ITU short course Duathlon World Championships

NASCAR Motor speedway. Rev your engines boys, its time for a two-legged drag race! That was the mental dialogue on the start line of yesterday’s ITU Short Course Duathlon World Championships in Concord, North Carolina. Donning some of the best run fitness of my life, I stepped onto the start line (the actual NASCAR track) to begin the 10K run, draft legal 40K bike, and 5K event that incorporated a repeated 2.5K run loop and five 5mi bike loops that involved a full loop on the NASCAR race track. My health and run taper leading up to the event went surprisingly well. I had some time trials on tired legs that did not produce flattering times, but deep down I felt like I was doing the work needed to be competitive in the elite field. People always ask me- “So how do you think you will do?” to which I respond “I’m gonna finish.” The unpredictability of having everything go well on race day, especially draft legal events ,always brings a level of anxiety to one’s expectations, and some of my best results have come from events that I have approached with humble expectations and minimal confidence. Possibly, this is a coping mechanism to deal with the likelihood of mediocre results; regardless, I try not to set myself up for disappointment or overestimate my realistic physical capabilities. My goals leading into this event were to be in 30min 10K shape if I were racing an ideal flat out 10K. I knew the race was going to break into packs on the first run, and I figured if the group I was in could stay within a minute of the very front leaders we would catch back up on the bike. The bike course was rather technical, and with forecasted rain, reinforced my thought that people would be cautious and most likely everyone would come together before starting the second run. As I was discussing with coach Jason, I wanted to go big or…. well, yea, go home. My strategy therefore was to take it very comfortably on the first half of the 10K, bridge up or back off to the closest run group, work together on the bike to catch the leaders, and really open it up with fresh legs on the second run.

The race was executing perfectly. At the start I was immediately at the back of the run train. That was ok, because I know my best bet to conserve energy was to run even or negative splits the 10k. Sure enough athletes were being slowly shredded from the lead group, and half way through I found myself comfortably leading a growing number of decent athletes, including 3 other Americans and last year’s World Champion, a monster cyclist. I was getting splits that we were holding a 1 minute deficit on the leaders, and feeling VERY relaxed, everything was perfect.
Off with the flats and onto the road we went, about 15 athletes total. The first couple loops on the bike were pretty nerve-racking. Although I was trying to conserve energy I felt great and to keep safe found myself pulling a good bit. I feel confident in saying my bike handling skills are superior to most of the duathletes out there, and I constantly found myself 40 yards off the front after technical (and wet) sections. During one of the rainiest times on the bike some athletes crossed wheels and 5 guys total hit the tarmac six feet in front of me. I locked up the brakes as I slide sideways through the rain trying to steer around the pileup. I had really forgotten how far bodies slide when crashing- especially when wet. Steadily our group chewed away the leader’s gap, and my excitement and adrenaline was pumping as we started the second to last bike loop, knowing we were going to catch the leaders. Half way through the loop my rear wheel started feeling a little wobbly… my tire was going flat. My heart sank. I had inadvertently left my CO2 cartridge and vitorria pitstop in the bike bag from Canada a week prior, but TSA graciously removed both means of repairing a flat tire from my checked luggage. This meant that I was solely relying on USAT’s wheel support, that we rode by every lap. The twists and turns in the course were great on inflated wheels, but the technical 3.5 miles to the wheel swap on a flat tire meant loosing significant ground to the charging bike pack I was just in. I pulled up, changed the wheel, and powered out of the pit area, trying to stay as positive as possible, knowing my chances of a high finish were over.

I really liked the course, and had a great time traveling with Josh Merrick, and I thought of these things as I solo-ed the remaining bike lap with a 2min deficit. Transition was smooth, and out I went trying to find a psychological happy place that would encourage me to finish the race strong. A Russian athlete went by me 1K into the run, and the competitive urge was all I needed to kick it in gear and pass a hand full of runners the remaining bit. The last leg was short, I would guess about 45 seconds. The top finishers were legit, and I can only aspire to compete at their fitness level. Who knows where the chips would have fallen had I started the second run with the lead pack. Regardless, I had a fun trip, and look forward to a few more big events before winter sets in.

Racing has fantastic ups and utter disappointments. You ask 10 athletes why they race and you will get 10 different answers. The bottom line is that most of us completely take for granted the basic freedom and opportunity we get in toeing a start line. At the elite level, we have been given a gift; how we foster and display that gift is a function of our psyche that defines the sportsmanship of each athlete. Triathletes and runners alike don’t train for the money, rarely the fame, and if we happen to win a pair of shoes, race bag, or spare tire- awesome. There is no value we can put on the hours we train, the self-inflicted suffering, and the personal sacrifices we make, to do what we do. We all share a common competitor, one who is with us each and every workout, every race. They encourage and taunt, strive for our better, and won’t let us quit. My college running coach had a favorite workout. He called it “pace of choice”. We would do some hard track repeats, and then be sent out for an unanticipated 5 mile “pace of choice”. Sure we would race each other, but deep down we all knew who we were really racing. The greatest satisfaction I get from running is when I occasionally beat my fiercest competitor: myself. “You are your own executioner” Coach Hunt would say. Some days I see that executioner, from the corner of my eye, I will catch my shadow, more commonly I just hear footsteps approaching. I quicken the pace, “nobody passes me” I would think. And just to be sure I would take a glance back down the lonely single-track.