THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 03, 2009

Saturday, August 29, 2009, Montrose Harbor, Foster Avenue Beach, Chicago's lakefront. Chicago Supersprint Triathlon.

750 adults and what seemed like thousands of kids with their parents teemed the area. Many mountain bikes and people dressed in non-tri gear mixed in with experienced triathletes and great gear. I had never done such a short race, but I was looking forward to going all out in the opening act of my Chicago Triathlon Triple Challenge. The water was in the mid 60s and a little choppy, and I was making it a sans wetsuit swim because with my over tight wetsuit the race might be over before I got it off!

Being old and in the triple I racked right next to the swim entrance, sorted my gear and walked to the beach, a bit cold in the unseasonable 60 degree air. I waded in, slowly getting used to the water, and then dipped myself and lined up when we were called back. Cold! Our wave was a mix of older people and high school boys, with maybe one-third first time triathletes, lined up in wave 2.

After a short course talk wave 1 was off with a bang. The course looked ridiculously short, a 375 meter loop parallel to the beach in which the water got no more than 5 feet deep. When our wave was sent off I took off down to the water chasing the boys, and then running in the water to the buoy line. I swam several strokes and quickly realized between the shock of the cold water and my over elevated heart rate due to the sprint I could not breathe properly. I did a lifeguard/water polo heads up swim for a bit and tried again but I was still out of synch, so I said the hell with it and walked some more, as most other people were still doing. Finally I brought my heart rate down and quickly swam the buoy line, flipped back and reswam it the other direction, turned into the beach, and ran to my bike. 8:16 swim.

T1 was zippy with no wetsuit to deal with, like the old days. I ran my bike out. 1:33 T1. I mounted and took off on the three loop, again ridiculously short 10k bike. One guy passed me on the first loop and I passed everyone else. No one passed me on loop two. On loop three some young studs from a later wave worked by me; I was pretty flat out at that time so I could not hold them off. I was working so hard, though, and then I hit a pothole that I thought might have flatted my back tire, that I lost my bearings momentarily and rode past the bike course exit and had to double back. I wondered if that cost me anything? 21:30 bike.

T2 went quickly, though it was a long run with the bike (3:24) and I ran out of transition to the cheering voice of friend Karl Zwolfer, who was working the Fleet Feet water stop. I got up to speed (such as it is for me, being injured) quickly and my achilles was numb from the cold so I could maintain a decent ~8:15 minutes a mile pace for the 1.55 mile run. I passed a bunch and was passed by fewer people. I felt good and was reminded how much I like being able to to push my limits in a shorter race. This was fun. I pushed through the finish line with a 12:45 run leg. Good!

Post race I ate and drank, chatted with Karl and packed up and put my gear in the car. Then I worked the water stop with Karl and really enjoyed watching all the kids tear out of transition on to the run. The future of tri is secure, I can assure you, with such an enthusiastic and talented group of kids entering the sport. Finally I went to the awards ceremony and realized I'd missed most of it. But when I asked about my age group I was told I was third and got a winner's medal, two sports bags and a gift certificate. Cool!

Sunday, August 29, 2009, Monroe Harbor Yacht Basin, Chicago's lakefront. Chicago Sprint Triathlon.

5:00 a.m. I crossed Lake Shore Drive and was part of an army of 8,500 triathlete ants who converged on the world's largest transition area in what seemed like the dead of night. I stopped and got body marked with "Triple" on each arm and "T" on each calf. It felt as if I were part of an elite unit, like the Army Rangers must feel in uniform.

At the entrance to transition the hordes were directed up and over the hill to the racks while we triples were directed forward along the path...right to the two wave 1 racks, which were just next to the swim entrance and run exit. Great spot! We triples chatted and joked that we were crazy, which was somehow comforting. A triple athlete dressed as Wonder Woman announced it was her birthday, so we had fun with that. I made sure to fully lub myself, in hopes I could actually get my wet suit off faster than I could eat a ham sandwich, which is never the case.

I methodically finished my preparations and began the march to the swim start a half mile up the waterline, with a stop at the port a potty. I was momentarily transfixed by a blazing deep red line that appeared across the crack between the water and the cloud mass on the eastern horizon. As I slowly worked my way among the thousands of triathletes I realized that my progress was slow and the clock was ticking. Being in wave 1 has its advantages, but one is not an excess of time before race start. I picked up the pace and pulled up my wetsuit as I went. I pushed through three waves already lined up and ducked under the rope separating our wave in the start area from the others. I had a guy zip me up and did the same for someone else.

My friend Todd Busteed was the announcer, above us on the platform. He spotted me and made sure the entire world knew that Lee Crumbaugh, 10 time Ironman Canada competitor from Glen Ellyn, Illinois, was in the wave with the other people taking on the triple challenge. No pressure there, right?

Then the countdown started and we walked down the steps and jumped in. I fiddled with my watch as we treaded water, and with the horn sounding we started the 750 meter sprint race swim. This was the best swim I have had at Chicago (having done the race maybe five times in the 1990s before I moved up to Ironman) because for much of the swim our wave had the water to ourselves. Even at 66 degrees it did not feel cold and though there was a breeze from the north it was light so the water was pretty flat for Lake Michigan.

I got into a good rhythm and maintained it throughout, concentrating on form, which I knew would help my speed. Off and on I would bump lightly or brush with other swimmers, but this was nothing like the melee at a mass start Ironman. It was odd swimming in the nearly pitch black seeing shadowy figures crowded on the water's edge cheering for us.

Soon enough I spotted the big orange buoy at the lit spot where we exited the water, turned into the stairs and was pulled up by two helpful volunteers. I had planned to stop there and pull off my wetsuit so I would not have to run a quarter mile in it, but it was still cool and the grassy area was not very accessible, so I ran with it on. The carpet was welcome to my tender feet and then we could run on grass, so my dread of this long barefoot T1 run was lessened. About halfway I was cheered by my Glen Ellyn tri friends, who had much later waves, which was great.

I entered transition right to my rack, and, indeed, could have eaten a ham sandwich by the time I finally struggled out of my wetsuit. I pulled on my bike gear and clipped on my number, grabbed my gel and pulled my bike off the rack. I ran it up and over the hill and along the full length of transition to the bike exit.

Mounting was not a problem and then we rode up the ramp and onto Lake Shore Drive heading north across the bridge over the Chicago river. It was pretty bumpy through the S curve and along Oak Street Beach, but soon I was down in my bars and cranking it up.

Again, since we were the first wave, there were only some of my Triple friends and the fastest wave 2 people on the course. It was not crowded and I could hang at the outer edge of the inside of the two left lanes that we were ceded for the race. The breeze was a limiting factor but it was hardly as strong as the wind at Steelhead a month earlier. Besides some bumps and potholes (which I avoided), the ride was smooth and I could stay down in my highest gear, cranking up the small hills still down in the aero position but moving down a couple of gears. I was steadily passing my wave mates and the wave two people who were faster swimmers. This was great! All the fast intervals I had been riding this summer with Brad Webb and others were paying off. I had decided to approach this race as though it was the only one I was doing for the weekend, come what may, so I rode hard.

Then we turned back south just north of Foster Avenue (why did this look familiar?). With the breeze at my back I charged south. The second half of the bike leg went by in a blur with my ride uninterrupted, though I did note a bloodied guy standing with his bike against the median, apparently having crashed after hitting a ridge in the road and losing control. That was not pretty!

I happily noted the approaching downtown Chicago buildings including John Hancock Center and the Drake Hotel, again navigated the bumpier stretch along Oak Street Beach and then went around the S curve and up the bridge, then down it and slowing to the turn down the ramp and then made a quick right to the dismount line. That was fun!

It was a long run and people passed me as I went the length of transition and up and over the hill to my rack spot. I quickly took off my helmet and bike shoes, pulled on my running shoes and was off. That was fast for me, at least after the long run to my rack!

The run was hard off such a flat-out bike leg and my achilles and back were both a bit sore, but I was able to run 9:25 pace the first mile and maintain this to the finish. I passed and was passed equally on the run. The day, while cool, was warming up and going south to Soldier Field my sunglasses even steamed up as I rounded the Shedd Aquarium. I ate one gel and grabbed what I thought was water. Gatorade. Oh well, it was still liquid to help the gel go down.

After the aquarium we actually ran up a pretty good hill and I pretended to crab to the spectators that there could not be hills on the lakefront path! After the turnaround the breeze was in our faces and it felt good.

I kept my pace steady and in what did not seem like a long time we went back, ran down the hill (that was better, I joked to the same spectators), around the aquarium and ran under Lake Shore Drive, up a hill and onto Columbus Drive and to the finish stretch, No sprint for me but I had a decent run finish, went under the banner and across the mats, got my medal, turned in my chip and was done. But I was not done, that was just the warm up.

I ate a banana and drank water and more Gatorade, getting slowly chilled. They gave us a towel as a finisher item, so I draped it across one shoulder in an attempt to get warmer. I did not feel too spent and felt even better after a port a potty stop. I chatted with a first time finisher who was elated about the race and that cranked me up for my next challenge.

I left transition, walked through the post race party area I knew I would see later, and slowly walked the distance back to where I had started a couple of hours earlier in the dark. Two down, one to go!

Sunday, August 29, 2009, Monroe Harbor Yacht Basin, Chicago's lakefront. Chicago International Triathlon.

8:20 a.m. At the triple bike racks I found a bunch of smiling, wise cracking competitors. We continued to nicely harass Wonder Woman birthday girl about how she was celebrating her birthday; one guy said, "Aren't you sorry you told us?" We traded comments on the two races we had done. One guy was doing the swims without a wetsuit and we queried him about how it went: cold, but OK and a fast transition. We reminded one another of gear and preparations needed for the next race and traded out chips and numbers so we were "official" for the Olympic distance. A pair of spare goggles was found for a guy who somehow lost his in the sprint transition.

I again lubed up and grabbed my wet wetsuit, goggles and swim cap, walked to the area in front of Buckingham Fountain, used the port a potty, and on the grassy area above the swim start area crowded with people waiting and watching pulled on my wetsuit and got it zipped up by a guy waiting for his later wave who was very curious about how it was to do the triple. I made my way through waves 47 and 46 lined up for the Olympic distance swim start to my wave 45, which was preparing to enter the swim start area. Then we were let into the area.

Todd the announcer again singled me out. Ah, fame! This time he noted that the Ironman Canada mass start swim had just gone off the beach in Penticton a few minutes earlier. How did he know that? (Turns out he is fixated on doing the race some day!) This was the one point in the day I thought with some regret about not being at Ironman.

The countdown started, we walked down the steps and jumped in the water. It seemed colder this time! The wind had come up, as well, so rather than trying to time my watch start to the gun while treading water and bobbing up and down I quickly started my watch ahead of the start horn. Then it was 5 seconds and then the horn sounded and we were off for our 1500 meter swim

This time around there was more contact as we swam south first, toward the aquarium. We got there speedily with the wind and chop pushing us. I rounded the orange buoy staying wide to avoid bodies and then began the longer swim leg north into the chop and wind, which meant progress was slower than it was at 6 a.m. I stayed wide out near the rescue personnel in row boats next to the moored yacht line most of the way to avoid others from our wave who occasionally stopped to sight - why not learn to sight while continuing to swim instead of presenting an obstacle to others? - and also to avoid people from earlier waves who were slowly breaststroking their way north - I find the worst kicks one gets in tri are from breaststrokers who thrust their leg out into your ribs.

I was driven off my line several times by a guy who wanted to swim northeast rather than north and then would correct back northwest, but using hard earned experience I finally just backed off a moment and then swam a bit northwest inside his northeast line and then turned parallel to the water's edge. (I had already tried picking it up and going in front of him but when I did he picked it up as well.)

As I swam steadily with good rhythm concentrating on form I reminded myself that the entire swim was only as long as the first leg of the Ironman Canada swim that I otherwise would have been embarked upon at the exact same time; this made it easier to accept my relatively slow progress north. When the orange buoy next to the finish loomed into sight I picked it up a little and started veering left as did everyone else, so a squeeze developed and feet, hands and elbows touched as we sorted out a finish order.

I swam up to the stairs and was hauled up by two wonderful volunteers, one of whom said "Don't trip!" and steadied me as I momentarily couldn't find my footing. I mounted the stairs and started to run slowly as I tried to reach the strap on my wetsuit zipper...which the guy who had zipped me up had tucked under the velcro so well that I could not reach it. Oh great, I thought, now I'll have to do the rest of the race in my wetsuit! Luckily, a competitor running by noted my struggle and yanked the zipper down as he sped past. I gave him a big "Thank you!" and began to run in earnest the long quarter mile to my bike. I ran on the carpet and then the grass to save my bare feet, hobbled across the one stony area ahead of transition and then ran to the Triple racks.

Again I struggled with my wetsuit but finally got it off, quickly donned bike gear and run up the hill with my bike...only to find they had blocked that route to the bike exit so that the sprint racers could get in and out of transition to remove their gear and not interrupt our race. Damn! So it was back down the steep grassy hill taking care not to slip and a long run all away around the transition area on the concrete path to the bike exit.

I mounted after the red line, peddled up the ramp after clipping in and was again out on Lake Shore Drive heading across the bridge over the Chicago River. I immediately noticed that the wind speed had increased significantly. I passed Wonder Woman right after the bridge and worked to get my speed up as I took the S curve and navigated over the bumps and around the potholes. This was going to be a struggle riding north twice, I thought, but knew I still had worked harder longer at Steelhead just a month earlier.

I hit it and especially pushed up the hills staying down in my aerobars. This was nothing like the challenging parts of the Ironman Canada course, but the wind did not make it easier. My bike computer registered 17-19 mph when I stole glances at it.

There were more people on the course this time around. I decided the smart way for me to ride would be to stay on the inside of the outer lane, not blocking the fewer faster riders but letting the many slower riders duke it out amongst themselves on the inside lane. Like all U.S. bikers I was conditioned to ride right/pass left but I had no problem riding left and passing right. What I did have problem with was my vocabulary: "On your left" I yelled loudly to a person on a mountain bike who wandered ahead of me in my path. The biker moved back in, but as I passed I had to correct myself: "Oops, Sorry. I meant on your right."

The course was pretty crowded on this loop, but my positioning strategy worked and only rarely did I have to change my path. I could stay down and focus on speed. I was gearing down more on the small hills than I had previously, a wind effect.

I passed the Wilson exit and then soon up came the Foster turn-around. Carefully I navigated the median cross over, let a couple of guys who'd I just passed repass me as I reestablished my tempo...and flew! Wow. This was fun. No wind noise and the speedometer was registering 25-27 mph. Cool! I ate up many, many bikers including the guys who had passed me at the turn around and immensely enjoyed pedaling flat out on the quick trip south; after the race I saw on my bike computer that I had hit a max of 31 coming down one of the mini hills.

I slowed after renegotiating the S curve coming south and crossed over before the bridge to repeat the lap. The wind was even a bit stronger now, but the course was less congested. Only a few riders passed me either direction. Again I loved flying back, this time one last up and down over the bridge and then slowing for the hard left to the down ramp and then the right to the dismount line.

I hopped off and made the long run across the timing mats and around the whole of transition back to my rack spot. T1 was long because of the run but uneventful and I quickly got rid of my helmet, swapped out shoes and took off through the run exit, cheered by the officials monitoring the transition.

Not surprisingly, as a result of my two previous races and how hard I had hit the bike my legs were heavy, my back was stiff and my left achilles was barking at me. I pushed on as best I could, knowing from long experience that this should be the slowest point of the 10k run and that my legs and back would loosen up.

The spectators were thick along the mixed concrete and grassy path we ran on along the lake and the encouragement and applause were uplifting. Damn, I can do this, I boosted myself. But it was hard... At least the sun was out and it was not at all hot, though I was sweating from effort. My heart rate was around 140, not particularly high for this kind of tri run, a sign that I was being limited by bike legs and achilles.

The first mile marker came up and I checked my watch: 10:09. Hardly the 8:30 pace I had run the day before. I grabbed a gel and water this time at the first stop but kept running. We went around the aquarium point and then wound up the hill and passed Soldier Field. This was tough but I knew I could manage it.

I encountered friends Kevin and then Diane running the other way. It looked like Diane in a later wave would be able to pass Kevin by the finish (which I subsequently learned happened).

Mile two was 10:00. I consoled myself that even with my slowed run pace I had already done 3/4 additional to what most of the other racers had taken on. It was a beautiful day for a run south along the lake away from the wind, but this felt like a long trek... My legs were loosening up, though.

Friend Soni passed me coming the other direction, looking fresh, certainly better than I was looking. Good for her! Finally mile three appeared: 9:35. That's better! My heart rate was coming up a little, in the mid 140s. We went even further south, well past McCormick Place. Where the heck was the turnaround? I wanted it, I needed it! Then it popped into sight and we swung around north, into the wind, which felt good but make the running a little tougher.

Mile 4 was 10:08. That was into the wind and it was strong. The course now took us back past Soldier Field. I worked even a bit harder and in Mile 5 had brought my pace back to 9:47. OK!

But then up and down the one significant hill and around the aquarium point yet again I certainly was feeling the cumulative effects of the weekend and its impact on my legs and achilles. Mile 6 was 9:55, but the end was just around the corner! I seemed to be able to sprint a little better to the finish mats than I did in the previous race. The last 0.2 was 1:46.

Todd the announcer had moved to the finish line and of course he again singled me out, Lee, the 10 time Ironman Canada competitor has just finish the triple challenge, folks! I raised my arms and smiled. Not bad having a personal announcer!

I grabbed my medal and had my chip removed, thinking, yes!, I did the Triple! That was kind of cool...

Behind the finish area were booths and stage with a band playing. I found my Glen Ellyn tri friends there and learned all had had good races and both Margaret Ford and Brigid Webb had placed their in their age groups and had qualified for Nationals. Good for them!

After eating and good conversation, I then trudged back to transition, parting from friend Kevin at a corner. He could see how hobbled I was by my sore achilles and I know was concerned. But I was not at all concerned. I had used and abused my body and was still upright and lived to race another day.

At the Triple racks others were packing up their gear and we all seemed to have enjoyed the weekend. After stowing my gear and bike in my car I returned to the stage area for awards. Todd teamed with the other race announcer to give them out. We cheered Margaret and Brigid and consoled Brad who just missed out on a Clydesdale medal. I learned that the Triple results would not be available that day, but that mattered not. I had finished and was upright and smiling. Three races, two days, one podium. What more did I need?