Tjalling Ypma - 5/15/05

The target clientele for this race is the WWU student population, and the race is very well suited to them: the short distances, convenient campus location and low cost make it very accessible, while the possibility of racing as a relay team removes even more barriers and adds camaraderie. The result is a race dominated by novices fighting it out on mountain bikes, and their joyful sense of accomplishment when they reach their first triathlon finish line is very evident. It is a fun, low-key event, and the student organizers deserve sincere congratulations and thanks for putting on such an attractive introduction to our sport.

The race drew almost twice as many athletes this year as last year, and competition was much stronger. I was pleased to see fast folk like Harvey, Marti, Omar and Steve sign up, since that took care of any misguided thoughts I might have had about winning the race or even placing in the non-student division, and I could just focus on beating as many students as possible instead – they need to be reminded who is boss. The standard of triathlon on campus has become quite strong, largely because of the striking success of the cycling club, but the best students were not participating since they were organizing the race, volunteering, or preparing to race the collegiate cycle nationals next weekend.

The swim was in the pool in the new student recreation center, with four to a lane in each of six lanes. This necessitated wave starts, with the first wave consisting of those who claimed to be able to cover the 400m in under 6 minutes. I doubted the existence of 24 swimmers of that caliber amongst the entrants, but in the event most of those in the first wave did exit the pool in a very respectable time – perhaps the ringers from the water-polo team serving on the relay squads helped to swell the numbers. Some of the slower girls compensated for their incompetence by wearing very skimpy bikinis, a most acceptable trade-off in my eyes. Harvey provided entertainment for the masses when his pants came adrift after a hard push-off from the wall and he had to stop to restore his decency. I cheered him, Marti and Damian to the exit, then went in to begin the warm-up for my own swim in wave two.

The seeding this year (according to estimated swim times) was quite good – there was a slightly faster guy in my lane who passed me just before the halfway point, and I passed a slower guy soon after, but that was all. I took a chance by passing in mid-lane, but only the faster fellow was coming from the other direction at the time and he was obviously competent enough to avoid disaster. The slower guy’s swim eventually degenerated into an ugly cross between sidestroke and breaststroke; I was hard on his heels again by the time I was heading for the wall for the last time and I was glad that I didn’t have to try to get by his wildly flailing legs again. I think I hit my target 6:40 without trying too hard.

A trot through the rather unruly mass of spectators got me out to the bike rack and the usual unseemly struggle with socks, shoes and other stuff. I was pleased to see Holly at the rack as I was about to depart; her swimming has improved rapidly. A jog down the gravel path put me onto the sidewalk with the open road stretching ahead – bike time!

The bike leg in this race, though short, is very painful. The trouble is that there are a lot of steep little hills that push your heart-rate to the max, and there is not enough mileage between those hills to establish any rhythm and flush the burn. Add to that a succession of sharp corners and stop signs, each of which necessitates painfully hard acceleration on exit, and you have the recipe for the classic lactic acid trip. If you’re not fried by the time you are halfway through this ride, you’re not trying hard enough.

I had to deal with a bit of traffic and a slower biker or two in the first mile before the road opened up and the serious chase began, down 32nd and then Donovan. It felt good to hunker down in the aerobars again and crank the big gears. By the time I hit the little hill just before Donovan meets Fairhaven Parkway I seemed to have passed everybody who had started in my wave except for one fellow in a red shirt. I was gaining fast on him on the very steep climb up 14th when he suddenly turned around, apparently lost. “Up!” I yelled to him, pointing at the top of the hill, and he followed in my wake. I was cranking quite hard, not being excessively zealous about stop signs but being very conservative at corners where I wasn’t sure of the road surface and car traffic; this was not a race in which to take needless risks. I thought I had dropped Red till I suddenly saw his front wheel sneaking up on my right on Boulevard. I bellowed for him to pass me on the left, angry at this violation of the triathlon rules, but I guess he was just used to pack racing tactics and new to triathlon. He tucked in behind my wheel; I wasn’t too worried since I was pretty sure I could blow him away on the hills.

I started passing the tail-enders of the first wave on the hill past the Armory, and went by a few more on the hard climb up Laurel and Garden Street. The flat stretch along South Garden always makes me nervous, with cars parked down its length and many driveways, any of which could disgorge a distracted driver with cell-phone in one hand and coffee in the other never suspecting that 180 pounds of adrenaline-crazed biker is hauling ass at 30mph down the quiet residential street. And yes, I know we were supposed to obey all those traffic rules, including the speed limits, but what could I do without a speedometer?

Red was still hard on my tail over 15th and then along Mill, mostly because of my caution in the scary urban environment. I turned up the heat on the last climb, up 21st, but just as Red fell away I heard the ominous sound of a disk wheel gaining on me. Sure enough, the familiar figure of Omar showed up on my shoulder – the man swims like a brick but he can ride like a rocket. For some reason he faltered slightly at the top of the hill so I wasn’t far behind by the time we skidded to a stop and run back up the gravel into transition.

It didn’t take long to pass Omar on the run; my impression that he was just ambling along was confirmed long after I was done when he finally jogged to the finish in the company of Austin Clevenger (the youngest finisher) and his dad Jim, conversing amiably. Shortly after passing Omar I was myself passed by Glenn, who was really flying. Glenn told me later that his goal had been to keep me in sight on the bike, which was flattering to hear though I was a lot less happy to note that he had succeeded in that aim.

I was about to turn up the nasty little hill to the arboretum when Damian came roaring down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, heading for the finish with Steve 20 meters behind in hot pursuit. Harvey was not far behind them but the overall win was already clearly out of his reach. I could only high-five them as they went by. As I struggled up the steep grade I saw Red and a lanky orange skinsuit catching up on me; the skinsuit soon passed but Red took a surprisingly long time to come by. In fact I was able to keep him in sight all the way to the finish, helped by the fact that he briefly got lost again mid-campus.

The steep down-and-up loop around the Viking Union and Performing Arts Center was a fun workout, just chasing Red as hard as I could and holding off two more young fliers as long as possible. My brain must have turned to mush by the time we were dashing down the road by the arboretum, because I remember seeing four figures ahead and thinking I could probably take a couple of them, since they were probably tail-enders from the first wave. It was only when I saw that I was making no inroads on their lead that I finally realized that they were the guys who had just passed me – the two youngsters, Red and the orange skinsuit were lined up in row astern and fighting it out for finish line honors.

Once out of the arboretum I could see that there was nobody within easy striking distance behind me, so I didn’t have much pressure over the final stretch. It was a nice change to finish with a loop of the race track, though the narrow access gate might have been a problem if there had been a close race. Due to the wave starts there were already a considerable number of people at the finish line, which made for a nice noisy welcoming committee cheering me on down the finish straight and under the flags arching over the end point.

I enjoyed lounging about after the race, swapping experiences with my racing buddies and watching the students bringing it home; there were a lot of supporters and even quite a few parents on hand to see their off-spring finish their first tri. The awards ceremony was also fun, thanks to a very boisterous audience. Though I never got anywhere near the podium the prize I drew in the raffle was just as good as anything I would have won by a better finish, so I went home entirely satisfied and pleased to have been part of this worthwhile event. It didn’t hurt that I beat the student who had snatched first place from me in the sprint to the line last year.

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