Hi everyone,
This blog is no longer active. I have moved everything over to http://www.souloftriathlon.wordpress.com
Please visit that new site. Thanks!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
at any age . . .
In the last few races I've done there have been several guys in the 70+ category. I've written about that before, but it still amazes me. Here's a story about a woman who is in her 60s and still doing triathlons. Amazing!
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/broward/cooper-davie-southwest/story/1262594.html
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/broward/cooper-davie-southwest/story/1262594.html
something to check out
I'm not sure how to do links yet, but here's a blog I've been reading lately: http://www.triathlontrainingblog.com/
Good stuff, especially for us die-hard age groupers.
Good stuff, especially for us die-hard age groupers.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Point Pleasant Triathlon
Payton MacDonald
Point Pleasant Sprint Triathlon Race Report
600 meter swim, 10.5 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim: 9:37; 1:31 pace
T1: 3:35
Bike: 31:19, 20.1 mph pace
T2: 1:10
Run: 23:17; 7:46/mile pace
Total time: 1:08:56
Place: 23 out of 98
Pre Race
Point Pleasant. This is where it all began for me. I’ve written about this elsewhere, so I’ll skip the details, but I did my first triathlon here in 2007 and then again in 2008. Both times I trained on my own. Since I don’t have an athletic backround I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I had fun. And most importantly it set me on a path to a more active lifestyle that has been a profound change in my life. But this time it was different. Last year I placed fifth from last and it took me 1:39:40. This year I placed in the top quarter and it took me 1:08:56. Big difference.
But I almost didn’t make it to the race. I got directions to the town of Point Pleasant and figured once I was there I would remember how to get to the race site. Wrong. I stopped three times to ask but no one know how to get there. By this time it was 8:15 and the race started at 8:45. In a panic I called home and thankfully Jessica answered and was able to guide me to the race using Google maps. She had decided not to come because it was raining, but was still the most effective director of Team Payton ever. If it weren’t for her I would have ended my season in frustration rather than victory. From now on I will ALWAYS bring directions.
I got to the race site at 8:30, checked in, did my best with getting my transition area set up, pulled on my wetsuit, and was down in the water at 8:44. That warm up run and bike ride I had planned? Nope. That nice arrangement of my stuff for transition? Nope. Oh well, at least I got there. I had also been sick all week, coughing and hacking, and as of the day before I wasn’t sure I was even going to be able to race. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best choice to race while sick (and for the record my coach wisely advised me against it), but I knew I needed to test out my new race skills on this familiar course after 10 months of dedicated training or I would forever regret it.
Swim
This was my best swim yet, both in terms of comfort and time. There weren’t that many of us and the path was wide, so I had no trouble finding a nice clean line. I passed a lot of people from the first wave, but still never had to fight traffic. 1:31 is a PR for me. I plan on making that my average race speed next season.
I mostly remember feeling surprised at how short the swim was and inevitably a tinge of sadness when I got to the end of it. Many triathletes dread the swim, but I actually like it, especially when it’s smooth like this one was.
T1
I have no idea why this took me so long, but I think mostly it was because my transition area was messy. I really need to keep working on my transitions, though. The fastest guy did his in 1:29, so my 3:35 is really slow. It doesn’t take any superior level of fitness to have fast transitions, just practice and planning. If I had trimmed off just a two or three minutes from my two transition times combined I would have placed five or six places higher in the final results. Lesson learned.
Bike
No problems here, I just cranked and cranked. I love riding my bike, even in the rain. I’m surprised that my pace here was only 1 mph faster than last year since this year I was on a road bike and last year I was on a big old cruiser bike, but it wasn’t pouring rain last year and that cruiser bike was actually pretty fast once you got used to it. I passed a lot of people and was only passed by two guys, but not by much.
T2
A little slow, but otherwise fine.
Run
My best yet and another PR. I was hoping to average a 8:30 pace so coming out at a 7:46 pace was a pleasant surprise. I’ve only run that fast during speed work runs, so I didn’t know I had it in me, but I guess I do. I’m a little tall and heavy to ever reach elite levels of running but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to eventually get my pace down to, say, 6:30 for short races, and 7:00 for longer ones. It will take a few years, though. Running seems simple but is actually very complicated and it’s easy to get injured if you do too much too soon. I didn’t really run as much this season as I should have because I suffered an overuse injury earlier in the season that sidelined my running for almost a month, but still this was huge improvement for me and gives me confidence that I can do even better next season.
Post Race
I’ll never forget crossing that finish line. I wasn’t wearing a watch or heart-rate monitor during the race, so I had no idea how I was doing. I was hoping to break 1:15 and secretly really wanted to break 1:10 so when I came in at 1:08:56 I was elated. The feeling of finishing a race successfully is a lot like turning in a great performance on my instruments. I was flooded with feelings of joy and goodwill and I felt so happy to be alive and to have these kinds of opportunities. In fact, I was in such a great mood that I couldn’t even take a nap later in the day!
The past year has been life-changing for me. I never used to think I had any athletic potential. And frankly, I never really liked the world of athletics. My memories of athletics from high school and college are pretty negative. The athletes always got special treatment, were not always that gifted academically, and seemed overpaid and useless to society. I realized that the games provided entertainment for a lot of people, and entertainment is certainly a necessary release from the pressures of working life, but I just didn’t see the fairness in athletes getting millions of dollars a year while many of best artists and intellectuals were struggling in poverty. It’s not like Michael Jordan was solving our energy problems or writing great symphonies. He was just throwing a ball around!
My feelings about the distribution of wealth between the arts, sciences, and sports still hasn’t changed, but I have a new love of athletics. I realize now that Michael Jordon wasn’t just “throwing a ball around,” but he was demonstrating human physical potential, and he was doing it with grace and humility. The human body is an incredible work of art. From the structure of the skeleton to the harmony of the organs, to the way the muscles work, to the interplay of mind and spirit—it is truly remarkable. And even more remarkable is that most of us have a lot of potential. Unfortunately some of us don’t, and especially when I see kids who are stricken with terminal illness I feel so very, very sad. But for those of us are lucky enough to have working bodies, there is nothing more empowering than putting them to work and realizing our potential.
My body has changed in the last 10 months. My weight has stayed right around 170, but my waistline has gotten a bit narrower (I went from a 34 waist to a 33 or 32) and my shoulders got a bit broader. I now have muscles in my legs that I didn’t even know existed, as well as my back. And my view of my body has changed as well. I always used to have a slightly negative view of my appearance. I knew I wasn’t hideous looking, but after 30 years of people constantly teasing me about being thin and tall, I also knew that I wasn’t an “ideal body type.” Well, fuck them! For triathlon, you’re supposed to be thin. In fact, at 6’3” and 170 lbs, I’m actually on the big side! Most elite triathletes are four or five inches shorter and 15 pounds lighter. I realize now that my body is just fine, in fact, it’s beautiful. And people who tease me are usually doing it because they’re jealous or ignorant.
Being physically fit has increased my confidence more than anything else. Not so much because I feel superior to the masses of fat, doughy people in the world (especially the U.S.A.), but more because it feels good to walk around and feel my muscles working. I don’t need any prescription drugs, I don’t need to use the elevator, and I definitely don’t need to whine about my back hurting or whatever. Okay, I’ll admit I do feel a little superior to the masses of unfit people, but I deserve that feeling, as do the millions of other fit people who work hard to stay fit. True, I’m blessed with genetics that make obesity hard for me, but no one is getting up for me at 5:00 a.m. to get in those workouts. That’s all me.
There are many ways for people to get fit, but for me this sport is a good fit. I like the complexity of the sport and I really enjoy the variety. Between the swimming, biking, running, weight lifting, yoga, hiking, etc, that go into training it’s impossible to get bored. I’ve also really enjoyed the social aspect of the sport. My closest friends are still the musicians that I went to school with and perform with (especially the Alarm Will Sound family), but it’s been nice to broaden my social circle. I’ve met some really fabulous people and I’ve developed some great friendships. I’ll never get tired of partying with AWS or my other musician friends, but the hedonistic musician lifestyle is becoming increasingly foreign to me. I suppose part of it is maturity, what with a family and all, but a big part of it has been getting fit.
I’ve had a lot of conversations with my musician friends about what makes a given person particularly creative. Especially Alan Pierson and I have talked about that a lot. The prevailing attitude in the arts still seems to be that the most creative people are screwed up in some way. They’re drug addicts, or mentally unstable, or socially backwards, or all of the above. That attitude is really a throwback to the 19th century when the Romantic era was in full swing and artists like Belioz, Liszt, Schumann, or Chopin had problems like that. But we don’t live in that era any more, despite Kurt Cobain. We now know that creativity takes many shapes and forms and creative people live many kinds of lives. I’ve noticed in the past year that as my fitness level has increased my music has become more free, less academic, and much more personal. In short, I’ve seen a direct coorelation between healthy living and more creative power.
That doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone, but it is definitely working for me. And with every day that passes I see my life coming into focus in a way that it never was before. I thank Keith Cook for his guidance, as well as Jason Santarcangelo and the other folks on Team NRGY. And of course I really thank Jessica, the most perfect woman on the planet.
For next year, this is what I want to accomplish:
1.) get my race swim pace consistently down to 1:30
2.) develop more strength for increased speed up hills when I’m on my bike, and start looking into getting a tri bike
3.) get my running race pace for Sprint distance down to 7:15 or better, get my Olympic distance down to 8:00 or better
4.) have fun and don’t take myself too seriously
Now for some time off for a few months. I’ll go into off-season training and focus on my various musical projects, and then start up again in January or February.
Point Pleasant Sprint Triathlon Race Report
600 meter swim, 10.5 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim: 9:37; 1:31 pace
T1: 3:35
Bike: 31:19, 20.1 mph pace
T2: 1:10
Run: 23:17; 7:46/mile pace
Total time: 1:08:56
Place: 23 out of 98
Pre Race
Point Pleasant. This is where it all began for me. I’ve written about this elsewhere, so I’ll skip the details, but I did my first triathlon here in 2007 and then again in 2008. Both times I trained on my own. Since I don’t have an athletic backround I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I had fun. And most importantly it set me on a path to a more active lifestyle that has been a profound change in my life. But this time it was different. Last year I placed fifth from last and it took me 1:39:40. This year I placed in the top quarter and it took me 1:08:56. Big difference.
But I almost didn’t make it to the race. I got directions to the town of Point Pleasant and figured once I was there I would remember how to get to the race site. Wrong. I stopped three times to ask but no one know how to get there. By this time it was 8:15 and the race started at 8:45. In a panic I called home and thankfully Jessica answered and was able to guide me to the race using Google maps. She had decided not to come because it was raining, but was still the most effective director of Team Payton ever. If it weren’t for her I would have ended my season in frustration rather than victory. From now on I will ALWAYS bring directions.
I got to the race site at 8:30, checked in, did my best with getting my transition area set up, pulled on my wetsuit, and was down in the water at 8:44. That warm up run and bike ride I had planned? Nope. That nice arrangement of my stuff for transition? Nope. Oh well, at least I got there. I had also been sick all week, coughing and hacking, and as of the day before I wasn’t sure I was even going to be able to race. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best choice to race while sick (and for the record my coach wisely advised me against it), but I knew I needed to test out my new race skills on this familiar course after 10 months of dedicated training or I would forever regret it.
Swim
This was my best swim yet, both in terms of comfort and time. There weren’t that many of us and the path was wide, so I had no trouble finding a nice clean line. I passed a lot of people from the first wave, but still never had to fight traffic. 1:31 is a PR for me. I plan on making that my average race speed next season.
I mostly remember feeling surprised at how short the swim was and inevitably a tinge of sadness when I got to the end of it. Many triathletes dread the swim, but I actually like it, especially when it’s smooth like this one was.
T1
I have no idea why this took me so long, but I think mostly it was because my transition area was messy. I really need to keep working on my transitions, though. The fastest guy did his in 1:29, so my 3:35 is really slow. It doesn’t take any superior level of fitness to have fast transitions, just practice and planning. If I had trimmed off just a two or three minutes from my two transition times combined I would have placed five or six places higher in the final results. Lesson learned.
Bike
No problems here, I just cranked and cranked. I love riding my bike, even in the rain. I’m surprised that my pace here was only 1 mph faster than last year since this year I was on a road bike and last year I was on a big old cruiser bike, but it wasn’t pouring rain last year and that cruiser bike was actually pretty fast once you got used to it. I passed a lot of people and was only passed by two guys, but not by much.
T2
A little slow, but otherwise fine.
Run
My best yet and another PR. I was hoping to average a 8:30 pace so coming out at a 7:46 pace was a pleasant surprise. I’ve only run that fast during speed work runs, so I didn’t know I had it in me, but I guess I do. I’m a little tall and heavy to ever reach elite levels of running but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to eventually get my pace down to, say, 6:30 for short races, and 7:00 for longer ones. It will take a few years, though. Running seems simple but is actually very complicated and it’s easy to get injured if you do too much too soon. I didn’t really run as much this season as I should have because I suffered an overuse injury earlier in the season that sidelined my running for almost a month, but still this was huge improvement for me and gives me confidence that I can do even better next season.
Post Race
I’ll never forget crossing that finish line. I wasn’t wearing a watch or heart-rate monitor during the race, so I had no idea how I was doing. I was hoping to break 1:15 and secretly really wanted to break 1:10 so when I came in at 1:08:56 I was elated. The feeling of finishing a race successfully is a lot like turning in a great performance on my instruments. I was flooded with feelings of joy and goodwill and I felt so happy to be alive and to have these kinds of opportunities. In fact, I was in such a great mood that I couldn’t even take a nap later in the day!
The past year has been life-changing for me. I never used to think I had any athletic potential. And frankly, I never really liked the world of athletics. My memories of athletics from high school and college are pretty negative. The athletes always got special treatment, were not always that gifted academically, and seemed overpaid and useless to society. I realized that the games provided entertainment for a lot of people, and entertainment is certainly a necessary release from the pressures of working life, but I just didn’t see the fairness in athletes getting millions of dollars a year while many of best artists and intellectuals were struggling in poverty. It’s not like Michael Jordan was solving our energy problems or writing great symphonies. He was just throwing a ball around!
My feelings about the distribution of wealth between the arts, sciences, and sports still hasn’t changed, but I have a new love of athletics. I realize now that Michael Jordon wasn’t just “throwing a ball around,” but he was demonstrating human physical potential, and he was doing it with grace and humility. The human body is an incredible work of art. From the structure of the skeleton to the harmony of the organs, to the way the muscles work, to the interplay of mind and spirit—it is truly remarkable. And even more remarkable is that most of us have a lot of potential. Unfortunately some of us don’t, and especially when I see kids who are stricken with terminal illness I feel so very, very sad. But for those of us are lucky enough to have working bodies, there is nothing more empowering than putting them to work and realizing our potential.
My body has changed in the last 10 months. My weight has stayed right around 170, but my waistline has gotten a bit narrower (I went from a 34 waist to a 33 or 32) and my shoulders got a bit broader. I now have muscles in my legs that I didn’t even know existed, as well as my back. And my view of my body has changed as well. I always used to have a slightly negative view of my appearance. I knew I wasn’t hideous looking, but after 30 years of people constantly teasing me about being thin and tall, I also knew that I wasn’t an “ideal body type.” Well, fuck them! For triathlon, you’re supposed to be thin. In fact, at 6’3” and 170 lbs, I’m actually on the big side! Most elite triathletes are four or five inches shorter and 15 pounds lighter. I realize now that my body is just fine, in fact, it’s beautiful. And people who tease me are usually doing it because they’re jealous or ignorant.
Being physically fit has increased my confidence more than anything else. Not so much because I feel superior to the masses of fat, doughy people in the world (especially the U.S.A.), but more because it feels good to walk around and feel my muscles working. I don’t need any prescription drugs, I don’t need to use the elevator, and I definitely don’t need to whine about my back hurting or whatever. Okay, I’ll admit I do feel a little superior to the masses of unfit people, but I deserve that feeling, as do the millions of other fit people who work hard to stay fit. True, I’m blessed with genetics that make obesity hard for me, but no one is getting up for me at 5:00 a.m. to get in those workouts. That’s all me.
There are many ways for people to get fit, but for me this sport is a good fit. I like the complexity of the sport and I really enjoy the variety. Between the swimming, biking, running, weight lifting, yoga, hiking, etc, that go into training it’s impossible to get bored. I’ve also really enjoyed the social aspect of the sport. My closest friends are still the musicians that I went to school with and perform with (especially the Alarm Will Sound family), but it’s been nice to broaden my social circle. I’ve met some really fabulous people and I’ve developed some great friendships. I’ll never get tired of partying with AWS or my other musician friends, but the hedonistic musician lifestyle is becoming increasingly foreign to me. I suppose part of it is maturity, what with a family and all, but a big part of it has been getting fit.
I’ve had a lot of conversations with my musician friends about what makes a given person particularly creative. Especially Alan Pierson and I have talked about that a lot. The prevailing attitude in the arts still seems to be that the most creative people are screwed up in some way. They’re drug addicts, or mentally unstable, or socially backwards, or all of the above. That attitude is really a throwback to the 19th century when the Romantic era was in full swing and artists like Belioz, Liszt, Schumann, or Chopin had problems like that. But we don’t live in that era any more, despite Kurt Cobain. We now know that creativity takes many shapes and forms and creative people live many kinds of lives. I’ve noticed in the past year that as my fitness level has increased my music has become more free, less academic, and much more personal. In short, I’ve seen a direct coorelation between healthy living and more creative power.
That doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone, but it is definitely working for me. And with every day that passes I see my life coming into focus in a way that it never was before. I thank Keith Cook for his guidance, as well as Jason Santarcangelo and the other folks on Team NRGY. And of course I really thank Jessica, the most perfect woman on the planet.
For next year, this is what I want to accomplish:
1.) get my race swim pace consistently down to 1:30
2.) develop more strength for increased speed up hills when I’m on my bike, and start looking into getting a tri bike
3.) get my running race pace for Sprint distance down to 7:15 or better, get my Olympic distance down to 8:00 or better
4.) have fun and don’t take myself too seriously
Now for some time off for a few months. I’ll go into off-season training and focus on my various musical projects, and then start up again in January or February.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Buckman sprint triathlon, “Going to the Movies Alone”
Buckman triathlon
.5 mile swim, 17 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim: 16:08
T: 2:07
Bike: 55:59, 18.2 mph average
T2: 0:56
Run: 27:03, 8:44/pace
Total time: 1:42:11
40 out of 136
Pre race
A few days before the race I was fighting a little eye infection and I saw a doctor. He wisely advised me not to do the race, but I ignored him. Sometimes it’s good to listen to doctors, usually it’s not. The eye is fine now, and I’m glad I raced. But other than that, I went into the race feeling strong and ready to go.
Buckman Triathlon takes place in Round Valley State Park, in Central Jersey. Back in April I took a long bike ride there with my coach, Keith Cook, so I was familiar with the area. There are hundreds of horse farms there, with rolling hills and old mansions. It’s a beautiful place, and that bike ride convinced me yet again that New Jersey is actually a scenic state in places. True, the industrial sections around Newark and Eastern Philadelphia are hideous, but there are many other places in the state that are quite beautiful.
I was hoping that Team Payton (Jessica and Madeline) would join me, but it was raining steadily when we got up that morning and we decided it would be best if I went alone. I’ve only done a few races alone and the feeling is a lot like going to the movies by oneself. It’s fun to be alone in a quasi-social setting, anonymous and undisturbed. I enjoyed being able to really focus on the race and not worry about whether Madeline and Jessie were bored. But it’s not something I’d want to do all the time. There’s nothing more satisfying than crossing that finish line and seeing those two pairs of brown eyes twinkling at me.
Swim
No problems on the swim, except that as usual the first half was chaotic and I got bumped around a lot. At this point I can consistently swim a 1:50 pace in the pool or in the open water by myself, so it’s a bit frustrating that I keep coming in slightly over two minutes in the races, but I’m losing a lot of time in the first half of the swim, before the congestion eases. Perhaps I just need to be more aggressive when I’m swimming, but I’m not that keen on contact sports. Eventually I hope to get my T-pace down to 1:30 or better and then I’ll just be ahead of most everyone, with a nice clean line for swimming. For now, though, I’m fighting traffic.
T1
No problems here, though I’d like to get this under two minutes. But 2:07 isn’t bad. I just need to work on getting out of my wetsuit faster.
Bike
I really cranked on the bike. And cranked. And cranked. I wasn’t wearing a watch or heart-rate monitor, which was a good thing. If I had known that I was cranking that hard for 56 minutes straight I probably would have let up once in a while. I never felt sick or dizzy, but my heart rate was definitely in one of the higher zones for a long time. The hills were pretty intense and at times I was only going about seven or eight mph. But what goes up must come down and I also got up to 34 mph on several occassions. It rained the whole time, but I was careful. As much as I love the speed, I also don’t want to crash any time soon. I suppose a bike crash is inevitable at some point, but I do try to be as careful as possible. Things change when you have a beautiful baby girl at home and another on the way. I’m not as reckless as I used to be.
I passed about eight or nine people and was passed by two folks. I took much pleasure in passing several guys that were riding $3,000 bikes. As Lance Armstrong said, “it’s not about the bike.”
T2
My best yet. Under a minute.
Run
This went pretty well. I can easily run a 8:30 pace in training, and the other day I ran my first 7:30 mile, so 8:44 is a bit slow for me, but those hills on the bike really chewed up my legs and I was really feeling it the entire run. I felt a mild cramp coming on about mile two and walked a bit to let it go, but otherwise I plodded along with confidence. I remember that in the last quarter mile there ended up being a pack of six or seven of us sprinting towards the finish line. No matter how much I try not to be competitive with my colleagues on the course, I still try to pass as many of them as I can. Sometimes that competitive spirit can make you go even further. I did end up passing several of them, but there was this one 20-something girl that I just couldn’t catch. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t catch her. She went over the finish line only a second before me. Who knows, deep down maybe I didn’t want to pass her. She was quite attractive!
Conclusion
This was a great race for me, and in terms of placement I set a new personal record. I ended up 40 out of 136, which puts me squarely in the top third. Considering that only a year ago I was placing fifth from the bottom, this is HUGE improvement. I’m grateful to Keith for his guidance, and also Jason and the rest of the crew at Team NRGY for all their help. And I’m especially grateful to Jessica for being so supportive. I’m looking forward to next summer when this pregnancy is over and we can start working out together again. I definitely won’t pass Jessica on the run. She’s the most attractive woman of them all!
.5 mile swim, 17 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim: 16:08
T: 2:07
Bike: 55:59, 18.2 mph average
T2: 0:56
Run: 27:03, 8:44/pace
Total time: 1:42:11
40 out of 136
Pre race
A few days before the race I was fighting a little eye infection and I saw a doctor. He wisely advised me not to do the race, but I ignored him. Sometimes it’s good to listen to doctors, usually it’s not. The eye is fine now, and I’m glad I raced. But other than that, I went into the race feeling strong and ready to go.
Buckman Triathlon takes place in Round Valley State Park, in Central Jersey. Back in April I took a long bike ride there with my coach, Keith Cook, so I was familiar with the area. There are hundreds of horse farms there, with rolling hills and old mansions. It’s a beautiful place, and that bike ride convinced me yet again that New Jersey is actually a scenic state in places. True, the industrial sections around Newark and Eastern Philadelphia are hideous, but there are many other places in the state that are quite beautiful.
I was hoping that Team Payton (Jessica and Madeline) would join me, but it was raining steadily when we got up that morning and we decided it would be best if I went alone. I’ve only done a few races alone and the feeling is a lot like going to the movies by oneself. It’s fun to be alone in a quasi-social setting, anonymous and undisturbed. I enjoyed being able to really focus on the race and not worry about whether Madeline and Jessie were bored. But it’s not something I’d want to do all the time. There’s nothing more satisfying than crossing that finish line and seeing those two pairs of brown eyes twinkling at me.
Swim
No problems on the swim, except that as usual the first half was chaotic and I got bumped around a lot. At this point I can consistently swim a 1:50 pace in the pool or in the open water by myself, so it’s a bit frustrating that I keep coming in slightly over two minutes in the races, but I’m losing a lot of time in the first half of the swim, before the congestion eases. Perhaps I just need to be more aggressive when I’m swimming, but I’m not that keen on contact sports. Eventually I hope to get my T-pace down to 1:30 or better and then I’ll just be ahead of most everyone, with a nice clean line for swimming. For now, though, I’m fighting traffic.
T1
No problems here, though I’d like to get this under two minutes. But 2:07 isn’t bad. I just need to work on getting out of my wetsuit faster.
Bike
I really cranked on the bike. And cranked. And cranked. I wasn’t wearing a watch or heart-rate monitor, which was a good thing. If I had known that I was cranking that hard for 56 minutes straight I probably would have let up once in a while. I never felt sick or dizzy, but my heart rate was definitely in one of the higher zones for a long time. The hills were pretty intense and at times I was only going about seven or eight mph. But what goes up must come down and I also got up to 34 mph on several occassions. It rained the whole time, but I was careful. As much as I love the speed, I also don’t want to crash any time soon. I suppose a bike crash is inevitable at some point, but I do try to be as careful as possible. Things change when you have a beautiful baby girl at home and another on the way. I’m not as reckless as I used to be.
I passed about eight or nine people and was passed by two folks. I took much pleasure in passing several guys that were riding $3,000 bikes. As Lance Armstrong said, “it’s not about the bike.”
T2
My best yet. Under a minute.
Run
This went pretty well. I can easily run a 8:30 pace in training, and the other day I ran my first 7:30 mile, so 8:44 is a bit slow for me, but those hills on the bike really chewed up my legs and I was really feeling it the entire run. I felt a mild cramp coming on about mile two and walked a bit to let it go, but otherwise I plodded along with confidence. I remember that in the last quarter mile there ended up being a pack of six or seven of us sprinting towards the finish line. No matter how much I try not to be competitive with my colleagues on the course, I still try to pass as many of them as I can. Sometimes that competitive spirit can make you go even further. I did end up passing several of them, but there was this one 20-something girl that I just couldn’t catch. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t catch her. She went over the finish line only a second before me. Who knows, deep down maybe I didn’t want to pass her. She was quite attractive!
Conclusion
This was a great race for me, and in terms of placement I set a new personal record. I ended up 40 out of 136, which puts me squarely in the top third. Considering that only a year ago I was placing fifth from the bottom, this is HUGE improvement. I’m grateful to Keith for his guidance, and also Jason and the rest of the crew at Team NRGY for all their help. And I’m especially grateful to Jessica for being so supportive. I’m looking forward to next summer when this pregnancy is over and we can start working out together again. I definitely won’t pass Jessica on the run. She’s the most attractive woman of them all!
Friday, September 4, 2009
Xterra Schiff Scout race
Payton MacDonald
Xterra Schiff Scout Race Report
August 30, 2009
.5 mile swim, 10.5 mile mountain bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim:16:12
T1: 3:06
Bike: 1:01:10
T2: 1:03
Run: 31:13
Total time: 1:52:45
Place: 81 out of 164
PRE RACE
I expected this race to be much more comfortable than the Trimax Xterra I did in June. Trimax was in a beautiful setting, but the mountain bike portion was very technical and frankly far above my present ability level. Keith recommended Scout Schiff and it was a good recommendation, especially for folks like me who aren't crazy about carrying their mountain bikes over miles and miles of craggy rocks.
The course is situated on a boy scout camp in Wading River, on Long Island. It's a good two hours to drive there from Jersey so we made arrangements at a hotel just down the road and traveled there on Saturday. The hotel was overpriced and a bit seedy, so next year we'll try for something else. Jessica has an old friend from Interlochen in Wading River and we spent Saturday afternoon with her, her husband, and two young children. Madeline had a blast running around with the other kids and it was a low-key way to spend the day. The weather forcast was for heavy rains, but fortunately that didn't happen.
The next morning I got there by 7:00, ate a few bites of a powerbar and some water, rode a bit of the bike course, visited the toilet several times and just got comfortable. I was relieved to see that the bike course was mostly flat and smooth with no rock gardens.
SWIM
The swim was set up as two .25 mile loops, with a short run on the beach separating them. I started off strong, though I was unable to find a clear line for most of the first lap. I'm now solidly in the middle of the pack in terms of speed so I'm constantly swimming under and over and next to the other racers. Seems like no matter where I start this is the case now. The only problem I had in the first lap is that I got a big foot to my face and my left eye piece on my goggles instantly filled with water. With all the thrashing around of hundreds of racers it wasn't really convenient to tread water and fix it, so I just kept going. I fixed it while running on the sand before the second lap. The second lap was nice and smooth. The run up to the transition spot is long, but I enjoyed seeing Jessica and Madeline. Jessica waved at me. Madeline had her thumb in her mouth and looked thoroughly perplexed. I can't imagine how bizarre triathlon must look to a one-year-old.
T1
I had decided before the race to not hurry through my transitions. Especially with the first one, I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. I had also decided to wear elbow pads for the bike as my right elbow is still a little tender from the fall I took in June. (I should probably get that checked out . . .) But I got suited up and out of there in a little over three minutes.
BIKE
The bike course was really fun, especially as I was riding my new 29er Specialized Rockhopper expert with clipless pedals. That thing just rolls over everything. The course was fairly flat and smooth, and it was mostly a narrow trail that wound through the woods. In that sense it was technical. Some of the turns were sharp and if you weren't careful you could easily slam into a tree. But I was careful and I had no problems. The only frustrating thing is that the trail was so narrow it could be hard to pass. I lost many minutes putting along behind slow riders waiting for a safe place to pass where the trail widened out a bit. Overall, though, I passed about eight or nine people, but probably 15 or so passed me. Clearly I need to work on my speed on the mountain bike, but speed on a mountain bike is made of three things: 1.) cardiovascular and muscular strength, 2.) handling skills, 3.) being completely insane and unafraid of grisly crashes. There's still much I can do in terms of numbers one and two but with a family and a career as a musician (who depends on his hands and arms), number three is out of the question. So be it. The most important thing is that I had a great time and I am excited about riding that bike course again next year.
T2
No problems here, just in and out. Hopefully I can get this down to about 45 seconds next year.
RUN
The run was probably my best run of the season, even though my pace wasn't that fast. It was a challenging run, with some steep hills and even a stretch through knee-deep water, but I felt strong for most of it and I ran pretty fast. I also enjoyed it, which isn't always the case with the run. The only problem I had was around mile 2.5. I was cruising along, feeling strong and buoyed up by the run into the final stretch, when all of a sudden I seized up with a very painful cramp in my right side. I literally stopped in my tracks, breathless, and walked slowly for several minutes until I recovered. This was disappointing because I probably could have made my goal of about a nine-minute mile pace, but I lost several minutes with this. I deserved it, though. I clearly remember that right before I cramped a few people passed me. My emotional state had been very high for the entire race, with clear and noble thoughts. But as I got to the end of the run and got more tired I remember feeling less charitable towards the other racers (" . . .she's fast, but she isn't that attractive . . ."). Those are shameful thoughts, but if these race reports are to mean anything, I have to be honest. I have this vision in my mind that as those thoughts crowded into my head God looked down from Her throne on a fluffy white cloud and sent a lighting bolt of cramp straight to my right side. "That'll teach him," She must have said. But I recovered and finished strong. Jessica and Madeline were waiting for me and Madeline even gave me a big smile and shouted "Da Da!"
POST RACE
In closing, I felt that this was my best race of the season in terms of smoothness and my effort level. I cranked hard and even though I wasn't wearing my HR monitor I would guess that my heart rate was in Zone 5 for almost the entire race. I came out right in the middle, 81 out of 164. That is a HUGE improvement from the previous years before I received proper training and I would place almost dead last. But most importantly I had fun. I recommend this race to anyone who wants to try an Xterra but doesn't want to deal with a dangerous and technical mountain bike course
Xterra Schiff Scout Race Report
August 30, 2009
.5 mile swim, 10.5 mile mountain bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim:16:12
T1: 3:06
Bike: 1:01:10
T2: 1:03
Run: 31:13
Total time: 1:52:45
Place: 81 out of 164
PRE RACE
I expected this race to be much more comfortable than the Trimax Xterra I did in June. Trimax was in a beautiful setting, but the mountain bike portion was very technical and frankly far above my present ability level. Keith recommended Scout Schiff and it was a good recommendation, especially for folks like me who aren't crazy about carrying their mountain bikes over miles and miles of craggy rocks.
The course is situated on a boy scout camp in Wading River, on Long Island. It's a good two hours to drive there from Jersey so we made arrangements at a hotel just down the road and traveled there on Saturday. The hotel was overpriced and a bit seedy, so next year we'll try for something else. Jessica has an old friend from Interlochen in Wading River and we spent Saturday afternoon with her, her husband, and two young children. Madeline had a blast running around with the other kids and it was a low-key way to spend the day. The weather forcast was for heavy rains, but fortunately that didn't happen.
The next morning I got there by 7:00, ate a few bites of a powerbar and some water, rode a bit of the bike course, visited the toilet several times and just got comfortable. I was relieved to see that the bike course was mostly flat and smooth with no rock gardens.
SWIM
The swim was set up as two .25 mile loops, with a short run on the beach separating them. I started off strong, though I was unable to find a clear line for most of the first lap. I'm now solidly in the middle of the pack in terms of speed so I'm constantly swimming under and over and next to the other racers. Seems like no matter where I start this is the case now. The only problem I had in the first lap is that I got a big foot to my face and my left eye piece on my goggles instantly filled with water. With all the thrashing around of hundreds of racers it wasn't really convenient to tread water and fix it, so I just kept going. I fixed it while running on the sand before the second lap. The second lap was nice and smooth. The run up to the transition spot is long, but I enjoyed seeing Jessica and Madeline. Jessica waved at me. Madeline had her thumb in her mouth and looked thoroughly perplexed. I can't imagine how bizarre triathlon must look to a one-year-old.
T1
I had decided before the race to not hurry through my transitions. Especially with the first one, I wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. I had also decided to wear elbow pads for the bike as my right elbow is still a little tender from the fall I took in June. (I should probably get that checked out . . .) But I got suited up and out of there in a little over three minutes.
BIKE
The bike course was really fun, especially as I was riding my new 29er Specialized Rockhopper expert with clipless pedals. That thing just rolls over everything. The course was fairly flat and smooth, and it was mostly a narrow trail that wound through the woods. In that sense it was technical. Some of the turns were sharp and if you weren't careful you could easily slam into a tree. But I was careful and I had no problems. The only frustrating thing is that the trail was so narrow it could be hard to pass. I lost many minutes putting along behind slow riders waiting for a safe place to pass where the trail widened out a bit. Overall, though, I passed about eight or nine people, but probably 15 or so passed me. Clearly I need to work on my speed on the mountain bike, but speed on a mountain bike is made of three things: 1.) cardiovascular and muscular strength, 2.) handling skills, 3.) being completely insane and unafraid of grisly crashes. There's still much I can do in terms of numbers one and two but with a family and a career as a musician (who depends on his hands and arms), number three is out of the question. So be it. The most important thing is that I had a great time and I am excited about riding that bike course again next year.
T2
No problems here, just in and out. Hopefully I can get this down to about 45 seconds next year.
RUN
The run was probably my best run of the season, even though my pace wasn't that fast. It was a challenging run, with some steep hills and even a stretch through knee-deep water, but I felt strong for most of it and I ran pretty fast. I also enjoyed it, which isn't always the case with the run. The only problem I had was around mile 2.5. I was cruising along, feeling strong and buoyed up by the run into the final stretch, when all of a sudden I seized up with a very painful cramp in my right side. I literally stopped in my tracks, breathless, and walked slowly for several minutes until I recovered. This was disappointing because I probably could have made my goal of about a nine-minute mile pace, but I lost several minutes with this. I deserved it, though. I clearly remember that right before I cramped a few people passed me. My emotional state had been very high for the entire race, with clear and noble thoughts. But as I got to the end of the run and got more tired I remember feeling less charitable towards the other racers (" . . .she's fast, but she isn't that attractive . . ."). Those are shameful thoughts, but if these race reports are to mean anything, I have to be honest. I have this vision in my mind that as those thoughts crowded into my head God looked down from Her throne on a fluffy white cloud and sent a lighting bolt of cramp straight to my right side. "That'll teach him," She must have said. But I recovered and finished strong. Jessica and Madeline were waiting for me and Madeline even gave me a big smile and shouted "Da Da!"
POST RACE
In closing, I felt that this was my best race of the season in terms of smoothness and my effort level. I cranked hard and even though I wasn't wearing my HR monitor I would guess that my heart rate was in Zone 5 for almost the entire race. I came out right in the middle, 81 out of 164. That is a HUGE improvement from the previous years before I received proper training and I would place almost dead last. But most importantly I had fun. I recommend this race to anyone who wants to try an Xterra but doesn't want to deal with a dangerous and technical mountain bike course
Monday, August 10, 2009
Steelman triathlon race report
People are People and Why There’s no Such Thing as an A Race
Race Report, Steelman international-distance (Olympic) triathlon
August 9, 2009
Payton MacDonald
Pre race
The Steelman triathlon in Pennsylvania was supposed to be my A race of the season, that is, the most important race for me. The previous races were also important, but really just warm ups. Steelman was it. The big Kahuna. What I had worked for during the past ten months. Here I would prove to myself and my friends and family that getting up at 4:30 a.m. to train and watching my diet and all the money spent on triathlon would matter. This was to be my first international-distance race and I felt good going into it. My body and mind were primed and I was ready to set some PRs as I swam .9 miles, biked 24.6 miles, and ran 6.2 miles.
Jessica—as always—was supportive and cheerful about the project. Steelman is a big race, with over 1,000 athletes. Any race is a festive environment, but the bigger ones are especially so. There’s music, games, an expo, food tents, and the constant spectacle of 1,000 athletes from all walks of life, with all kinds of attitudes and gear. We booked a room at a nearby Comfort Inn and planned on bringing Madeline, our 20-month old daughter. She likes chaos (she often is chaos) and we knew she’d like the race environment.
We got to bed early the night before, and Madeline cooperated beautifully with the new sleeping environment. After jumping around on the bed like a monkey and then reading her Elmo books, she settled down nicely and we were all asleep by 9:00. I didn’t sleep that well, never do the night before a race, but I had wisely taken some good naps for a few days leading up to it, so I felt okay when I got up at 4:30. I quietly packed and then peeked outside.
It was raining.
Damn. So far I’ve been lucky and I’ve not had to race in the rain, but I knew it was just a matter of time. It wasn’t raining hard, but it was steady. I went to the lobby and the clerk told me it was supposed to get worse. When I got back to the room Jessica and I conferred and decided that it would be best if she just dropped me off at the race site and then she came back to the hotel with Madeline. This was really a bummer as the whole point of the trip was for us to be at the race as a family. The state park that hosts Steelman is beautiful and I knew she and Madeline would have had fun. And there is nothing more rewarding to me than to cross the finish line and have those two pairs of gorgeous brown eyes twinkling at me. I was disappointed and I felt bad that Jessica and Madeline had come all that way to just sit around a hotel room. But it was the best choice. There was no dry place for an active toddler at the race site.
So she dropped me off and it began.
Swim
The temperature of the lake was 78.5 F, which meant that it was not wetsuit legal. According to USAT rules, anything between 78 and 82 disqualifies competitors from winning any awards if they choose to wear a wetsuit. (Anything above 82 disqualifies anyone from the entire race). But I knew I wasn’t going to win any awards anyway, so I wore the suit. The additional buoyancy made it safer and since I trained in it and wore it for my other races I wanted to see how my pace compared.
I think I did pretty well in the swim. As usual it took me five minutes or so to really get comfortable, but I’m finally figuring out that there’s really no way around the jostling and crowded conditions at the beginning. The best thing is try to find a good line and then swim like hell. I keep my head down as much as possible when I’m not breathing so I can try to avoid a kick to the face, but basically just go for it. I’m still having trouble zig zagging too much and thus wasting a lot of precious energy, but otherwise the swim was pretty uneventful. That’s the longest I’ve ever swam in a race and I definitely felt the difference in length, but I never panicked.
T1
No problems here; in and out in pretty good time. I was pleasantly surprised to see so many bikes on my rack when I got there. The racks were organized by age group and I’m in the “animal” age group, 30–34. Endurance athletes typically peak in their early 30s, so many of the men in my group are good. There were some very experienced athletes on my bike rack, sporting $10,000 bikes and boasting of completing hundreds of races.
On thing I remember about T1 is that one of the other guys who got there around the same time I did was having some trouble with his leg cramping. I had some anti-cramping cream with me, so I dug around in my bag and tossed it to him. I probably lost 20 seconds doing that, but I didn’t even think about it at the time; I was just glad to help him out. I like doing things like that when I’m racing.
Bike
Here things began to unravel and I saw some of the best and worst of my colleagues on the course. Notice that I don’t call them competitors. They’re colleagues. We’re all in this to better ourselves, not to beat each other. Professional triathletes are different of course because winning translates to earnings which translates to food on the table. But for recreational athletes the attitude is different. It must be. Even if I win my age group or even the entire race, so what? Does anyone else in the world care? Am I going to solve any of the world’s problems? We can try to beat our own PRs and we can use other folks on the course as markers to pace or to pass, but spending even one second thinking about “beating” (such a violent word, isn’t it?) someone and “winning” is a waste of energy.
By this time the rain had intensified and now it was dumping. I climbed the first hill pretty well and soon enough I was out on the highway (which was thankfully closed to traffic) and bombing along at 24 mph. Within the first mile I hooted out a war cry and screamed “It’s raining, and I’m racing!!” I had a huge grin on my face.
This continued for the next six miles and then a STP (Super Triathlon Person) passed me and told me my rear memory lock was loose. Huh? I looked down and back and the lock that holds my rear axle in place was indeed loose. Holy cow, that’s dangerous! I thanked the guy who mentioned it to me and immediately stopped and fixed it. I have no idea how it became loose, but perhaps the rain had something to do with it. I was back at it in less than a minute, though, and making great time, but around mile eight I heard someone coming from behind and screaming at me. I thought he said he was passing me on the right, but because it was raining so hard I couldn’t hear him that well and I wasn’t sure.
“RIGHT!!! RIGHT!!! GET TO THE F@$#ING RIGHT SO I CAN PASS YOU!!! %#$&$%!!!”
Ah, now I understood. I was riding towards the middle of the road because it was sloped slightly towards the shoulder and there was less standing water in the middle. Of course, normally I would ride more towards the right because according to USAT rules you should only be on the left if you’re passing. But at this point the course wasn’t very crowded and there was plenty of space to pass on either side. Technically, this guy was correct. I was at fault for riding in the middle. But under the circumstances (dumping rain, not crowded), his behavior was really shameful. I mean, he could have asked nicely. So I moved to the right and he passed me while continuing to swear at me. I thought about speeding up to him and getting his number so that I could report him (he would have been disqualified from the entire race), but figured his life was probably a trainwreck anyway and his bad karma would play out in other ways. The irony of the situation is that after he passed me he only stayed ahead of me by 10 yards or so. I would have easily passed him if my luck had been better that day.
That experience really left a bad feeling in my stomach, and was especially jolting after the good sportsmanship displayed by my colleague who alerted me to the loose memory lock. As I sped along in the rain I thought a lot about people and their behavior. Why are some people so ungracious? And why is it that one’s personal demeanor may or may not bear any correlation to one’s accomplishments in other ways? This guy was clearly a real jerk, but maybe he spent his days as a pediatric surgeon saving children’s lives. Or maybe not. Maybe he was a greedy Wall Street lawyer whose only God is money. Who knows. But the first scenario isn’t improbable. Over and over again I meet people like that, especially in the arts. They’re good at what they do, and contribute greatly to the overall human project, but in terms of human relations they’re selfish, ugly, and abusive.
These thoughts occupied my mind as I kept speeding along through the dumping rain. I made the second turnaround and then something on the bike felt strange. I felt the rear tire slipping a bit. I had hit a big pothole about a half a mile back and I knew immediately what had happened. I had a flat tire.
With a groan and a sigh I pulled off the road and surveyed the damage. Yep, flat tire. I turned my bike over and took the wheel off. I found this easier to do if I took my glasses off, as they were so wet I could see better without them on, despite my nearsightedness (the wet glasses were problem when I was riding, too). I had changed one of my tires before, but doing it in a dry basement was a lot different than in the pouring rain on the side of a road. As the summer has progressed and I haven’t suffered a flat tire I keep thinking that I should take a day and change a tire a few times just to practice, but I always procrastinate on that aspect of race preparation. It’s much more fun to ride the bike than to fix it. That line of thinking is a mistake and it cost me this race.
Fortunately I was smart enough to be carrying a spare tube and a CO2 cartridge. It took me a long time to get the new tube and tire reseated, much longer than it should, but after mucking with it for 15 or 20 minutes I finally got it. Then I took out the CO2 cartridge. It took me a minute to figure out how to work it, but once I did it worked fine. The only problem was that I hadn’t seated the inner tube perfectly and there was a bulge that popped out when the tire inflated. But that was it. I didn’t have another CO2 cartridge.
Between the rain, the unsportsmanlike behavior I described earlier, and the flat, I was pretty discouraged, but during the time I was fiddling with the tire at least 20 people rode by me and asked if I needed help. That cheered me up considerably and improved my opinion of my colleagues a great deal. I politely refused their offers as I was determined to fix it myself. But after screwing up with the first cartridge and having no extras I realized I needed to accept some help.
“Need any help?” asked an older gentleman riding a Specialized.
“Yes! Do you have any extra CO2?”
“No problem,” he said as he pulled over. I ran up to him and we got it out of his bag. I took note of his number and thanked him profusely.
“No problem, and good luck,” he said as he sped away. Between stopping and the fact that we were at the bottom of the hill he must have lost at least a minute or two of time.
Unfortunately, though, this cartridge didn’t work that well. I couldn’t get it to release enough air, so even though I now had the tube seated correctly it never inflated properly. I didn’t feel right about stopping yet another racer, so I decided then to call the race. I had spent at least 30 minutes or so trying to fix the flat at this point and knew it was over. This is what it came to after ten months of training. A flat tire. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
I put the wheel back on and rode four miles into T2 at about 10 mph. Since I only did one bike loop I knew I would be disqualified from the race, but what could I do? I figured I could at least try to run hard and see how my pace was in the run and swim.
T2
In and out very quickly, no problems. The stacked brick workouts that Keith gives me are really paying off. I had no trouble transitioning into my shoes and my legs felt good going into the run.
Run
As of this morning they still haven’t posted the times to the race, so I’m not sure how I did in terms of numbers, but I felt pretty strong. 6.2 miles is a long ways for me; I’m not a strong runner. I stopped three times and walked briskly to let my heart rate settle a bit and stave off a cramp in my side, but otherwise I ran well. I find that the hardest part of the race is about two thirds of the way through the run. At that point I start feeling very tired and it really becomes a mental struggle to keep moving my feet forward. My form suffers and I know I start to shuffle, but it's tough. In retrospect, those are some of the most powerful moments of the race. Those are the moments athletes talk about when they say things like “digging deep.” That phrase is very accurate. There really is a sense that all the available reserves have been used up and you've got to look a little bit further into yourself to make it to the end. It’s very much like those epic practice sessions I’ve done in the past where I go for months putting seven or eight hours a day on my instrument, ignoring everything and everyone and pushing hard at the perceived limits of my potential.
Post race
So this was supposed to be my A race, the one where all those hours of training would come into focus and I would shine. But I got a flat tire. Even if I had known how to fix the tire better, my bike time would still have been off by at least 10 minutes or so. I thought about this a lot as I was running and I came to the conclusion that for me, there is no such thing as an A race. In my other life as a professional musician every performance is important. We have a phrase in the music community: every performance is an audition. Whether you're playing at Carnegie Hall for 2,000 people or at some dingy bar for six drunks, you always play your best. You never know who might be listening. I like to take it even further. Every musical moment is magical. Why would I ever get behind my instrument and not play every note with as much soul and depth of feeling as possible? Even in the practice room, I try to make every note I play count. And when I'm on stage—no matter where—I lay it all on the line and play as if it's the last concert I will ever play.
Triathlon is no different. I suppose if I were an elite athlete doing this professionally and I had to be careful about not straining muscles, then some races I might just cruise along and not try that hard. I would just get my body loose and ready for the big day. But I’m not an elite athlete and I never will be. I am proudly a recreational athlete and although I take triathlon very seriously, I always know it is part of the bigger picture of my life in general. So for me, every race is an A race. From the second that gun goes off I'm going to let the big dog rip and go for it.
After the race I found the race director and told him about the gentleman who gave me the CO2 cartridge. When he was making the announcements of the winners he had a special category for folks who had done some unusual things. One guy got a race belt for being the oldest guy to finish the race at 71 years old. The gentleman who helped me also got a race belt for good sportsmanship. I learned something from that. From now on I will always carry three CO2 cartridges. One for me, and at least one or two for someone else who might need it.
Race Report, Steelman international-distance (Olympic) triathlon
August 9, 2009
Payton MacDonald
Pre race
The Steelman triathlon in Pennsylvania was supposed to be my A race of the season, that is, the most important race for me. The previous races were also important, but really just warm ups. Steelman was it. The big Kahuna. What I had worked for during the past ten months. Here I would prove to myself and my friends and family that getting up at 4:30 a.m. to train and watching my diet and all the money spent on triathlon would matter. This was to be my first international-distance race and I felt good going into it. My body and mind were primed and I was ready to set some PRs as I swam .9 miles, biked 24.6 miles, and ran 6.2 miles.
Jessica—as always—was supportive and cheerful about the project. Steelman is a big race, with over 1,000 athletes. Any race is a festive environment, but the bigger ones are especially so. There’s music, games, an expo, food tents, and the constant spectacle of 1,000 athletes from all walks of life, with all kinds of attitudes and gear. We booked a room at a nearby Comfort Inn and planned on bringing Madeline, our 20-month old daughter. She likes chaos (she often is chaos) and we knew she’d like the race environment.
We got to bed early the night before, and Madeline cooperated beautifully with the new sleeping environment. After jumping around on the bed like a monkey and then reading her Elmo books, she settled down nicely and we were all asleep by 9:00. I didn’t sleep that well, never do the night before a race, but I had wisely taken some good naps for a few days leading up to it, so I felt okay when I got up at 4:30. I quietly packed and then peeked outside.
It was raining.
Damn. So far I’ve been lucky and I’ve not had to race in the rain, but I knew it was just a matter of time. It wasn’t raining hard, but it was steady. I went to the lobby and the clerk told me it was supposed to get worse. When I got back to the room Jessica and I conferred and decided that it would be best if she just dropped me off at the race site and then she came back to the hotel with Madeline. This was really a bummer as the whole point of the trip was for us to be at the race as a family. The state park that hosts Steelman is beautiful and I knew she and Madeline would have had fun. And there is nothing more rewarding to me than to cross the finish line and have those two pairs of gorgeous brown eyes twinkling at me. I was disappointed and I felt bad that Jessica and Madeline had come all that way to just sit around a hotel room. But it was the best choice. There was no dry place for an active toddler at the race site.
So she dropped me off and it began.
Swim
The temperature of the lake was 78.5 F, which meant that it was not wetsuit legal. According to USAT rules, anything between 78 and 82 disqualifies competitors from winning any awards if they choose to wear a wetsuit. (Anything above 82 disqualifies anyone from the entire race). But I knew I wasn’t going to win any awards anyway, so I wore the suit. The additional buoyancy made it safer and since I trained in it and wore it for my other races I wanted to see how my pace compared.
I think I did pretty well in the swim. As usual it took me five minutes or so to really get comfortable, but I’m finally figuring out that there’s really no way around the jostling and crowded conditions at the beginning. The best thing is try to find a good line and then swim like hell. I keep my head down as much as possible when I’m not breathing so I can try to avoid a kick to the face, but basically just go for it. I’m still having trouble zig zagging too much and thus wasting a lot of precious energy, but otherwise the swim was pretty uneventful. That’s the longest I’ve ever swam in a race and I definitely felt the difference in length, but I never panicked.
T1
No problems here; in and out in pretty good time. I was pleasantly surprised to see so many bikes on my rack when I got there. The racks were organized by age group and I’m in the “animal” age group, 30–34. Endurance athletes typically peak in their early 30s, so many of the men in my group are good. There were some very experienced athletes on my bike rack, sporting $10,000 bikes and boasting of completing hundreds of races.
On thing I remember about T1 is that one of the other guys who got there around the same time I did was having some trouble with his leg cramping. I had some anti-cramping cream with me, so I dug around in my bag and tossed it to him. I probably lost 20 seconds doing that, but I didn’t even think about it at the time; I was just glad to help him out. I like doing things like that when I’m racing.
Bike
Here things began to unravel and I saw some of the best and worst of my colleagues on the course. Notice that I don’t call them competitors. They’re colleagues. We’re all in this to better ourselves, not to beat each other. Professional triathletes are different of course because winning translates to earnings which translates to food on the table. But for recreational athletes the attitude is different. It must be. Even if I win my age group or even the entire race, so what? Does anyone else in the world care? Am I going to solve any of the world’s problems? We can try to beat our own PRs and we can use other folks on the course as markers to pace or to pass, but spending even one second thinking about “beating” (such a violent word, isn’t it?) someone and “winning” is a waste of energy.
By this time the rain had intensified and now it was dumping. I climbed the first hill pretty well and soon enough I was out on the highway (which was thankfully closed to traffic) and bombing along at 24 mph. Within the first mile I hooted out a war cry and screamed “It’s raining, and I’m racing!!” I had a huge grin on my face.
This continued for the next six miles and then a STP (Super Triathlon Person) passed me and told me my rear memory lock was loose. Huh? I looked down and back and the lock that holds my rear axle in place was indeed loose. Holy cow, that’s dangerous! I thanked the guy who mentioned it to me and immediately stopped and fixed it. I have no idea how it became loose, but perhaps the rain had something to do with it. I was back at it in less than a minute, though, and making great time, but around mile eight I heard someone coming from behind and screaming at me. I thought he said he was passing me on the right, but because it was raining so hard I couldn’t hear him that well and I wasn’t sure.
“RIGHT!!! RIGHT!!! GET TO THE F@$#ING RIGHT SO I CAN PASS YOU!!! %#$&$%!!!”
Ah, now I understood. I was riding towards the middle of the road because it was sloped slightly towards the shoulder and there was less standing water in the middle. Of course, normally I would ride more towards the right because according to USAT rules you should only be on the left if you’re passing. But at this point the course wasn’t very crowded and there was plenty of space to pass on either side. Technically, this guy was correct. I was at fault for riding in the middle. But under the circumstances (dumping rain, not crowded), his behavior was really shameful. I mean, he could have asked nicely. So I moved to the right and he passed me while continuing to swear at me. I thought about speeding up to him and getting his number so that I could report him (he would have been disqualified from the entire race), but figured his life was probably a trainwreck anyway and his bad karma would play out in other ways. The irony of the situation is that after he passed me he only stayed ahead of me by 10 yards or so. I would have easily passed him if my luck had been better that day.
That experience really left a bad feeling in my stomach, and was especially jolting after the good sportsmanship displayed by my colleague who alerted me to the loose memory lock. As I sped along in the rain I thought a lot about people and their behavior. Why are some people so ungracious? And why is it that one’s personal demeanor may or may not bear any correlation to one’s accomplishments in other ways? This guy was clearly a real jerk, but maybe he spent his days as a pediatric surgeon saving children’s lives. Or maybe not. Maybe he was a greedy Wall Street lawyer whose only God is money. Who knows. But the first scenario isn’t improbable. Over and over again I meet people like that, especially in the arts. They’re good at what they do, and contribute greatly to the overall human project, but in terms of human relations they’re selfish, ugly, and abusive.
These thoughts occupied my mind as I kept speeding along through the dumping rain. I made the second turnaround and then something on the bike felt strange. I felt the rear tire slipping a bit. I had hit a big pothole about a half a mile back and I knew immediately what had happened. I had a flat tire.
With a groan and a sigh I pulled off the road and surveyed the damage. Yep, flat tire. I turned my bike over and took the wheel off. I found this easier to do if I took my glasses off, as they were so wet I could see better without them on, despite my nearsightedness (the wet glasses were problem when I was riding, too). I had changed one of my tires before, but doing it in a dry basement was a lot different than in the pouring rain on the side of a road. As the summer has progressed and I haven’t suffered a flat tire I keep thinking that I should take a day and change a tire a few times just to practice, but I always procrastinate on that aspect of race preparation. It’s much more fun to ride the bike than to fix it. That line of thinking is a mistake and it cost me this race.
Fortunately I was smart enough to be carrying a spare tube and a CO2 cartridge. It took me a long time to get the new tube and tire reseated, much longer than it should, but after mucking with it for 15 or 20 minutes I finally got it. Then I took out the CO2 cartridge. It took me a minute to figure out how to work it, but once I did it worked fine. The only problem was that I hadn’t seated the inner tube perfectly and there was a bulge that popped out when the tire inflated. But that was it. I didn’t have another CO2 cartridge.
Between the rain, the unsportsmanlike behavior I described earlier, and the flat, I was pretty discouraged, but during the time I was fiddling with the tire at least 20 people rode by me and asked if I needed help. That cheered me up considerably and improved my opinion of my colleagues a great deal. I politely refused their offers as I was determined to fix it myself. But after screwing up with the first cartridge and having no extras I realized I needed to accept some help.
“Need any help?” asked an older gentleman riding a Specialized.
“Yes! Do you have any extra CO2?”
“No problem,” he said as he pulled over. I ran up to him and we got it out of his bag. I took note of his number and thanked him profusely.
“No problem, and good luck,” he said as he sped away. Between stopping and the fact that we were at the bottom of the hill he must have lost at least a minute or two of time.
Unfortunately, though, this cartridge didn’t work that well. I couldn’t get it to release enough air, so even though I now had the tube seated correctly it never inflated properly. I didn’t feel right about stopping yet another racer, so I decided then to call the race. I had spent at least 30 minutes or so trying to fix the flat at this point and knew it was over. This is what it came to after ten months of training. A flat tire. That’s a hard pill to swallow.
I put the wheel back on and rode four miles into T2 at about 10 mph. Since I only did one bike loop I knew I would be disqualified from the race, but what could I do? I figured I could at least try to run hard and see how my pace was in the run and swim.
T2
In and out very quickly, no problems. The stacked brick workouts that Keith gives me are really paying off. I had no trouble transitioning into my shoes and my legs felt good going into the run.
Run
As of this morning they still haven’t posted the times to the race, so I’m not sure how I did in terms of numbers, but I felt pretty strong. 6.2 miles is a long ways for me; I’m not a strong runner. I stopped three times and walked briskly to let my heart rate settle a bit and stave off a cramp in my side, but otherwise I ran well. I find that the hardest part of the race is about two thirds of the way through the run. At that point I start feeling very tired and it really becomes a mental struggle to keep moving my feet forward. My form suffers and I know I start to shuffle, but it's tough. In retrospect, those are some of the most powerful moments of the race. Those are the moments athletes talk about when they say things like “digging deep.” That phrase is very accurate. There really is a sense that all the available reserves have been used up and you've got to look a little bit further into yourself to make it to the end. It’s very much like those epic practice sessions I’ve done in the past where I go for months putting seven or eight hours a day on my instrument, ignoring everything and everyone and pushing hard at the perceived limits of my potential.
Post race
So this was supposed to be my A race, the one where all those hours of training would come into focus and I would shine. But I got a flat tire. Even if I had known how to fix the tire better, my bike time would still have been off by at least 10 minutes or so. I thought about this a lot as I was running and I came to the conclusion that for me, there is no such thing as an A race. In my other life as a professional musician every performance is important. We have a phrase in the music community: every performance is an audition. Whether you're playing at Carnegie Hall for 2,000 people or at some dingy bar for six drunks, you always play your best. You never know who might be listening. I like to take it even further. Every musical moment is magical. Why would I ever get behind my instrument and not play every note with as much soul and depth of feeling as possible? Even in the practice room, I try to make every note I play count. And when I'm on stage—no matter where—I lay it all on the line and play as if it's the last concert I will ever play.
Triathlon is no different. I suppose if I were an elite athlete doing this professionally and I had to be careful about not straining muscles, then some races I might just cruise along and not try that hard. I would just get my body loose and ready for the big day. But I’m not an elite athlete and I never will be. I am proudly a recreational athlete and although I take triathlon very seriously, I always know it is part of the bigger picture of my life in general. So for me, every race is an A race. From the second that gun goes off I'm going to let the big dog rip and go for it.
After the race I found the race director and told him about the gentleman who gave me the CO2 cartridge. When he was making the announcements of the winners he had a special category for folks who had done some unusual things. One guy got a race belt for being the oldest guy to finish the race at 71 years old. The gentleman who helped me also got a race belt for good sportsmanship. I learned something from that. From now on I will always carry three CO2 cartridges. One for me, and at least one or two for someone else who might need it.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Xterra race report
Payton MacDonald
Trimax Xterra triathlon race report, R.B. Winter State Park, Mifflinburg, PA
Sunday, June 28, 2009
.5 mile swim, 11.5 mile mountain bike, 3.9 mile trail run
Swim: 14:00
T1: 1:45
Bike: 1:45:00
T2: 00:40
Run: 53:00
Total time: 3:01:00
(All times approximate, no chip used, some additional time getting from the swim to transition area is not recorded)
Pre race
A few months ago I was running in the woods and I realized that I enjoy trail running more than running on asphalt. The air is much better, especially in North Jersey, and the actual running is more interesting. A puddle, a log, some rocks, some smooth dirt, up hills, down hills, roots. Running on a trail is in many ways more like completing an obstacle course. You have to constantly be on your guard, eyes darting around, seeking the best course, but still looking ahead, evaluating the terrain, making choices. It’s often slower than running on asphalt, especially if the terrain is gnarly or there are steep hills, but no easier.
Even though there is some danger of twisting your ankle, my joints and legs always feel great after a trail run. I suspect this is because if you’re wearing minimal foot wear (sandals or lightweight trainers) your feet learn to feel the ground, seeking the best foot hold, stretching and grasping the terrain. I also suspect that when I’m deep in the woods and surrounded by life, literally breathing in life, I am more sensitive to my body and I listen to it better. It’s hard to feel too connected to your body when cars and buses are roaring by you on the street, belching fumes in your face and blaring their horns.
So I did a little research and found that people organize off-road triathlons, known as Xterra. There is even a governing organization, a world cup, and a magazine, all defining it as an established discipline. Some professional triathletes specialize in Xterra, others do both Xterra and regular tris. I found one about three hours from home, borrowed a mountain bike from the bike shop, reserved a bed and breakfast for me and Jessica, and started to train. Keith adjusted my training schedule a bit, adding some trail runs and giving me an exhausting day when I had to run up hills while carrying the mountain bike. Later, when actually completing the race, I would be grateful for that.
The night before the race Jessica and I enjoyed a fancy dinner and just had some time to unwind and relax. Before bed I consumed a Muscle Milk shake. Breakfast the next morning was French toast with no butter or syrup, and some coffee and water. For the race I just ate one gel tab at the beginning of the bike, but otherwise went through about half a water bottle with Cytomax mixed in.
Jessica and I walked much of the bike route the day before. I had read on the Xterra website that this was a challenging bike route, with miles of “rock gardens,” a genteel euphemism for some of the most hellish bike riding possible. That should have given me pause, especially as a beginner, but I felt confident that my experience on a mountain bike when I was a teenager would get me through it. Also, I figured years of skiing and snowboarding steep mogul slopes at Jackson Hole would help as well. Different sport, but similar reflexes and intensity.
The trail started off with some steep hills, but was otherwise comfortable enough. Soon, though, it narrowed considerably and became quite rocky. The rocks were only three or four inches high, but there were so many of them packed together—some loose, some firmly grounded, all slightly different heights— that finding a solid foot hold was nearly impossible. So much so that Jessica and I were having trouble just walking on it. At first I was cocky. I told her that it wasn’t much harder than the rides I’d been doing while training at the park near our home. But after a mile or so of ankle-wrenching rocks I lost my bluster. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I knew I could walk my bike for a lot of it, but that wasn’t easy either. After a few hours we cut off from the bike route so I didn’t see all of it. I relaxed into a pleasant evening with my wife, but those rock gardens never quite left my mind. I would find out the next day just how treacherous they were.
Swim
The swim portion of the race was set up as two quarter-mile loops, preceded by a short run on the sand. With only 57 people racing, there was only one wave. At this point in the season I’m comfortable with the swim and expected to do well. In fact, I ended up placing number 30. At not quite the half-way mark I was a little disappointed, but still not terrible. I think what got me was the temperature. Before we started they announced that the lake was 59 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s cold. For all the other tris I’ve done the water has been in the 70s or more. Of course I was wearing my wetsuit and I wore two swim caps, but the water still took my breath away. I didn’t really relax and find my groove until the second lap. But my sighting was much better. I worked hard on improving that in the last week and it really paid off. I found straight paths and didn’t waste energy zig zagging.
T1
I’ve been working on my transitions the last few weeks. This is one of the easiest ways to shave time off your race. With a little planning and a little practice, you can drop as much as a minute or two from your total time. One night last week I set a towel on the floor in the living room, with my running shoes and socks at the top of the towel. I opened up the socks to make them easier to put on, and I dusted them and the shoes with baby powder. Then I went in the kitchen and wet my feet in the sink, started a stop watch, and ran into the living room. I put my bike helmet on while drying my feet on the towel. Then I pulled the socks on, clicked into my bike shoes, pretended to grab my bike, and ran back into the kitchen. I practiced this several times and by the third time I had dropped over 20 seconds in time. My 18-month-old daughter thought this was quite funny. She kept pointing at me and giggling. Of course this didn’t account for the time to take off the wetsuit, but I’m planning on working on that in the next few weeks.
The practice paid off. I was in and out of T1 in 1:45 by Jessica’s stop watch. (The officials weren’t timing the transitions and there were no chips.) It was a huge improvement over the 2:31 the week before at Wyckoff. Without a chip there’s no way to really tell, but at the very least I felt much more confident about what I was doing it was fun and very much like moving around quickly between complicated percussion setups.
Bike
The bike portion of the race started fine, but soon enough the trail narrowed and the rock gardens emerged. In the context of a backyard, a garden of rocks could be beautiful. Elegant and serene, one can imagine passing many contemplative hours in a rock garden and in fact many monks do. But on a mountain bike on a narrow trail they are hell.
The first challenge is to figure out how fast to go. Slow speeds are actually more bone jarring. Greater speed allows you to bounce and roll over the rocks more smoothly, but the risk factor of falling also becomes exponentially greater as you go faster. One miscalculation on how high to lift your front tire or which line to take through a tangle of stones and you’re toast. I opted for the slower speed, but within 15 minutes my body was complaining. The first thing I noticed was how tired my hands were getting. I had to grasp the handlebars tightly so they didn’t jerk away from me, but without the regular shifting in pressure that goes with normal bike riding, my hands were soon screaming at me. Then it was my lower back. I knew this would happen from previous hard rides in earlier weeks, but 30 feet of rocks is a lot different than several miles. By adjusting my posture I was able to prevent injury, but it was still tough going. I might have been going too slow, but I wasn’t comfortable going faster, and to make matters worse my front forks did not have suspension. Beggers can’t be choosers and since I was borrowing the bike I didn’t really have any options, but I couldn’t help but noticing that every person who passed me had suspension on their front forks. They were also cursing, but in general glided over the rocks much better than I did. At least 20 people passed me early in the race.
After about 15 minutes of constant bumping and jerking the rocks got even worse and I was forced to dismount. I ended up carrying my bike for over a mile, as did most of the other athletes. This was tiring in different ways and really not much fun. At this point in the race I started to wonder if I would ever do an Xterra again. Barring some bad accident, I knew I would finish the race, but carrying my bike over rocks in the heat while getting eaten by swarms of mosquitos wasn’t particularly inspiring. Or was it? Writing this the next day I’m grateful for the opportunity to be humbled by the course. With the huge gains I’ve made as an athlete in the past six months from dedicated training with a qualified coach, I was starting to get a bit of swagger in my step. When I step out to run errands and see the rest of America, with huge guts and butts, waddling around, barely able to mount a flight of stairs, I shake my head and wonder how people could let themselves go like that. Don’t they care about themselves? With all our free time, getting in good physical condition is completely attainable, even for folks from poor neighborhoods. But there are levels and there are levels. I’m not 300 pounds, but I couldn’t fly over the rocks at this race. The elite athletes once again reminded me that this is an individual journey, and we each do our best. Compassion for ourselves and for others is paramount.
Eventually the rocks became more sparse and I was able to get back on my bike. But not for long. A 30-foot stretch of smooth trail would abruptly come to an end by a huge log on the path. I’d lift my bike over, get going again, and then a patch of impossible rocks would pop up. In some ways this was worse than the rock gardens as I felt like I couldn’t get any momentum going. But I plugged ahead. At one point I was crusing down a hill and I remember I started thinking about the swim. I knew already that I had come in 30 out of 57 athletes as Jessica had told me as I ran out of T1. I was mulling this over
when suddenly I was on the ground. It took me a second to realize what had happened. My front tire had hit a particularly big rock and I had flipped over the handlebars and crashed. My head had hit a rock and thank God I was wearing a helmet or I would have been in more serious trouble. I had landed mostly on my right side and my right elbow was bleeding everywhere. I felt a dull ache as I moved my leg and realized I had bruised my right thigh pretty badly. Fortunately there were no other bikers behind me at the moment, so I slowly got to my feet and collected myself.
Nothing was broken, on me or the bike, so that was good. My chain was off and there was a tangle of ferns in the rear derailler, but otherwise things were okay. The only thing that was really broken was my confidence. I took a few minutes to calm down and adjust my helmet. As I did, I meditated on the risks associated with doing triathlons.
Every year, a few people die competing in triathlons. Most of the deaths happen during the swim portion of the race, and mostly by people not wearing wetsuits who were not prepared for the race or were quite advanced in age. Sometimes people are killed while training, especially on the bike. The biggest danger is cars. I've met several people who’ve been hit. I met one woman who had even pulled off the road and was consulting a map when a pickup plowed into her, knocking her ten feet. It took her over six months to recover. Between drunk drivers, people gabbing on their cell phones, falling asleep, and just general traffic, biking can seem ludicrously dangerous. I’ve figured out ways to make it as safe as possible, riding routes with little traffic and wide shoulders early in the morning and mostly riding at a local park with virtually no traffic. Nonetheless, no matter how much I train and no matter how careful I am, there is always a risk that I will be seriously injured or killed while training or competing in triathlons.
After working for 24 years to develop my skills as a performer and composer and building a very successful career and after enjoying a wonderful 12 year marriage that has culminated in the bliss of fatherhood, is it really worth it? Is any amount of fitness or emotional development worth it? I have concluded that it is. The truth is that there are risks all around us. Statistically speaking, I am more likely to die in a car crash driving to work than I am competing in triathlons. Or, I may succumb to a terminal illness, a plane crash, an unknown allergy, murder, and God knows what else. True, not competing in triathlons reduces the risk of the swim or bike accident, but that would also seriously lower the quality of my life. As I've become more serious about the sport in the past few years, my life has improved in hundreds of ways. Although I feel pressure to take care of my daughter, I also feel it is important to provide her with a great role model. She is already her own distinct person, but there is no doubt that even at one years old she is modeling her behavior on what she sees around her. I want her to see a father who is active, courageous, and determined. I want her to see a father who takes calculated risks, and continues to grow and learn all the way to the grave. She will never reach her potential if I don't push the boundaries of my own potential.
So I dusted myself off, got back on the bike and kept going. After a few more difficult miles, things evened out and I emerged on a gravel road. The ride back to the transition area was smooth and uneventful.
T2
I racked my bike, unclipped my helmet, wrestled out of my bike shoes, whipped on my running shoes, and I was out of there in 40 seconds.
Run
I started strong and fast. My running technique has improved considerably this summer and I think I have finally found the proper footwear with lightweight running flats. As I've discussed in previous posts, my body seems to work better when my footwear more closely resembles that of barefoot running. Now that I've built some strength in my calf muscles, I can run further and stronger than ever before, with basically no discomfort.
Within the first mile I encountered an extremely steep hill. I was forced to walk, though that didn't make things much easier. By the time I made it to the top my heart rate was through the roof. The terrain was fairly manageable, however. When I caught my breath, I continued running. After some time the trail became more complicated and I had to slow down. Rocks and roots were pervasive, making it impossible to look ahead more than a few feet. This kind of running feels a bit like that drill that football players do when they are leaping through old tires that are laying flat on the ground. If you try to run normally you will twist your ankle or trip. You must shorten your stride and pick your line carefully. It's tiring, but adventurous.
At about the middle of the race there was a long slope down a paved road. In some ways the pavement was a nice break from the technical running, but I still find running down hills to be the most difficult. If I try to control my speed I end up with a jolting heel strike that is no good on my knees. If I let myself go I’m quickly running so fast that I feel out of control. Running down hills is one aspect of my running that needs more work; I haven't yet figured it out.
Towards the end I encountered one more hill. This one was much bigger than the first one, even steeper, and was made entirely of loose rocks. I looked up and actually said out loud “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I summoned the courage and began to climb. As I did, I was humbled once again, knowing that the elite athletes didn’t stop running when they hit this hill. After nearly 3 hours of intense physical effort, much of it near my lactate threshold, it seemed literally impossible to me to run up the hill. But others had done it. I pushed ahead as hard as I could.
Going down the hill on the other side was equally treacherous and slow, but I made it without incident and enjoyed the last portion of the run, which was flat and simple. One thing I remember quite distinctly was that in the last 10th of a mile as I emerged from the woods and looped around the lake where we did the swim, there were several fishermen sitting at the edge of the lake with their lines in the water. As I ran past them they each looked up at me. In my mind I was screaming “I JUST FINISHED MY FIRST XTERRA! I'VE BEEN EXERCISING INTENSELY FOR THREE HOURS STRAIGHT! I AM A FUCKING BADASS! I’M DIRTY! I’M EXHAUSTED! ISN’T THAT AMAZING!?!?” But it was clear that they thought I was either completely nuts, or they didn't care whatsoever. Some actually scowled and shook their heads.
The race had become its own world for me, a universe with its own laws, its own customs, and its own morality. By the end of the first loop of the swim I was in that world. The other athletes were competitors, but mostly they were family. We were pushing our own personal limits, struggling, with each gasping breath reaching for something that would bring us closer to something profound and real. But the rest of the world just carried on; oblivious to what we were doing. No one cared about the rock gardens or the hills on the run. No one cared.
Conclusion
Jessica was waiting for me at the finish line. She gave me a big kiss and hug and congratulated me. From start to finish, she was incredibly supportive and loving. Although triathlon seems like a solitary sport, in reality it's a team sport. Our families and friends do a lot for us, whether it's helping set up gear, making a sandwich, or just giving us the time and space to train. Jessica is a gifted athlete herself, so she understands why I do it. I'm a lucky guy.
One of the most gratifying moments of the day was shaking hands with a man who had just finished the race who was at least 70 years old (he was in the 70+ category). I know many people who are fatalistic about aging, whining about how getting older makes them weak and infirm and incapable of exercise. I hear all manner of excuses, from I don't have time, to not wanting to get germs at the local gym, to exercise is a waste of time, on and on. But this guy was at least 70 years old and it only took him 3 1/2 hours to finish the race. I found that incredibly inspiring. He looked great, his eyes were clear, he was articulate and energetic. That's how I hope to be when I’m in my 70s.
So, will I do another Xterra? Absolutely. I like being in the woods and I like the culture of the races. At least this one was much more laid back and organic than the road triathlons. No one seemed to take themselves too seriously. I wouldn’t say I like Xterra better than road races, they’re just different. Road races are very elegant and streamlined affairs, with their own beauty and logic.
In fact, I’ve registered for another Xterra at the end of August, out on Long Island. That one will be much easier than the one I just finished. For the next few years I’m going to look for Xterra races that have safer, less technical bike routes. Although I survived this race, it was really a little above my head. And I'm not going to worry too much about my times. I'm going to swim, bike, and run as best I can and feel thankful that I can breathe in that beautiful wooded air and have the inner strength to keep pushing myself.
Trimax Xterra triathlon race report, R.B. Winter State Park, Mifflinburg, PA
Sunday, June 28, 2009
.5 mile swim, 11.5 mile mountain bike, 3.9 mile trail run
Swim: 14:00
T1: 1:45
Bike: 1:45:00
T2: 00:40
Run: 53:00
Total time: 3:01:00
(All times approximate, no chip used, some additional time getting from the swim to transition area is not recorded)
Pre race
A few months ago I was running in the woods and I realized that I enjoy trail running more than running on asphalt. The air is much better, especially in North Jersey, and the actual running is more interesting. A puddle, a log, some rocks, some smooth dirt, up hills, down hills, roots. Running on a trail is in many ways more like completing an obstacle course. You have to constantly be on your guard, eyes darting around, seeking the best course, but still looking ahead, evaluating the terrain, making choices. It’s often slower than running on asphalt, especially if the terrain is gnarly or there are steep hills, but no easier.
Even though there is some danger of twisting your ankle, my joints and legs always feel great after a trail run. I suspect this is because if you’re wearing minimal foot wear (sandals or lightweight trainers) your feet learn to feel the ground, seeking the best foot hold, stretching and grasping the terrain. I also suspect that when I’m deep in the woods and surrounded by life, literally breathing in life, I am more sensitive to my body and I listen to it better. It’s hard to feel too connected to your body when cars and buses are roaring by you on the street, belching fumes in your face and blaring their horns.
So I did a little research and found that people organize off-road triathlons, known as Xterra. There is even a governing organization, a world cup, and a magazine, all defining it as an established discipline. Some professional triathletes specialize in Xterra, others do both Xterra and regular tris. I found one about three hours from home, borrowed a mountain bike from the bike shop, reserved a bed and breakfast for me and Jessica, and started to train. Keith adjusted my training schedule a bit, adding some trail runs and giving me an exhausting day when I had to run up hills while carrying the mountain bike. Later, when actually completing the race, I would be grateful for that.
The night before the race Jessica and I enjoyed a fancy dinner and just had some time to unwind and relax. Before bed I consumed a Muscle Milk shake. Breakfast the next morning was French toast with no butter or syrup, and some coffee and water. For the race I just ate one gel tab at the beginning of the bike, but otherwise went through about half a water bottle with Cytomax mixed in.
Jessica and I walked much of the bike route the day before. I had read on the Xterra website that this was a challenging bike route, with miles of “rock gardens,” a genteel euphemism for some of the most hellish bike riding possible. That should have given me pause, especially as a beginner, but I felt confident that my experience on a mountain bike when I was a teenager would get me through it. Also, I figured years of skiing and snowboarding steep mogul slopes at Jackson Hole would help as well. Different sport, but similar reflexes and intensity.
The trail started off with some steep hills, but was otherwise comfortable enough. Soon, though, it narrowed considerably and became quite rocky. The rocks were only three or four inches high, but there were so many of them packed together—some loose, some firmly grounded, all slightly different heights— that finding a solid foot hold was nearly impossible. So much so that Jessica and I were having trouble just walking on it. At first I was cocky. I told her that it wasn’t much harder than the rides I’d been doing while training at the park near our home. But after a mile or so of ankle-wrenching rocks I lost my bluster. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I knew I could walk my bike for a lot of it, but that wasn’t easy either. After a few hours we cut off from the bike route so I didn’t see all of it. I relaxed into a pleasant evening with my wife, but those rock gardens never quite left my mind. I would find out the next day just how treacherous they were.
Swim
The swim portion of the race was set up as two quarter-mile loops, preceded by a short run on the sand. With only 57 people racing, there was only one wave. At this point in the season I’m comfortable with the swim and expected to do well. In fact, I ended up placing number 30. At not quite the half-way mark I was a little disappointed, but still not terrible. I think what got me was the temperature. Before we started they announced that the lake was 59 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s cold. For all the other tris I’ve done the water has been in the 70s or more. Of course I was wearing my wetsuit and I wore two swim caps, but the water still took my breath away. I didn’t really relax and find my groove until the second lap. But my sighting was much better. I worked hard on improving that in the last week and it really paid off. I found straight paths and didn’t waste energy zig zagging.
T1
I’ve been working on my transitions the last few weeks. This is one of the easiest ways to shave time off your race. With a little planning and a little practice, you can drop as much as a minute or two from your total time. One night last week I set a towel on the floor in the living room, with my running shoes and socks at the top of the towel. I opened up the socks to make them easier to put on, and I dusted them and the shoes with baby powder. Then I went in the kitchen and wet my feet in the sink, started a stop watch, and ran into the living room. I put my bike helmet on while drying my feet on the towel. Then I pulled the socks on, clicked into my bike shoes, pretended to grab my bike, and ran back into the kitchen. I practiced this several times and by the third time I had dropped over 20 seconds in time. My 18-month-old daughter thought this was quite funny. She kept pointing at me and giggling. Of course this didn’t account for the time to take off the wetsuit, but I’m planning on working on that in the next few weeks.
The practice paid off. I was in and out of T1 in 1:45 by Jessica’s stop watch. (The officials weren’t timing the transitions and there were no chips.) It was a huge improvement over the 2:31 the week before at Wyckoff. Without a chip there’s no way to really tell, but at the very least I felt much more confident about what I was doing it was fun and very much like moving around quickly between complicated percussion setups.
Bike
The bike portion of the race started fine, but soon enough the trail narrowed and the rock gardens emerged. In the context of a backyard, a garden of rocks could be beautiful. Elegant and serene, one can imagine passing many contemplative hours in a rock garden and in fact many monks do. But on a mountain bike on a narrow trail they are hell.
The first challenge is to figure out how fast to go. Slow speeds are actually more bone jarring. Greater speed allows you to bounce and roll over the rocks more smoothly, but the risk factor of falling also becomes exponentially greater as you go faster. One miscalculation on how high to lift your front tire or which line to take through a tangle of stones and you’re toast. I opted for the slower speed, but within 15 minutes my body was complaining. The first thing I noticed was how tired my hands were getting. I had to grasp the handlebars tightly so they didn’t jerk away from me, but without the regular shifting in pressure that goes with normal bike riding, my hands were soon screaming at me. Then it was my lower back. I knew this would happen from previous hard rides in earlier weeks, but 30 feet of rocks is a lot different than several miles. By adjusting my posture I was able to prevent injury, but it was still tough going. I might have been going too slow, but I wasn’t comfortable going faster, and to make matters worse my front forks did not have suspension. Beggers can’t be choosers and since I was borrowing the bike I didn’t really have any options, but I couldn’t help but noticing that every person who passed me had suspension on their front forks. They were also cursing, but in general glided over the rocks much better than I did. At least 20 people passed me early in the race.
After about 15 minutes of constant bumping and jerking the rocks got even worse and I was forced to dismount. I ended up carrying my bike for over a mile, as did most of the other athletes. This was tiring in different ways and really not much fun. At this point in the race I started to wonder if I would ever do an Xterra again. Barring some bad accident, I knew I would finish the race, but carrying my bike over rocks in the heat while getting eaten by swarms of mosquitos wasn’t particularly inspiring. Or was it? Writing this the next day I’m grateful for the opportunity to be humbled by the course. With the huge gains I’ve made as an athlete in the past six months from dedicated training with a qualified coach, I was starting to get a bit of swagger in my step. When I step out to run errands and see the rest of America, with huge guts and butts, waddling around, barely able to mount a flight of stairs, I shake my head and wonder how people could let themselves go like that. Don’t they care about themselves? With all our free time, getting in good physical condition is completely attainable, even for folks from poor neighborhoods. But there are levels and there are levels. I’m not 300 pounds, but I couldn’t fly over the rocks at this race. The elite athletes once again reminded me that this is an individual journey, and we each do our best. Compassion for ourselves and for others is paramount.
Eventually the rocks became more sparse and I was able to get back on my bike. But not for long. A 30-foot stretch of smooth trail would abruptly come to an end by a huge log on the path. I’d lift my bike over, get going again, and then a patch of impossible rocks would pop up. In some ways this was worse than the rock gardens as I felt like I couldn’t get any momentum going. But I plugged ahead. At one point I was crusing down a hill and I remember I started thinking about the swim. I knew already that I had come in 30 out of 57 athletes as Jessica had told me as I ran out of T1. I was mulling this over
when suddenly I was on the ground. It took me a second to realize what had happened. My front tire had hit a particularly big rock and I had flipped over the handlebars and crashed. My head had hit a rock and thank God I was wearing a helmet or I would have been in more serious trouble. I had landed mostly on my right side and my right elbow was bleeding everywhere. I felt a dull ache as I moved my leg and realized I had bruised my right thigh pretty badly. Fortunately there were no other bikers behind me at the moment, so I slowly got to my feet and collected myself.
Nothing was broken, on me or the bike, so that was good. My chain was off and there was a tangle of ferns in the rear derailler, but otherwise things were okay. The only thing that was really broken was my confidence. I took a few minutes to calm down and adjust my helmet. As I did, I meditated on the risks associated with doing triathlons.
Every year, a few people die competing in triathlons. Most of the deaths happen during the swim portion of the race, and mostly by people not wearing wetsuits who were not prepared for the race or were quite advanced in age. Sometimes people are killed while training, especially on the bike. The biggest danger is cars. I've met several people who’ve been hit. I met one woman who had even pulled off the road and was consulting a map when a pickup plowed into her, knocking her ten feet. It took her over six months to recover. Between drunk drivers, people gabbing on their cell phones, falling asleep, and just general traffic, biking can seem ludicrously dangerous. I’ve figured out ways to make it as safe as possible, riding routes with little traffic and wide shoulders early in the morning and mostly riding at a local park with virtually no traffic. Nonetheless, no matter how much I train and no matter how careful I am, there is always a risk that I will be seriously injured or killed while training or competing in triathlons.
After working for 24 years to develop my skills as a performer and composer and building a very successful career and after enjoying a wonderful 12 year marriage that has culminated in the bliss of fatherhood, is it really worth it? Is any amount of fitness or emotional development worth it? I have concluded that it is. The truth is that there are risks all around us. Statistically speaking, I am more likely to die in a car crash driving to work than I am competing in triathlons. Or, I may succumb to a terminal illness, a plane crash, an unknown allergy, murder, and God knows what else. True, not competing in triathlons reduces the risk of the swim or bike accident, but that would also seriously lower the quality of my life. As I've become more serious about the sport in the past few years, my life has improved in hundreds of ways. Although I feel pressure to take care of my daughter, I also feel it is important to provide her with a great role model. She is already her own distinct person, but there is no doubt that even at one years old she is modeling her behavior on what she sees around her. I want her to see a father who is active, courageous, and determined. I want her to see a father who takes calculated risks, and continues to grow and learn all the way to the grave. She will never reach her potential if I don't push the boundaries of my own potential.
So I dusted myself off, got back on the bike and kept going. After a few more difficult miles, things evened out and I emerged on a gravel road. The ride back to the transition area was smooth and uneventful.
T2
I racked my bike, unclipped my helmet, wrestled out of my bike shoes, whipped on my running shoes, and I was out of there in 40 seconds.
Run
I started strong and fast. My running technique has improved considerably this summer and I think I have finally found the proper footwear with lightweight running flats. As I've discussed in previous posts, my body seems to work better when my footwear more closely resembles that of barefoot running. Now that I've built some strength in my calf muscles, I can run further and stronger than ever before, with basically no discomfort.
Within the first mile I encountered an extremely steep hill. I was forced to walk, though that didn't make things much easier. By the time I made it to the top my heart rate was through the roof. The terrain was fairly manageable, however. When I caught my breath, I continued running. After some time the trail became more complicated and I had to slow down. Rocks and roots were pervasive, making it impossible to look ahead more than a few feet. This kind of running feels a bit like that drill that football players do when they are leaping through old tires that are laying flat on the ground. If you try to run normally you will twist your ankle or trip. You must shorten your stride and pick your line carefully. It's tiring, but adventurous.
At about the middle of the race there was a long slope down a paved road. In some ways the pavement was a nice break from the technical running, but I still find running down hills to be the most difficult. If I try to control my speed I end up with a jolting heel strike that is no good on my knees. If I let myself go I’m quickly running so fast that I feel out of control. Running down hills is one aspect of my running that needs more work; I haven't yet figured it out.
Towards the end I encountered one more hill. This one was much bigger than the first one, even steeper, and was made entirely of loose rocks. I looked up and actually said out loud “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I summoned the courage and began to climb. As I did, I was humbled once again, knowing that the elite athletes didn’t stop running when they hit this hill. After nearly 3 hours of intense physical effort, much of it near my lactate threshold, it seemed literally impossible to me to run up the hill. But others had done it. I pushed ahead as hard as I could.
Going down the hill on the other side was equally treacherous and slow, but I made it without incident and enjoyed the last portion of the run, which was flat and simple. One thing I remember quite distinctly was that in the last 10th of a mile as I emerged from the woods and looped around the lake where we did the swim, there were several fishermen sitting at the edge of the lake with their lines in the water. As I ran past them they each looked up at me. In my mind I was screaming “I JUST FINISHED MY FIRST XTERRA! I'VE BEEN EXERCISING INTENSELY FOR THREE HOURS STRAIGHT! I AM A FUCKING BADASS! I’M DIRTY! I’M EXHAUSTED! ISN’T THAT AMAZING!?!?” But it was clear that they thought I was either completely nuts, or they didn't care whatsoever. Some actually scowled and shook their heads.
The race had become its own world for me, a universe with its own laws, its own customs, and its own morality. By the end of the first loop of the swim I was in that world. The other athletes were competitors, but mostly they were family. We were pushing our own personal limits, struggling, with each gasping breath reaching for something that would bring us closer to something profound and real. But the rest of the world just carried on; oblivious to what we were doing. No one cared about the rock gardens or the hills on the run. No one cared.
Conclusion
Jessica was waiting for me at the finish line. She gave me a big kiss and hug and congratulated me. From start to finish, she was incredibly supportive and loving. Although triathlon seems like a solitary sport, in reality it's a team sport. Our families and friends do a lot for us, whether it's helping set up gear, making a sandwich, or just giving us the time and space to train. Jessica is a gifted athlete herself, so she understands why I do it. I'm a lucky guy.
One of the most gratifying moments of the day was shaking hands with a man who had just finished the race who was at least 70 years old (he was in the 70+ category). I know many people who are fatalistic about aging, whining about how getting older makes them weak and infirm and incapable of exercise. I hear all manner of excuses, from I don't have time, to not wanting to get germs at the local gym, to exercise is a waste of time, on and on. But this guy was at least 70 years old and it only took him 3 1/2 hours to finish the race. I found that incredibly inspiring. He looked great, his eyes were clear, he was articulate and energetic. That's how I hope to be when I’m in my 70s.
So, will I do another Xterra? Absolutely. I like being in the woods and I like the culture of the races. At least this one was much more laid back and organic than the road triathlons. No one seemed to take themselves too seriously. I wouldn’t say I like Xterra better than road races, they’re just different. Road races are very elegant and streamlined affairs, with their own beauty and logic.
In fact, I’ve registered for another Xterra at the end of August, out on Long Island. That one will be much easier than the one I just finished. For the next few years I’m going to look for Xterra races that have safer, less technical bike routes. Although I survived this race, it was really a little above my head. And I'm not going to worry too much about my times. I'm going to swim, bike, and run as best I can and feel thankful that I can breathe in that beautiful wooded air and have the inner strength to keep pushing myself.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
race report Wyckoff NJ sprint tri
Payton MacDonald
Race Report
Wyckoff, NJ, Sprint Triathlon, June 20, 2009
0.5 mile swim, 15 mile bike, 5 mile run
Swim time 18:33
Swim pace 2:06
Place 277
T1 time 2:31
T1 place 213
Bike time 53:13
Bike mph ave. 19.2
Bike place 262
T2 time 2:27
T2 place 396
Run time 43:17
Run pace 8:39
Run place 491
Total time 2:00:01
Place 332 out of 744
Pre race
My goals for this race were modest. I wanted to improve my transition times, and finish somewhere in the middle of the pack by improving my run and bike times a bit.
I got up about 3:45 and for breakfast had a bowl of oatmeal, some fruit, tea, and juice. I got out of the house by 4:30 then drove to the race site and arrived at 5:15. The drive was beautiful, with clear roads and the sun coming up over the horizon. That part of Jersey is fairly wooded with rolling hills. I listened to Hindustani raga on the way there, which really focused my mind. The twists and turns of the melodic lines, teasing a resolution, but sustaining the tension, made me think of endurance racing and the way my mind dances around complete focus, often hitting it, but then sliding off in myriad directions. Complete focus is the goal, but very difficult to acheive and maintain. It is pure bliss when it happens, though. Music and athletics are more closely related than many people might think.
Swim
I ended up with a slower swim pace than my last race, which was disappointing, but I really had a hard time finding a path to swim. I ended up in the middle of the pack and it felt like I was in a school of fish running up a stream. Or a washing machine. I kept running into people, but no matter which way I turned I couldn’t find a smooth path. I stopped and started numerous times, which undoutedly slowed me down. Not until the last third of the swim did I finally find a groove. Next time I’m going to swim out to the side.
Transition 1
This went pretty well and I think at this point if I want to shave off more time I’m going to need start practicing with my shoes already mounted on the bike, and forgoing socks. I also need to practice getting my helmet on while riding the bike.
Bike
Good bike split. I cranked hard the whole time and did fine. Super Triathlon People (STP) passed me several times, but I also passed some other folks. I felt strong. My bike computer wasn’t working and I forgot my heart-rate monitor, so I was racing “naked,” with no sense of how I was doing by the numbers. In some ways that was really nice. I just listened to my body and enjoyed the wind and the air and thought about how lucky I am to be able to something like a triathlon. The night before the race Jessica and I watched Slumdog Millionaire, which is a brilliant movie, but very depressing. Since I’ve been to India twice, and the last time for almost four months, I’m well aware of the intensity of the poverty there, but it’s been a few years, and it’s easy to slip back into my privelidged life and forget. Slumdog Millionaire was a harsh reminder of how most of the world lives. There are many days when I feel that my career as a musician and my triathlon hobby is just a waste of time and money and energy. I wonder if I could be helping people in a more direct way. There is so much misery in the world. And it especially hurts to see that heaped on children, who really are innocent. I’m always able to rationalize my way out of that thinking, but maybe it’s just ennui.
Transition 2
Better than last race, but I’ve still got a ways to go. Since some of those guys are doing it under a minute, it can be done. The thing is that I ALWAYS have to pee at this transition and if I don’t then my run is uncomfortable.
Run
I cramped again, near the beginning and then at the end, but I didn’t worry about it too much. My run pace was still better than the last race, and I’m slowly but surely learning how to run. I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with barefoot running and running in sandals or other footwear. I’ve come to the conclusion that running shoes cause me more pain than they prevent, but I don’t yet have the lower leg strength to not use them. So I used them today, but my knees felt sore afterwards. That never happens when I run in sandals. Hopefully in a month or so I can just use lightweigh trainers or sandals. I actually enjoyed myself for a few minutes in the middle of the run, which is an improvement for me.
Conclusion
Some good things:
1.) Finished in the top half, which is a PR for me
2.) transition times much improved
3.) run pace improved
4.) bike MPH improved
Needs more work
1.) transitions
2.) run
3.) finding a good way to negotiate crowded swimming field
Race Report
Wyckoff, NJ, Sprint Triathlon, June 20, 2009
0.5 mile swim, 15 mile bike, 5 mile run
Swim time 18:33
Swim pace 2:06
Place 277
T1 time 2:31
T1 place 213
Bike time 53:13
Bike mph ave. 19.2
Bike place 262
T2 time 2:27
T2 place 396
Run time 43:17
Run pace 8:39
Run place 491
Total time 2:00:01
Place 332 out of 744
Pre race
My goals for this race were modest. I wanted to improve my transition times, and finish somewhere in the middle of the pack by improving my run and bike times a bit.
I got up about 3:45 and for breakfast had a bowl of oatmeal, some fruit, tea, and juice. I got out of the house by 4:30 then drove to the race site and arrived at 5:15. The drive was beautiful, with clear roads and the sun coming up over the horizon. That part of Jersey is fairly wooded with rolling hills. I listened to Hindustani raga on the way there, which really focused my mind. The twists and turns of the melodic lines, teasing a resolution, but sustaining the tension, made me think of endurance racing and the way my mind dances around complete focus, often hitting it, but then sliding off in myriad directions. Complete focus is the goal, but very difficult to acheive and maintain. It is pure bliss when it happens, though. Music and athletics are more closely related than many people might think.
Swim
I ended up with a slower swim pace than my last race, which was disappointing, but I really had a hard time finding a path to swim. I ended up in the middle of the pack and it felt like I was in a school of fish running up a stream. Or a washing machine. I kept running into people, but no matter which way I turned I couldn’t find a smooth path. I stopped and started numerous times, which undoutedly slowed me down. Not until the last third of the swim did I finally find a groove. Next time I’m going to swim out to the side.
Transition 1
This went pretty well and I think at this point if I want to shave off more time I’m going to need start practicing with my shoes already mounted on the bike, and forgoing socks. I also need to practice getting my helmet on while riding the bike.
Bike
Good bike split. I cranked hard the whole time and did fine. Super Triathlon People (STP) passed me several times, but I also passed some other folks. I felt strong. My bike computer wasn’t working and I forgot my heart-rate monitor, so I was racing “naked,” with no sense of how I was doing by the numbers. In some ways that was really nice. I just listened to my body and enjoyed the wind and the air and thought about how lucky I am to be able to something like a triathlon. The night before the race Jessica and I watched Slumdog Millionaire, which is a brilliant movie, but very depressing. Since I’ve been to India twice, and the last time for almost four months, I’m well aware of the intensity of the poverty there, but it’s been a few years, and it’s easy to slip back into my privelidged life and forget. Slumdog Millionaire was a harsh reminder of how most of the world lives. There are many days when I feel that my career as a musician and my triathlon hobby is just a waste of time and money and energy. I wonder if I could be helping people in a more direct way. There is so much misery in the world. And it especially hurts to see that heaped on children, who really are innocent. I’m always able to rationalize my way out of that thinking, but maybe it’s just ennui.
Transition 2
Better than last race, but I’ve still got a ways to go. Since some of those guys are doing it under a minute, it can be done. The thing is that I ALWAYS have to pee at this transition and if I don’t then my run is uncomfortable.
Run
I cramped again, near the beginning and then at the end, but I didn’t worry about it too much. My run pace was still better than the last race, and I’m slowly but surely learning how to run. I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with barefoot running and running in sandals or other footwear. I’ve come to the conclusion that running shoes cause me more pain than they prevent, but I don’t yet have the lower leg strength to not use them. So I used them today, but my knees felt sore afterwards. That never happens when I run in sandals. Hopefully in a month or so I can just use lightweigh trainers or sandals. I actually enjoyed myself for a few minutes in the middle of the run, which is an improvement for me.
Conclusion
Some good things:
1.) Finished in the top half, which is a PR for me
2.) transition times much improved
3.) run pace improved
4.) bike MPH improved
Needs more work
1.) transitions
2.) run
3.) finding a good way to negotiate crowded swimming field
Thursday, June 11, 2009
feet
In the past month I read Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall, and followed that up with a lot of research about running. It seems that about every ten years I encounter something that literally changes my life. In my teens it was classical music and jazz, in my 20s it was Jessica and learning how to distinguish real food from processed garbage, in my 30s I am becoming an athlete, especially a triathlete. But I'm a terrible runner, though I like it and want to get better. I've also had a few injuries from running and I'm now learning why.
McDougall started his research for the book by asking this one question: "Why does my foot hurt?"
And then other questions came up: "Why do runners in rich, technologically advanced countries like the U.S. who wear expensive running shoes have so many injuries when runners in poor countries who run barefoot or in sandals do not?"
There are many answers to these questions, but scientific (and anecdotal) evidence now suggests that one of the biggest problems is running shoes. And the "better" (i.e., more expensive and sophisticated) the shoe, the more injuries. In short, the human foot is one of the most perfect appendages in the animal kingdom. Da Vinci considered it the most perfect part of the human body. Not only is the human foot perfectly constructed for running, but to shackle it with a shoe inhibits its natural mechanics and can result in a whole host of other problems with peoples' feet, ankles, knees, and hips.
It's more than that, of course. There are problems with running on pavement, not to mention the air quality in most cities or towns. And there are problems with running to a clock and trying to set records. Some anthropologists and evolutionists now think that our ability to run long distances--and in a coordinated fashion run animals to exhaustion--may have been what allowed us to pull ahead of the Neanderthals. (Most people think they preceded us, but in fact homo sapiens evolved around the same time as Neanderthals and it has been a mystery for some time why we won out considering how much stronger and smarter they were.) One thing is for sure, though: our ancestors weren't running races on asphalt while blasting music in their ears with an ipod. And they weren't worrying too much about pace. They were listening to their bodies, running with perfect form, and running barefoot, or in moccasins or sandals.
So I've been running barefoot, in sandals, or in 10$ canvas flats (like Converse All-Stars, but not high-tops) on trails and my form has improved, I'm having more fun, and much of my hip pain has disappeared. My mileage is still pretty low, so the real test will be over the next year as I gear up for a full Ironman, but the beginning signs have been very encouraging. I'm still worrying about pace as that's a very useful part of my training, but I'm getting better at letting my body dictate my workout rather than a clock.
I'm shocked at how stupid and greedy the shoe companies have been and how gullible we Americans have been, but I'm not surprised. No matter the discipline, Americans are obsessed with money and gadgets. And our urban/suburban lives have so strongly divorced us from the reality of our bodies and the natural world that we don't even know a ruse when it's on our own foot, or blasting out of stereo speakers.
McDougall started his research for the book by asking this one question: "Why does my foot hurt?"
And then other questions came up: "Why do runners in rich, technologically advanced countries like the U.S. who wear expensive running shoes have so many injuries when runners in poor countries who run barefoot or in sandals do not?"
There are many answers to these questions, but scientific (and anecdotal) evidence now suggests that one of the biggest problems is running shoes. And the "better" (i.e., more expensive and sophisticated) the shoe, the more injuries. In short, the human foot is one of the most perfect appendages in the animal kingdom. Da Vinci considered it the most perfect part of the human body. Not only is the human foot perfectly constructed for running, but to shackle it with a shoe inhibits its natural mechanics and can result in a whole host of other problems with peoples' feet, ankles, knees, and hips.
It's more than that, of course. There are problems with running on pavement, not to mention the air quality in most cities or towns. And there are problems with running to a clock and trying to set records. Some anthropologists and evolutionists now think that our ability to run long distances--and in a coordinated fashion run animals to exhaustion--may have been what allowed us to pull ahead of the Neanderthals. (Most people think they preceded us, but in fact homo sapiens evolved around the same time as Neanderthals and it has been a mystery for some time why we won out considering how much stronger and smarter they were.) One thing is for sure, though: our ancestors weren't running races on asphalt while blasting music in their ears with an ipod. And they weren't worrying too much about pace. They were listening to their bodies, running with perfect form, and running barefoot, or in moccasins or sandals.
So I've been running barefoot, in sandals, or in 10$ canvas flats (like Converse All-Stars, but not high-tops) on trails and my form has improved, I'm having more fun, and much of my hip pain has disappeared. My mileage is still pretty low, so the real test will be over the next year as I gear up for a full Ironman, but the beginning signs have been very encouraging. I'm still worrying about pace as that's a very useful part of my training, but I'm getting better at letting my body dictate my workout rather than a clock.
I'm shocked at how stupid and greedy the shoe companies have been and how gullible we Americans have been, but I'm not surprised. No matter the discipline, Americans are obsessed with money and gadgets. And our urban/suburban lives have so strongly divorced us from the reality of our bodies and the natural world that we don't even know a ruse when it's on our own foot, or blasting out of stereo speakers.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
triathlon
Payton MacDonald Race Report
Dok and Soc Sprint Triathlon, May 31, 2009
.33 mile swim, 10 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim time: 9:28
Swim pace: 1:38
Place: 77
T1 Time: 6:00
T1 place: 267
Bike Time: 35:26
Bike mph: 16.9
Bike place: 131
T2 time: 2:18
T2 place: 263
Run time: 30:38
Run pace: 9:53
Run place: 208
Total time: 1:23:50
PRELUDE
This was my first race after my first serious season of training. After joining Team NRGY (Jason Santarcangelo, director and founder) and hiring the amazing Keith Cook as a trainer in Fall 2008 and working very hard for six months I was primed for my first race. Mind you, I had sacrificed a lot to get there, often getting up at 4:30 in the morning to get in swims, forgoing practice or composing time, and especially giving up family time. I decided to register for Belleplain, which was a sprint down in South Jersey. I got a babysitter lined up for my baby girl Madeline, and reserved a luxurious bed and breakfast for my wife Jessica and I. It was going to be the perfect weekend.
So we’re all set to go and as luck would have it about five days before the race I get a minor cut on my right foot which quickly got infected and very painful. On Thursday, just three days before the race, I was hobbling around Manhattan going to various meetings and lunch dates, in excruciating pain. There I was, in the best condition of my life, literally holding on the walls in the subway tunnels and grimacing with each step. After a full day of that I went straight to an urgent care center. The doctor was unfriendly and kept jabbing at the wound, even though she knew I was seeing stars. She prescribed antibiotics and gave me a referral for a podiatrist.
I was able to get into the podiatrist the next day. He said I had an abscess. He drained and cleaned it and looked around but didn’t see anything in there. It immediately felt much better. I asked him if I could do the race on Sunday. He said he’d prefer if I didn’t, but if I wasn’t in any pain on Saturday night to go ahead. “I know how athletes can be.”
At that point I decided to cancel the race. That was a hard decision, but I didn’t think it was wise to possibly make my foot worse and then be out the whole season. So I made the necessary phone calls and resigned myself to a few days of sitting around while my foot healed.
But the problem is that my next race wasn’t for another three weeks. After six months of training having to wait another three weeks to race was very frustrating. I was ready to go! After 20 years of performing complicated music at a high level, I know that feeling and I know how damaging to one’s motivation and passion it can be to have that taken away. I was really in a stew about it, but still wasn’t sure if I should race. By 10 p.m. Saturday night I was laying in bed, complaining about it, and Jessica told me I had “triathlon on the brain” and I should go ahead and just do the race. I wasn’t packed or anything, but figured she was right. Belleplain was too far to drive on that little sleep, so I got lucky and found the Dok and Soc triathlon just a half hour south of our house.
PRE-RACE
I woke up at 4:00 a.m., ate a bowl of cereal with soy milk, some cottage cheese, and water. I was out of the door by 4:45 and down to the race site by 5:30. (I had to get there early because I was a late registration.). After registering I got set up in a great transition spot and then went back to my car. At 6:00 I ate half of a Clif bar and a banana and then slept in my car until 7:00. After waking I ate some ginger snaps and then went for a quick five-minute jog and did some stretching.
We had a brief meeting at 7:30 and the race started at 8:00.
SWIM
In my previous two triathlons the swim was very hard for me and I averaged about 2:50 per 100 yards. But this one was much better. The entry and exit to the lake was terrible as there were many sharp pebbles and stones. Everyone was hobbling in the water. (The irony of this wasn’t lost on me given the condition of my foot.) But the water was comfortable and my new wetsuit is truly amazing. For once I don’t have to fight to keep my hips up. I was able to maintain good form the entire time, breathing bilaterally, three breaths on the right, three on the left. Jessica was watching from the shore and she said I zig zagged a bit, but I still made good time, finishing in 9:28 with a pace of 1:38 per 100 yards. That’s a HUGE improvement over last year. I owe all of my success to my trainer Keith Cook for setting up great workouts, but especially to Jason Santarcangelo and Lenore Imhof, who taught me how to freestyle swim. Six months ago I literally couldn’t freestyle more than 25 yards and now I can do 1000 without too much difficulty. Thank you Jason and Lenore!
I felt strong and confident in the water and I never panicked. My swim used to be the weakest part of my race, but today it was probably the strongest. I do need to work on my sighting, though.
TRANSITION 1
Disaster. I got out of my wetsuit pretty well but I wasted at least two minutes fiddling with my jersey. I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to get it on when my body was wet. Next time I will wear it under my wetsuit like everyone else. I also didn’t lay out my gear very well and I really paid for it. My time in the first transition was 6:00, one of the worst of the day.
BIKE
This was a tough course, with a lot of hills. I kept my effort very high through this, averaging about 12 mph up the hills and about 25+ down the hills (max speed 34 mph), and my heart rate was always in zone 4 or 5, mostly in the low 160s. (My max HR is 178, at least as of five months ago when I had a VO2 Max test.) I passed at least 20 or 25 people and was never passed myself. There was one section at the end where a bunch of us got off course, though. The course was poorly marked and this was frustrating as I lost at least two or three minutes. But still it was a good split. I felt strong and confident and all my hard work on the trainer and bike really paid off.
The bike is my favorite part of the race, and really the spiritual center for me. It’s on the bike that I usually have some time to reflect on what’s happening and what’s brought me to the race. There are moments when I’m cranking up a hill, my heart rate jacked, sweat pouring off of me, that I really see into the potential that each of us has. Like the best performances I’ve experienced with Alarm Will Sound, or as a soloist, it’s at these moments that I feel the most powerful, and yet strangely the most humble, the most connected and yet the most isolated. I’m able to see how we can make choices each day, small ones, but that accrue into a whole approach to life, really a whole life itself, and the far-reaching consequences of these choices. Do I go for a run or drink a beer? Do I continually push myself or do I rest on my laurels? But these choices aren’t made in a vacuum. We make them as individuals, but realize them as a social group. I was racing myself today, and I was also racing others. I was alone, and yet part of group producing an incredible field of energy of desire, ambition, hard work, and passion.
TRANSITION 2
Better than T1, but I still need to work on getting into my running shoes faster.
RUN
This was the hardest part of the race for me. About a third of the way in I started to cramp in my sides and it never really went away. I had the mental and physical energy to go faster, but my body just wouldn’t do it. So I was really more jogging than running. My pace was better than last year, but still needs a lot of work. I wasn’t surprised, though, as I haven’t run that much in the last few months as I was dealing with a strained IT band on my right hip. I need to figure out my race nutrition. I didn’t enjoy the run as much as the other two splits. It felt more like work. Or suffering.
CONCLUSION
In conclusion it was a fabulous day. I set a PR and really made some strides with my swim. I had fun, and in many ways it was really a beautiful spiritual experience, like playing the best music. I definitely made the right decision to do the race, despite the condition of my foot (which feels fine right now). It was a calculated risk, but I think the importance of staying mentally and emotionally focused and motivated outweighed the very slight danger of making the injury worse. I thank Keith Cook, who has been a great trainer. He’s meticulous and thorough, and also energetic and supportive. I also thank Jason and Lenore and all the other wonderful folks on Team NRGY. And of course I must thank Jessica, who is truly a gift from the Gods. The most amazing woman on the planet.
Good things:
1.) huge swim improvement
2.) better bike handling
3.) better run pace
Things to work on:
1.) race nutrition to prevent cramping in run
2.) need to do more bricks
3.) transitions
4.) take a huge nap the day before since I know I usually don’t sleep well the night before a race (I’m too excited, just like for big performances)
5.) sighting in open water swims
Dok and Soc Sprint Triathlon, May 31, 2009
.33 mile swim, 10 mile bike, 3.1 mile run
Swim time: 9:28
Swim pace: 1:38
Place: 77
T1 Time: 6:00
T1 place: 267
Bike Time: 35:26
Bike mph: 16.9
Bike place: 131
T2 time: 2:18
T2 place: 263
Run time: 30:38
Run pace: 9:53
Run place: 208
Total time: 1:23:50
PRELUDE
This was my first race after my first serious season of training. After joining Team NRGY (Jason Santarcangelo, director and founder) and hiring the amazing Keith Cook as a trainer in Fall 2008 and working very hard for six months I was primed for my first race. Mind you, I had sacrificed a lot to get there, often getting up at 4:30 in the morning to get in swims, forgoing practice or composing time, and especially giving up family time. I decided to register for Belleplain, which was a sprint down in South Jersey. I got a babysitter lined up for my baby girl Madeline, and reserved a luxurious bed and breakfast for my wife Jessica and I. It was going to be the perfect weekend.
So we’re all set to go and as luck would have it about five days before the race I get a minor cut on my right foot which quickly got infected and very painful. On Thursday, just three days before the race, I was hobbling around Manhattan going to various meetings and lunch dates, in excruciating pain. There I was, in the best condition of my life, literally holding on the walls in the subway tunnels and grimacing with each step. After a full day of that I went straight to an urgent care center. The doctor was unfriendly and kept jabbing at the wound, even though she knew I was seeing stars. She prescribed antibiotics and gave me a referral for a podiatrist.
I was able to get into the podiatrist the next day. He said I had an abscess. He drained and cleaned it and looked around but didn’t see anything in there. It immediately felt much better. I asked him if I could do the race on Sunday. He said he’d prefer if I didn’t, but if I wasn’t in any pain on Saturday night to go ahead. “I know how athletes can be.”
At that point I decided to cancel the race. That was a hard decision, but I didn’t think it was wise to possibly make my foot worse and then be out the whole season. So I made the necessary phone calls and resigned myself to a few days of sitting around while my foot healed.
But the problem is that my next race wasn’t for another three weeks. After six months of training having to wait another three weeks to race was very frustrating. I was ready to go! After 20 years of performing complicated music at a high level, I know that feeling and I know how damaging to one’s motivation and passion it can be to have that taken away. I was really in a stew about it, but still wasn’t sure if I should race. By 10 p.m. Saturday night I was laying in bed, complaining about it, and Jessica told me I had “triathlon on the brain” and I should go ahead and just do the race. I wasn’t packed or anything, but figured she was right. Belleplain was too far to drive on that little sleep, so I got lucky and found the Dok and Soc triathlon just a half hour south of our house.
PRE-RACE
I woke up at 4:00 a.m., ate a bowl of cereal with soy milk, some cottage cheese, and water. I was out of the door by 4:45 and down to the race site by 5:30. (I had to get there early because I was a late registration.). After registering I got set up in a great transition spot and then went back to my car. At 6:00 I ate half of a Clif bar and a banana and then slept in my car until 7:00. After waking I ate some ginger snaps and then went for a quick five-minute jog and did some stretching.
We had a brief meeting at 7:30 and the race started at 8:00.
SWIM
In my previous two triathlons the swim was very hard for me and I averaged about 2:50 per 100 yards. But this one was much better. The entry and exit to the lake was terrible as there were many sharp pebbles and stones. Everyone was hobbling in the water. (The irony of this wasn’t lost on me given the condition of my foot.) But the water was comfortable and my new wetsuit is truly amazing. For once I don’t have to fight to keep my hips up. I was able to maintain good form the entire time, breathing bilaterally, three breaths on the right, three on the left. Jessica was watching from the shore and she said I zig zagged a bit, but I still made good time, finishing in 9:28 with a pace of 1:38 per 100 yards. That’s a HUGE improvement over last year. I owe all of my success to my trainer Keith Cook for setting up great workouts, but especially to Jason Santarcangelo and Lenore Imhof, who taught me how to freestyle swim. Six months ago I literally couldn’t freestyle more than 25 yards and now I can do 1000 without too much difficulty. Thank you Jason and Lenore!
I felt strong and confident in the water and I never panicked. My swim used to be the weakest part of my race, but today it was probably the strongest. I do need to work on my sighting, though.
TRANSITION 1
Disaster. I got out of my wetsuit pretty well but I wasted at least two minutes fiddling with my jersey. I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to get it on when my body was wet. Next time I will wear it under my wetsuit like everyone else. I also didn’t lay out my gear very well and I really paid for it. My time in the first transition was 6:00, one of the worst of the day.
BIKE
This was a tough course, with a lot of hills. I kept my effort very high through this, averaging about 12 mph up the hills and about 25+ down the hills (max speed 34 mph), and my heart rate was always in zone 4 or 5, mostly in the low 160s. (My max HR is 178, at least as of five months ago when I had a VO2 Max test.) I passed at least 20 or 25 people and was never passed myself. There was one section at the end where a bunch of us got off course, though. The course was poorly marked and this was frustrating as I lost at least two or three minutes. But still it was a good split. I felt strong and confident and all my hard work on the trainer and bike really paid off.
The bike is my favorite part of the race, and really the spiritual center for me. It’s on the bike that I usually have some time to reflect on what’s happening and what’s brought me to the race. There are moments when I’m cranking up a hill, my heart rate jacked, sweat pouring off of me, that I really see into the potential that each of us has. Like the best performances I’ve experienced with Alarm Will Sound, or as a soloist, it’s at these moments that I feel the most powerful, and yet strangely the most humble, the most connected and yet the most isolated. I’m able to see how we can make choices each day, small ones, but that accrue into a whole approach to life, really a whole life itself, and the far-reaching consequences of these choices. Do I go for a run or drink a beer? Do I continually push myself or do I rest on my laurels? But these choices aren’t made in a vacuum. We make them as individuals, but realize them as a social group. I was racing myself today, and I was also racing others. I was alone, and yet part of group producing an incredible field of energy of desire, ambition, hard work, and passion.
TRANSITION 2
Better than T1, but I still need to work on getting into my running shoes faster.
RUN
This was the hardest part of the race for me. About a third of the way in I started to cramp in my sides and it never really went away. I had the mental and physical energy to go faster, but my body just wouldn’t do it. So I was really more jogging than running. My pace was better than last year, but still needs a lot of work. I wasn’t surprised, though, as I haven’t run that much in the last few months as I was dealing with a strained IT band on my right hip. I need to figure out my race nutrition. I didn’t enjoy the run as much as the other two splits. It felt more like work. Or suffering.
CONCLUSION
In conclusion it was a fabulous day. I set a PR and really made some strides with my swim. I had fun, and in many ways it was really a beautiful spiritual experience, like playing the best music. I definitely made the right decision to do the race, despite the condition of my foot (which feels fine right now). It was a calculated risk, but I think the importance of staying mentally and emotionally focused and motivated outweighed the very slight danger of making the injury worse. I thank Keith Cook, who has been a great trainer. He’s meticulous and thorough, and also energetic and supportive. I also thank Jason and Lenore and all the other wonderful folks on Team NRGY. And of course I must thank Jessica, who is truly a gift from the Gods. The most amazing woman on the planet.
Good things:
1.) huge swim improvement
2.) better bike handling
3.) better run pace
Things to work on:
1.) race nutrition to prevent cramping in run
2.) need to do more bricks
3.) transitions
4.) take a huge nap the day before since I know I usually don’t sleep well the night before a race (I’m too excited, just like for big performances)
5.) sighting in open water swims
Sunday, April 26, 2009
more performances
The performances of the new Smith and Morris marimba pieces went well. This time I played the ensemble version of Morris's Stream Runner, which includes solo marimba, three percussionists, and piano. In many ways, the ensemble version is much harder than the solo version. The tutti passages are rhythmically tricky and since everyone else dips in and out of the solo marimba part I really have to be on my game.
The most interesting experience came about when Smith showed up to coach me through his piece Wait. I wasn't in top form as I was pretty exhausted from a crushing touring and teaching schedule. (Also, my sixteen month old daughter has not one, but FOUR molars coming in at the same time. Forget about sleep.) At any rate, I had spent some time with Morris when I premiered the ensemble version of his piece earlier in the week and as always spending time with a composer can reveal insights about how to interpret his or her music. Bob (Morris) has an incredible amount of energy, which he can focus like a laser beam or spread into different areas. He thinks fast, talks fast, and moves fast. So we hung out, I played his piece and all went well. I had no trouble getting the hyper-energy and drama of his music across as my general state of being these days is hyper-energy and drama.
But then Stuart (Smith) showed up later in the week. After only ten minutes in his presence I realized that I was approaching his music with a Morris mind set. Stuart's energy is much different. He's a very quiet, meditative person, comfortable with silence. This shouldn't have been a surprise as I've known Stuart for many years, but it had been at least a year since we'd been in the same room. So we spent some time together (he stayed the night at my house in fact, with his wife Sylvia), and worked on his piece. The first run through wasn't very good. I could have chalked it up to exhaustion or maybe the revisions he had just sent me, but really what happened is that I wasn't yet in his world. Once I relaxed and began to settle into the silences and flow of his music--especially the conversational aspect of his rhythmic language--my interpretation improved by leaps and bounds.
This is the essence of interpreting serious music, especially new music. In a word: theater. I don't mean showy movements, I mean the ability to move between aesthetic realms--no matter how disparate--and fully embody the demands and story of the music. Method Musicking, or something like that.
The most interesting experience came about when Smith showed up to coach me through his piece Wait. I wasn't in top form as I was pretty exhausted from a crushing touring and teaching schedule. (Also, my sixteen month old daughter has not one, but FOUR molars coming in at the same time. Forget about sleep.) At any rate, I had spent some time with Morris when I premiered the ensemble version of his piece earlier in the week and as always spending time with a composer can reveal insights about how to interpret his or her music. Bob (Morris) has an incredible amount of energy, which he can focus like a laser beam or spread into different areas. He thinks fast, talks fast, and moves fast. So we hung out, I played his piece and all went well. I had no trouble getting the hyper-energy and drama of his music across as my general state of being these days is hyper-energy and drama.
But then Stuart (Smith) showed up later in the week. After only ten minutes in his presence I realized that I was approaching his music with a Morris mind set. Stuart's energy is much different. He's a very quiet, meditative person, comfortable with silence. This shouldn't have been a surprise as I've known Stuart for many years, but it had been at least a year since we'd been in the same room. So we spent some time together (he stayed the night at my house in fact, with his wife Sylvia), and worked on his piece. The first run through wasn't very good. I could have chalked it up to exhaustion or maybe the revisions he had just sent me, but really what happened is that I wasn't yet in his world. Once I relaxed and began to settle into the silences and flow of his music--especially the conversational aspect of his rhythmic language--my interpretation improved by leaps and bounds.
This is the essence of interpreting serious music, especially new music. In a word: theater. I don't mean showy movements, I mean the ability to move between aesthetic realms--no matter how disparate--and fully embody the demands and story of the music. Method Musicking, or something like that.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
triathlons and marimba commissions
Long time, no write. Very busy with concerts in China, Russia, Colorado, and New Jersey. All went well, got good reviews on all of them. I'm also busy training for triathlons. I'm up to 10+ hours a week of training now on the peak weeks. I'm a member of Team NRGY in Montclair and have been swimming with them on Monday mornings, as well as attending clinics on bike stuff. I also hired Keith Cook to be a personal trainer, which is great. He's very supportive, but pushes me to work hard. He also keeps me organized through the Training Peaks program. This year I'm doing three sprint triathlons (.5 mile swim, 12 mile bike, 3 mile run) and one Olympic (double the sprint lengths).
I've got some big concerts coming up, both on and off campus. On campus I'm premiering new marimba pieces I've commissioned from Stuart Saunders Smith and Robert Morris. These are tough pieces, but challenging and far-reaching. I'm also playing my percussion concerto (Cowboy Tabla/Cowboy Raga) with the L.A. Philharmonic in May with John Adams conducting, so I'm excited about that.
In terms of composing, I'm working on a double concerto for two percussion and Alarm Will Sound, a piece for Classical Jam, and a drumset solo for Peter Jarvis. In other news related to composing, I actually made money last year as a composer, for the second year in a row. Last year I was over $3,000. Better not quit the day job yet . . .
Super Marimba II--the new SM recording--is out on itunes now, as well as other online retailers.
Busy days . . .
I've got some big concerts coming up, both on and off campus. On campus I'm premiering new marimba pieces I've commissioned from Stuart Saunders Smith and Robert Morris. These are tough pieces, but challenging and far-reaching. I'm also playing my percussion concerto (Cowboy Tabla/Cowboy Raga) with the L.A. Philharmonic in May with John Adams conducting, so I'm excited about that.
In terms of composing, I'm working on a double concerto for two percussion and Alarm Will Sound, a piece for Classical Jam, and a drumset solo for Peter Jarvis. In other news related to composing, I actually made money last year as a composer, for the second year in a row. Last year I was over $3,000. Better not quit the day job yet . . .
Super Marimba II--the new SM recording--is out on itunes now, as well as other online retailers.
Busy days . . .
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)