Tjalling Ypma - 10/8/07

The layer of snow on my car was definitely not what I had envisaged when planning to pre-ride the bike course the day before the race. Fortunately I knew that it sometimes gets cold at Lake Tahoe, so I had brought suitable clothing and was swathed in layers of polypro by the time I set out on the trail. It was actually a gorgeously peaceful day, with the howling wind of the previous afternoon having dropped and the sun just peeping out above the mountains. My new tubeless Pythons crunched into the crisp surface layer as I cut the first tracks of the day up the Tunnel Creek climb. The snow was easier going than the soft sand that lurked here last year; combined with my familiarity with the course and the lack of haste I felt quite relaxed when I finally topped out at the start of the Flume Trail, after 3 steep miles and 1500 feet higher than where I had begun. The air was crystal clear, not a sound other than that of my own progress was to be heard, and the views over Lake Tahoe with its bright blue water reflecting the surrounding snowy peaks were stupendous. One daren’t admire the view while riding the Flume, since there are spots where one small error would result in a fatal fall off the narrow ledge and down the cliff, but I paused several times to absorb the atmosphere and revel in being in this fantastic place and traversing the pristine snow. Only when I got towards the back end of Marletta Lake did I encounter another person, going the other way, and his tracks were all I had to follow as I climbed through the snow onto the Rim Trail and over the summit of Marletta Peak at around 8700 feet. Then it was down through the snowy forest, rock gardens and icy switchbacks on my way back to the top of Tunnel Creek and the plunge back down to the lake. The technical sections seemed much shorter and easier than they loomed in my memory, I hardly noticed a few parts that had frightened me last year, and I had a big smile on my face as I rode easily down the hill and back to base. What a fantastic ride !

Race day dawned clear, snow-free and relatively warm. I wore my neoprene cap for the swim but the water was certainly no colder than my recent swims in Lake Padden had been. My last swim at altitude had been a disaster, and I was just pack-fill for this race, so I was content to let the speedsters go and set out at the tail end at my own leisurely pace. Things went fine for a few hundred meters, when I again began to feel uncomfortable in the water. It was back to the painfully slow breaststroke / backstroke mix of last time as I struggled through the first lap. The fact that I was by no means last tells me that Xterra swimmers are even worse than triathletes in general; after all, this was the national championship! After the short beach run I got back into the water for the second lap and inexplicably felt much better; I stuck my head back under and swam a steady crawl that was just good enough to bring me back onto the rear end of the pack. I was very relieved to have overcome the mental block that had hindered me and I began to enjoy the day.

I stripped my wetsuit off right on the beach, slipped into sneakers for the long jog into transition, and had passed quite a few folk by the time I got onto the bike and toiled up the road towards the mountain. I paced myself carefully up the length of Tunnel Creek, even walking two short steep stretches, since I knew I could not afford to expend too much energy and get my heart-rate up too high this early in the race. I noticed both here and elsewhere that most of those who chose to ride up such steep sections had to stop for a break at the top; my walking speed was hardly slower and I felt fresh at the top so I left many such seemingly-stronger folks behind. I felt good when I got to the top of the climb and accelerated onto the Flume. Having ridden it three times before it now held little fear for me; I sailed along its smooth flat length at a brisk pace, with several riders politely moving over to give me space, until I got behind a fellow moving at a similar speed who allowed me to sit on his wheel as we flew through the last two less tricky miles together. No time to admire the view; I had to hump the bike over the rocky bit at the end and past my lead-out man to the little climb up to Marletta Lake, then tore along the easy double-track that contours around the back before commencing the climb to the Rim Trail.

This second climb of the day is the worst part for me; it is much shorter but steeper than Tunnel Creek, and even pushing a bike up on foot is very hard work. Once again hiking proved to be better than biking and I dropped another handful of souls at the crest. The ride is much more fun from that point on, with lots of single-track, initially winding up to Marletta Peak in a fairly moderately angled but sustained climb. I was disappointed to note how much lactic acid had already accumulated in my legs despite all the climbing I had done in training, and my progress up the hill was not as swift as it might have been. Once over the barren top, where a very cold wind made loitering unattractive despite the expansive views, I stepped on the gas and flew through the next few miles of relatively easy flattish single-track dotted with large rocks to keep you on the alert. In one rocky section I passed John Coffey, who beat me here by about 30 minutes last year but now seemed to be having troubles with his new 29er. Soon I was into the succession of switchbacks sweeping smoothly down the hill, feeling good even in the steep rough corner that ate numerous bikers last year and had just claimed another victim as I dropped through it this time, and then I was doing the high-speed plunge back down steep Tunnel Creek Road with a judicious mix of haste and caution. I used these last few relatively easy miles to consume a fair amount of liquid; I had neglected my nutrition last year and suffered for it, so this year I carried Gatorade in a camelback to ensure I stayed hydrated. That worked well, I was able to drink without taking a hand off the handlebars, making it much safer to drink regularly, and accordingly I felt much better throughout the race.

As I moved through transition I heard the announcers welcome the winning woman over the finish line, and was pleasantly surprised to hear them say she had just broken 3 hours. I was not wearing a watch so until them I did not know how I was faring, but it was now obvious that I was at least 20 minutes ahead of the previous year and certain to break 4 hours. I felt good as I set off on the run at a modest 9-minute-per-mile pace. The course seemed more fun this time than last year, with lots of little turns through an open forest, but it lacks the climbs I feel a real championship course ought to have. Despite walking through every aid station to consume a few mouthfuls of drink I found myself passing quite a few other runners. The finish line clock at the end of my first lap told me I had taken about 27 minutes, and I knew I could negative split this thing. John Coffey, who is an excellent runner, passed me about a mile into lap two, spurring me on to keep him in sight the rest of the way. I pushed it over the last mile, teetered across the logs on the last two creek crossings, and came home just behind him in 3:53:21; about 27 minutes faster than last year. Knowing I had screwed up the swim and gone fairly easy on the climbs told me that I could easily knock another 10 minutes off that time, so I’m really looking forward to next year in my new age group, racing much harder in this beautiful place.

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