire was going right into my eyes, so I kinda had to quint for most of the bike ride.  Not terrible, but not ideal either.

I passed a few people, but mostly got passed by people.  Katie and Katie (another friend of ours doing the tri), passed me only a couple miles into the ride.  I had some mechanical issues where my chain wouldn't go on the big cog up front, so I was stuck on the middle one for a while.  Once I got it up on the big cog, I was worried I wouldn't be able to get it back up there, so I left it on the big one for a while.  This made some of the uphills tougher than they needed to be.  I eventually tried going down to the middle one, then back up to the big one, and all was good.

Little Rant: When I pass people, I find it is courteous to announce that I'm doing so.  A simple phrase like "On the left" or "Left" works fine.  On the course, only 1 other person announced they were passing me.  He was on a road bike with fenders and a back rack, but still had the decency to announce his passing.  No one on the fancy bikes announced anything, and they mostly passed too closely.  Not cool.

I felt good for the ride, and didn't go too hard.  I may also have been humming to the tune of Cwm Rhondda for most of the ride...  I finished refreshed and ready to go on the run.

Bike Time: 51'07"  (15.85 mph—surprised me too!)

T2

I was very quick with this.  Drop Roy off, pick up my race number, then go.

T2 Time: 0'31"

The Run

Here's where the racing started for me.  I went out at a pace a little harder than I thought I could, but wanted to keep it up for as long as possible.  One guy passed me toward the beginning, but other than that I only passed people.  1.5 miles in, I came across Katie and Katie, and greeted them.  They were pushing each other on the run.

I kept my pace going, and was doing great without my watch.  About 200m from the finish, I saw one of the guys in jean shorts!  All of a sudden my inner dialogue went to "Don't get beat by costumed runners, don't get beat by costumed runners…"  I started my kick then and there.  I thought it may have been too early, but I held him off easily and crossed the line.

Run Time: 22'43"

Total Time: 1:28:57

Post Race

I waited with Ariel's fiancé Brian, David, and David's girlfriend Cia who all were great spectators out in the cool rain.  Just a few minutes after I finished, Katie came by, then my Katie came by right after he. My Katie looked like she had a tough run, but she had a good race.  We grabbed some food (including fantastic hot dogs), and waited for Ariel.  She came by just a little while later, and finished strong AND beat her goal time of 2 hours by a couple minutes.  Great job Ariel!

Some Analysis

Overall: 128 out of 293

Men: 80 out of 145

Men 20-24: 6 out of 10

So, I was for the most part middle of the pack.  I'm pleased with how the race went, and considering I had the 2nd slowest swim and bike in my age group, middle of the pack is ok with me.

However, the run was something else entirely.  Over the 3.3 mile course, I finished in 22'43".  That's a pace of 6'54" per mile.  6'54" per mile!  My 5k PR was at a pace of 7'06' per mile, so that means that in a longer race, and after doing a 400m swim and a 13.5 mile bike ride, I ran at a faster pace than my 5k PR!  This is exciting, and it means my running training is on the right track.  I can't wait to break that 20 minute 5k next year!

Also very interesting was how I placed on the run segment:

Overall: 24 out of 293

Men: 19 out of 145

Men 20-24: 1 out of 10

Holy Cow!  I had the 24th fastest run out of everyone, and my time was faster than many of the elites.  I also had the fastest run in my age group.

Ok, ok, ok, I know that this means that you can't be good at one sport to do well in a triathlon—you need to be balanced in order to do well.  But, I knew going into this that I couldn't focus too much on swimming and biking, and that running would be my strongest segment.  I'm super happy with how it ended up.

David took some photos, and there was a race photographer (who may have gotten a less than flattering one of me on the bike), so I'll post some photos of me racing when I get my hands on some more photos.  I had a good time, but now it's time to worry about the marathon and focus exclusively on running now.

Men's Locker Room Public Service Announcement

If you are in the men's locker room, and you get a phone call, please take it outside.  If you can't, and must sit down on the bench to talk, be aware of your surroundings.  If someone comes back from the shower and needs to go into the locker directly across from you, it is common courtesy to not stare at their ass while they get changed.  You could get up and walk away, or face your own locker, or hang up the phone.

Thank you.  That is all.

Morning vs. Afternoon Runners

While I was training for the marathon, I ran in the mornings.  I did this for two reasons: first, I'm a morning person, and I like to start my day off with a run.  Second, I wanted to avoid the summer heat.  So, I ran in the mornings.  Lately, though, I've been running when I get home in the afternoon.  It doesn't get light until about 7:45 now, and I've been getting to the U earlier, so I've squeezed out my morning run.  Should be no big deal, right?  Sunshiny afternoons and a good way to wind down the day—just like cross country practice.  Well, I don't enjoy running in the afternoons for one major reason:

Afternoon runners aren't nearly as friendly as morning runners.

I'm a waver.  It's a gesture from one runner to another that we acknowledge each other's trials and tribulations and that point in time.  It's a simple wave.  Sometimes it's accompanied by a "good morning" or a "keep it up".  80% of morning runners return the gesture.  In the afternoon, only about 10% wave back.  And since there are considerably more runners in the afternoon than the morning, I look like some sea mammal whose flipper is going into spasm constantly because I keep waving for seemingly no reason.  I'm not sure of the reason for this phenomenon, but I posit that it has something to do with the passive-aggressive nature of all Minnesotans.  They're nice enough to be outside with other humans, but when it comes to interacting, they're much too busy.

Liberation

Dear Nike+iPod,

I want a divorce. We've been together for 10 months and 240 miles. But it's over. Things started off grand for us. You helped me get back into running. You told me how far I went each day and when to turn around. You even brought Lance Armstrong and Paula Radcliffe along with us on occasion.

But it's over. You see, I'm tired of the voices in my head. I don't enjoy having more wires wrapped around me than there are in Radio Shack. My arm is sick of the armband. My pace is all messed up. And I've missed one of the best things about running outdoors--the outdoors.

You should also know that I've found someone new--a "friend with benefits" if you will. It's name is Nike+Sportband. Yes, it's your cousin. I'm sorry, but it's just so much more compact. It tells me everything thing I need to know, and nothing I don't. To any outsider, it's just a watch, but to me, it means freedom.

I wish you well. I hope you find someone new.

Sincerely,

Matt

TC Marathon Countdown: 60 days