Block Island Triathlon

So, I just did a triathlon. It’s been a long time since I could say that. 10 years, in fact. In 2004 and 2005 I got the tri bug after my arthritic foot forced me to substitute some cycling and swimming for running, and I did six of them in those two years. But I quit cold turkey and had no plan of picking it back up…until my WTAC cycling buddies started applying the pressure to join them at some local RI tris. I successfully resisted the urge last year but my defenses were down this year, and I agreed to consider it. I hadn’t swum in three years (with one notable exception – see the end of this write-up for the exclusive story), and I needed to make sure I wouldn’t drown before officially registering. A month ago, I finally got up the courage to do an open-water swim in Maine. Having survived that, I had no more excuses, and I made a date with the Block Island Triathlon.

A picturesque day as we depart Galilee

Fast forward a month (and three more open water swims!), and I was boarding a 6 AM ferry with Jeff, Matthew, Tommy, Shara, Steve, and Polly for Block Island. It was a gorgeous morning, and none of the intense nerves I used to feel before triathlons were present. I don’t know if it was having the company of friends, or a more mature and relaxed attitude about racing in general, but it was a better pre-race feeling than I remembered. Upon arrival, I picked up my bike (after a moment of panic when I couldn’t find it) and rode over to the race start – a mile up Corn Neck Rd – to pick up my bib, chip, and t-shirt. I was hit with a feeling of queasy nostalgia when I started setting up my stuff in the transition area. I’ve never liked the sheer amount of stuff required for a triathlon, and the transition area forces you to confront it all at once. Wetsuit, goggles, swim cap, body glide, bike shoes, helmet, sun glasses, hat, running shoes, race bib, water bottles, gels, the list goes on and on. Once you locate it all (assuming you’ve remembered it), you then have to lay it out on a postage stamp-sized plot of land. “What is this, a transition area for ants?” I squeezed my stuff into place and sat around for a while to wait for Katie and the kids to arrive on the next ferry. Once they got there, I played in the sand with Seb for a bit before donning my wetsuit and jogging over to the start. I found Tommy and stood with him, awaiting our turn..

Steve regales us with a tale or two on the ferry ride over.

Long line of triathletes on the pilgrimage from the ferry to the start.

The Swim: Time: 9:03, Place: 35 of 354

This triathlon has an interesting swim start, in that you begin by running 50 yards down the beach before jumping into the waves and starting the swim in earnest. This lets the field spread out a bit before the thrashing of dozens of arms and legs commences. I was in the ninth group to start – 2nd among the men – along with the other 30-34-year-olds. Right next to me was Tommy (who kindly zipped up my wetsuit when I couldn’t do it myself; what a gentleman). Our group took off, and I instantly found myself getting dropped by 10 or so guys who were sprinting like they were in the streets of Pamplona. I jumped into the water, being careful not to dislodge my goggles, and tried to find a rhythm. My breathing was out of control from the crazy sand sprint and it took a minute or two before I started a semi-normal breathing pattern. I passed a bunch of the aggressive starters but lost track of how many had dropped me. It’s almost impossible to tell what’s going on in the water around you during a triathlon, and I was mostly concerned with not colliding with slower swimmers from the waves in front of me and trying to swim a straight line around the buoys. I was successful in the first of these, but not so much in the second. After I rounded the first buoy, I spotted the next one and swam in what I thought was a direct route. Instead, I somehow swam out in the ocean and almost collided with the paddle boarder who was ensuring aimless drifters like me didn’t get lost at sea. I recalibrated and swam back at an angle toward the buoy, eventually rounding this one and heading back to shore. By this time, my goggles were fogged up, and I had the hardest time seeing where I needed to go. I followed a couple of other swim caps I could see and hoped they were going the right way. I was thrilled to hit the sand directly in front of the path to the transition zone and even more thrilled to be done with my worst leg of the race.

Summary: I consider any swim in which I’m not asked by a lifeguard if I need help a success (that actually happened at two previous triathlons), so in that regard, I couldn’t be happier with how this went. However, my technique was all over the place, and I never got in a good rhythm. I looked up way too much and still got a little lost out there. There is definitely room for improvement. Grade: B.

Transition 1: Time: 1:12, Place: 4 of 354 

I was wearing a brand new wetsuit that I had tried on for the first time the night before the race. During the trial run, I discovered that it fit really well but was almost impossible to get off. I thought I might have to keep it on for the whole race if I ran into trouble. Well, thanks to liberally-applied Body Glide, I had no trouble on game day. Once it was off, I stepped into my bike shoes, threw on the helmet, and ran out the other side of the zone. It was as smooth a transition as I’ve had, the only issue being that I stepped into the bike shoes while my feet were still covered in sand and small pebbles, which created some discomfort on the ensuing ride. Grade: A-

The Bike: Time: 35:55 (21.0 mph), Place: 11 of 354 (the results say I was 15th, but four of the times ahead of me are almost definitely wrong; probably from cyclists doing just one of the two laps)

I hopped on the bike and took off with a few quick pedal strokes to get some momentum before fastening the straps on my shoes. It took longer than expected, as two of the straps had come out and had to be fed back through their metal guides before Velcroing the rest. I chose to use both Velcro straps but not to fasten the plastic strap near the ankle because I found it challenging to work with during my transition practice session earlier in the week. Of course, never once did I ride my bike with my shoes in this configuration during training, but who says you can’t experiment on race day? A couple of miles into the two-lap course, there is a steep hill. I was in oxygen debt almost immediately and felt like I really struggled up it. I began to wonder if this was going to be a bad day on the bike. I started feeling better after some downhill rest and eventually spotted a familiar figure up ahead – Tommy! I rode behind him for a few minutes and then passed as we headed up a short hill. Even though he was my main age group competition on the day, I really hoped he’d latch on and we could compete together the rest of the way.

The road was crowded with cars and cyclists from earlier start waves on the first loop, and the second got even busier, as cyclists from waves behind me were beginning their first circuit. I had a couple of near-collisions while passing large groups. One moment of dark humor on the second lap: while ascending the big hill, I saw a woman on the side of the road, trying to fix her bike chain. As I rode by, she shrieked to no one in particular, “And I was having such a good f---ing race!” Just another overly intense triathlete…

I felt great on the second bike lap and managed to ride a little bit quicker than the first time around (14:23 vs. 14:36). My one last challenge would be getting out of the bike shoes on the last straightaway and then executing a barefoot dismount. I got the shoes off without a problem (and was glad I didn’t have to contend with that third strap), but as I prepared to swing my right leg over to the left side of the bike, I found my legs to be really wobbly. I lost my balance and nearly ran Steve Schonning into the dunes before jumping off the bike. It probably looked smoother than it felt, because it felt like a Three Stooges skit.

Summary: The bike went about as well as it could have. I put in a good effort without overdoing it, stayed in the big chain ring the whole way, managed to get a few good swigs of water, and got into and out of the pedals with only some minor troubles. Grade: A

Transition 2: Time: 0:49, Place: 7 of 354

This was pretty uneventful. I got the bike back on the rack and stepped into my running shoes without issue. Grabbed my hat and race bib and headed into the sand. Grade: A

The Run: Time: 24:52 , Place: 1 of 354

This wasn’t pretty. Almost immediately after getting my shoes on, I knew I was in trouble. The run starts off through the deep sand, heading toward the ocean before turning right and running parallel to the shore. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. The legs are always a little rubbery after getting off the bike, but this was something different. I expected relief once I hit the firmer sand by the water, but this was only marginally easier. As one of the few shod runners in the race, I was faced with a conundrum: do I run on the harder packed (but steeply sloped) sand by the water and risk water logging my shoes, or do I go up on the shelf above the water line and suffer through the softer sand? I chose the latter and still don’t know if it was the right choice (nor do I know if I’d have been better off going barefoot). I only got a couple of shoefuls of water during the race, but it was a struggle the entire way. The intensity of the sun made it that much more difficult. I was parched, and the few cups of water I snagged over the course of the run didn’t provide much relief. I checked my pace during the first mile and saw I was running in the 6:30s. I figured I’d eventually pick up speed as I acclimated to the run, but I only got slower.

There are a couple of turnarounds on the beach, so I was able to see Tommy and Shara (who was far ahead of everyone) twice and Jeff and Matthew once. They all looked like they were moving way faster than I was. I also discovered that only one guy was ahead of me on the course. I had no idea which starting wave he was in, and I also didn’t know if there were others who started after me but had made up time. I slogged through the interminable final mile, fighting off calf cramps - my constant companion at recent races - as well as a quad cramp, at long last crossing the finish line in 1:11:51. (Turns out, I was almost right about running slower than my teammates. Jeff’s run was a mere 5 seconds slower than mine, and Tommy and Matthew were awfully close as well.)

Summary: I found this run to be harder than any of those snowy winter trail races. I had no spring in my step and was downright exhausted the entire way. I’m not sure if it was from the hard biking, the heat, wearing shoes in the sand, or some combination, but it was absolute misery. Grade: C

Overall: Time: 1:11:51, Place: 2 of 354, Grade: B+ 

Chart of my percentile ranking among competitors in each of my triathlons. Assuming the competition level was equal across all of these races, this shows that BI (the glowing point above) was either my best or second best result in each event. (Note: the big dip for the '05 Skinnyman was partly due to a bad race, and partly due to the competition; that race doubled as the NE triathlon club championship.)

After the race, I headed straight to the water, ostensibly to play with the kids, but really to cool off. What a good father. I didn’t know where I’d finished in the pecking order until getting called up for the second-place water bottle during the award ceremony. It was cool to share a podium spot with Tommy, who nabbed 3rd place despite doing very little running this year. Shara dominated the women’s race, and the Walkers both secured top-3 age group finishes. Steve should have received something for his expert volunteering and all-around good nature. We closed the afternoon with a nice group lunch before heading back to the mainland. In summary, while extremely disappointed with my run, I was thrilled to place 2nd in my first tri in so long (equaling my best ever triathlon finish). Even with a spectacular run, I wouldn’t have caught the winner, so I can’t beat myself up too much, but I still hate knowing I could have done better. Next time…

Seb practices his running after the race.

Scenic Block Island.

Bonus story: I promised a tale about the one time I’d gone for a swim (prior to this summer) since moving to Rhode Island three years ago, so here it is. It was early 2013, and I was recovering from a sprained ankle (surprise, surprise). We’d recently gotten a family pass to the South County YMCA, so I decided I’d take advantage and go for a swim. I hadn’t been in a pool in ages and couldn’t remember the proper etiquette when sharing a lane with others. I asked Katie – an experienced swimmer – for some advice. She said that if I found myself in a lane with someone else to ask them if they’d like to circle swim or to split the lane in half and each use one side. I was nervous about this type of interaction (you know, one in which I had to speak to another human) but chose to embrace the experience. I was relieved when I got to the pool and found one lane totally open. For now, at least, I’d have it all to myself. It didn’t last long. After 10 minutes or so, I spotted a man and women walking into the pool area, trying to decide which lane to join. They loitered near the end of my lane, appearing hesitant. This poor couple looked as unsure of what to do as I would have been had Katie not given me that advice. They were probably beginners, too, and would appreciate a friendly offer to share a lane. I swam up to them, and in my most confident voice said, “You are welcome to hop in this lane with me. We can circle swim!” I moved my finger in a circle in case they were unfamiliar with the term and to demonstrate that I knew what I was talking about. They smiled and said OK, but they still looked a little tentative. I started to swim again and after a few seconds began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. That lady had looked really familiar. And really fit. Where had I seen her before? Not here, obviously, since it was my first time in the pool. We hardly new anyone in Rhode Island at that point, so it wasn’t someone we’d met before. Who the heck was she? Slowly, the a memory began to materialize. Swimmer, TV, 2012 Olympics, Podium, Silver Medal, Bob Costas interview...Elizabeth Beisel. Oh my god. Elizabeth Beisel. I’d just offered Elizabeth Beisel a spot in my swim lane. What do I do? I could sink to the bottom and swim under the other lanes to the side of the pool. Or maybe just stay at the bottom for a while until they forgot about me. Instead, I started to swim as hard as I could so that I could reach the other end before she and her friend caught me. I thrashed and splashed and finally got there, ducking under the lane line just as I was about to be overtaken. Once safely on the other side, I found myself sharing a lane with another star-struck mortal. We made eye contact and gave each other a knowing nod and half smile. I dejectedly swam one more lap and got out of there before I could make more of a fool of myself. And I haven’t been back in a lap pool since.