Kyle Yost

Le Tour 2007 - Stage 16 to 18

2007-07-18T17:25:00.000-04:00

It's in the bag now! All the big stages are done with only a 35 mile time trial and a celebratory ride into Paris remaining.

Stage 16 was a killer in the Pyrenees, the last day in the mountains. At 136 miles and 17,000 feet of climbing it was a test for all of us, but Amy, Mark, and I conquered. The rest day and cooler weather than Stage 15 surely saved me. Stages 17 and 18 were annoyingly long and annoyingly hilly; I think we had it in our minds that we just had easy rolling into Paris left. But we got through and the end is now in sight.

Mark has been doing such a good job with the Tour blog that I defer to him for more descriptions and excellent pictures.

http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

Le Tour 2007 - Stage 15

2007-07-15T07:46:00.002-04:00

Stage 15 - Foix - Loudenvielle - 124 miles

Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

Stage 15 is the queen stage of the 2007 Tour de France. This is the stage the tour organizers have chosen for the Etape du Tour, a hugely popular amateur event where riders get to ride generally the toughest stage of the tour. This event would be two days after we ride the stage, but our campsite was crawling with cyclists working on their bikes and generally getting nervous. Stage 15 is daunting indeed. It includes five major passes, two Cat 2, two Cat 1, and one HC. While climbs are categorized on many factors including grade, height gain, and placement within stage, as a general rule of thumb I've learned that Cat 2 climbs tend to gain between 2000 and 2600 feet, Cat 1 climbs, between 2600 and 4000 feet, and HC climbs more than 4000 feet. And while we had 5 serious climbs on this day I also noticed on the profile that 4 of them occured in the second half of the ride. So, I knew this day was going to be a killer. And it was! My legs were tired from the start and the first Cat 2 climb, the Col de Port, was a struggle. I took it as easy as I could but clearly did not have any power as I had to resort to my 34-27 gearing on a climb that was only 5-7% grade. Luckily the next 40 or so miles were mostly downhill and flat so I was hopeful my legs would come around. A quick descent past the memorial for Fabio Casartelli who fatally crashed here in the 2005 Tour de France and it's on to the second climb, the Cat 2 Col de Portet d'Aspet. This climb was steeper and entirely exposed to the very hot sun, but I found an easy pace and just spun up and over it. Two climbs down, half the distance covered, and confidence increased that I would make it. Problem is, the remaining climbs are all Cat 1 and HC. The next climb, the Cat 1 Col de Menthe, was long and steep and the sun becoming overwhelmingly hot, but again I found a slow tempo and took a bit over an hour to slog over the climb. Next up after a nice descent is the monster, the Port de Bales. This climb is brand new to the Tour de France as the backside has only just been paved for the first time. This climb is a beast and is going to wreak havoc in the race. The specs on the climb are nothing special, 19km at 6.2%, but these are completely deceiving. The first 8km are hardly a climb at all, but the final 10km rise 900 meters, so a 9% average grade over the last 6 miles. But, even that is deceiving as there are significant flat stretches in that last 10K, so the climbing seemed to be always at 11,12,13 and even higher grade. For one stretch my altimeter was pegged at 16% and 17%. Now maybe it was pegged there because I was hardly actually moving! I went slowly but was making steady progress until about 5km left to go when whatever was left in my legs deserted me. The final 5km were absolute agony. I was completely shot and 5km at >10% is an absolute struggle when you have no power to put in the pedals. Finally, I crested the summit, struggled to get off the bike (collar bone and back still make mounting/dismounting a bit of a challenge) and about passed out on the ground next to Amy, who then rubbed salt in my wounds with the comment, "That wasn't too bad, huh?". I don't know, Amy. Ask the stranger who has come over to check on me, offer me water, and make sure I'm alright. Luckily Matt and Mike (a friend of Amy's who races bikes in Ireland and joined for day) were struggling as well and I had a good 20-30 minutes to recover at the top while we waited. I was completely shot, how was I going to get up the final climb of the day, the Cat 1 Col de Peyresourde? Slowly, that's how. This final 2600 foot climb was a steady 7.5% and I just pressed on, finally getting over the top and coasted down the other side to the finish. 124 miles and 16,000 feet of climbing. Nearly 9:30 of riding time for a double century, but I completed the queen stage of the tour, although I clearly went beyond my limits. Without a doubt it was the toughest day I have ever had on a bike. Now how much of this is because of the crushing heat and the fact that my legs started the day exhausted I will never know. But at the end I was completely spent and desperate for a rest day, which luckily we now get. Without it I would not attempt Stage 16. Stage 16 is another monster, the final mountain stage, and another 10/10 difficulty rating with two HC climbs and two Cat 1 climbs, plus a steep Cat 3 thrown in for good measure, and a summit finish atop the famous Col d'Aubisque. And at 136 miles the length just makes it that much more difficult. I need a miracle on my rest day!

Le Tour 2007 - Stage 14

2007-07-15T07:46:00.001-04:00

Stage 14 - Mazamet - Plateau de Beille - 123 miles

Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

We're in the Pyrenees. I've been looking forward and dreading this for quite some time. Analysts of this year's tour route claim that the Alps stages are easier than normal and the Pyrenees stages harder than normal. Indeed, the stage ratings gave the hardest Alps stage (Stage 8) an 8/10 difficulty, while Stages 14,15, and 16 in the Pyrenees are rated 9, 10, and 10 respectively. Needless to say, I'm frightened and my legs are anything but fresh. But, we're in the Pyrenees, so let's get started. The stage starts immediately with a 2000 foot, Cat 2 climb directly out of Mazamet. Indeed, the "neutral zone" before the race even starts takes the riders about 1/3 of the way up the hill before the racing starts. Of course, it's all the same to us, the neutral zone is just a nuisance to us as it just means extra mileage. We take it quite easy and the morning is quite warm; no need for arm warmers or vest even at 7am. It appears the cold weather is finally behind us, will we miss it? The ride is beautiful, but uneventful through 75 miles where we hit the first hors-categorie climb of the day, the Port de Pailheres. This climb is 17K at 7.2%, but with numerous flat and even downhill stretches, the real climbing is actually almost always over 8%. It was on this climb in 2005 that Lance Armstrong struggled as his entire team cracked near the bottom and Lance was left isolated and T-Mobile attacked him relentlessly. I understand why Discovery faltered - despite the relatively benign stats, this climb is hard! Whenever I looked at my GPS altimeter I saw 10, 11, 12% grade. The climb was very exposed and it was very hot, the campervan reported 37C (100F). I struggled over the top, not at all encouraged that this first HC climb of the Pyrenees was so difficult and dreaded the summit finish at Plateau de Beille which would start immediately after the descent down the Port de Pailheres. The Plateau de Beille is a famous Tour de France climb that is 16K (10 miles) long and averages 8%. Considering how I felt on the 7% Port de Pailheres and that the Plateau de Beille started with 113 miles in the legs, I was quite worried. Matt called it a day after Port de Pailheres and was driving the van and he gave me a Coke about 1/3 of the way up. Unlike the Port de Pailheres the climb was a very steady grade at 8% the entire way and I found my tempo and cruised (slowly) to the top. First Pyrenean stage finished and it was HARD. Nearly nine hours in the saddle for just 123 miles. I just need to survive Stage 15 and we get a rest day

Le Tour 2007 - Stage 13

2007-07-15T07:45:00.000-04:00

Stage 13 - Albi - Albi Time Trial - 34 miles

Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

Finally, after 12 stages we reach the first of two time trials. While the pros have to race this, for us it meant a short, easy day of only 34 miles. We slept in, took our time with breakfast and getting ready, and finally headed out around 9:30. Matt had purchased one of each of the official Tour jerseys - yellow (race leader), green (points leader), white (best young rider), polka dot (king of the mountains) and we chose this day to deck ourselves out in this garb. The reactions we got from drivers and other cyclists on the road was hysterical, and we had a real blast with this stage. This time trial is going to be something special and is definitely worth watching on TV. It is far from flat, and includes a long, very technical descent that I simply cannot imagine the pros undertaking on their difficult to handle time trial bikes. And, what goes down must go up, so there is also one very good climb and it is even categorized (a Cat 4). I'm not sure how categorized climbs work in time trials as it is certainly unusual, but this climb last 1.7 miles and climbs 580 feet. It should be a very interesting time trial to watch as it is certainly unusual, and is also very, very beautiful, reminding me of parts of the SavageMan course that descend into Savage River State Forest and then run alongside Savage River.

Le Tour 2007 - Stage 12

2007-07-15T07:43:00.000-04:00

Stage 12 Montpieler - Castres - 111 miles

Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

After our Stage 11 experience of 112 miles straight into gale-force headwinds we were somewhat concerned about Stage 12's continued westerly direction. We were also somewhat concerned that this stage, like Stage 5, is considered a mountain transition stage - not really the mountains, but certainly not the flatlands. However, at only 111 miles we were hopeful for a relatively quick and mostly painless day. The first 40 miles were mostly unpleasant as we were on a pretty major road leaving Montpelier and fighting a headwind - not an epic headwind like the prior day but one strong enough to be quite annoying. However, after roughly 40 miles the winds died down as we were farther inland and the ride turned very nice and scenic as we rode through a stunning gorge. Beautiful and fun for the riders, less fun for Matt's wife Emma, the driver of the campervan, who had to negotiate the narrow roads with rock faces on either side and low rock overhangs. After two weeks of tough weather it seems we finally had gotten a break. This stretch of southern France should be unbearably hot, and that is what I had expected throughout, but on this day it was ideal cycling weather, about 70 degrees and sunny. Naturally it would not last. After 80 or so miles we headed through a national forest and into the Tarn region and climbed the Cat 2 La Jeanta ridge. As we approached the top we were riding in sunshine but through a mist - heaven! However, once over the top the mist turned into rain and we were forced to once again take out the arm warmers, vests, and rain capes. Who ever would have thought that on this stage for which "heat will be a factor" in the stage description, we'd ride into Castres all bundled up? All told, a moderately easy day and quite beautiful and scenic.

LeTour 2007 - Stages 9 - 11

2007-07-10T13:10:00.000-04:00

Pictures at http://letour2007live.blogspot.com

Stage 9, Val-d'Isère - Briançon, 100 miles

The final Alps stage and this is one I really, really wanted complete. The climb over the Telegraphe and the Galibier is an epic in cycling, and indeed, the 35km haul is rated as the #7 toughest climb in all of cycling. I was hopeful the three days of rest would cure my quad ailment.

To my ignorant eye I was hopeful the stage would not be overly brutal. It was rated only 8/10 on difficulty scale, and of 100 miles nearly 70 of that were descending. However the other 30 miles were 2 HC (hors-category or above categorization) and 1 Cat 1. So, even with 70 miles of descending in this 100 mile ride, there still were over 10,000 feet of climbing. Yikes!

The day started off straight up the HC Col d'Iseran, a 15km climb at just under 7% average grade, rising 3300 feet and peaking out at 9100 feet. This is very similar in profile to the already completed Col de Columbriere in stage 7, however the col d'Iseran about killed me. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I summitted it together in just over an hour, and then enjoyed nearly 50 miles of downhill riding. The headwind didn't even bother us as we were going down, down, down. Then it was time for the col d'Telegraphe and the Galibier. The Telegraphe is "only" a Cat 1 climb that climbs 800 meters in 12km, another climb just under 7% avg grade. Then a very short 3km respite and the 20km Galibier awaits. Oh that was brutal, as it gets steeper and steeper towards the top. I thought my 34-27 granny gear was for the steep stuff in the Pyrenees, but the final 6km of the Galibier are nearly 10% and I kept it in that 34-27 and wished I had more. Finally we went over the top and enjoyed a 25 mile descent to Briancon - in a downpour of course.

All told, it was an exhilarating day and extremely challenging. The profiles of the Pyrenean stages are very daunting. I was quite pleased that my quad held up; at a few points on both the Iseran and Telegraphe I was concerned as I could feel some pain, but it never escalated as in previous rides.

Stage 10 - Tallard - Marseille - 143 miles

We're out of the Alps! And we're rewarded with a long haul south to the Mediterranean coast at Marseilles. We've been faced with constant headwinds (usually accompanied by rain) as we've ridden south through France, so the concept of a 143 mile day straight south was concerning. But, after a long 50 or so mile transfer to Tallard we arrived at our campground to a beautiful, warm (though windy) weather. Perhaps the weather god thoughts we tried to deceive him by driving south as he punished us overnight with a massive storm and we awoke to familiar rainy weather. However, the rain only lasted for the first 30 or so minutes of the ride and then we had glorious cool weather and not a touch of breeze. For the first time this tour we made good time, averaging over 18 miles per hour and the rolling terrain was beautiful. The run-in to Marseilles includes two Cat 3 climbs, which is simply rude after nearly 140 miles. The first was nice and scenic and almost enjoyable, but the 2nd occured after we reached the Med, took a right (west) and had the pleasure of climbing the seaside cliffs straight into the prevailing winds. Ugh! A final descent into Marseilles completed a very long, but very nice stage. And, unfortunately, this was the final day for Laura, who capped an excellent week of riding with her longest ride ever.

Stage 11 - Marseille - Montpellier - 115 miles

This stage should be one of the easiest of the entire tour. At 115 miles it is relatively short and is nearly entirely flat with only one Cat 4 climb. Unfortunately our bad luck with the weather continues, and today it was the wind that turned one of the easiest days into one of the toughest. The prevailing winds along the coast are west-to-east, so we knew there was a strong possibility of a day of headwinds. But, we were not expecting constant 30+mph winds straight in our faces for 115 miles. That, however, is what we received. Well, no, that's not entirely true. The stage ended up being only about 111 miles. And for some stretches the wind was only partially in our faces and partially hitting us from the right. The gusts were bending trees, shredding flags, and shaking our bikes. After a long day of 11-13 mph riding we were happy to overshoot our exit for the campsite and were rewarded with about 1/4 mile of tailwind as we returned for the finish! This 110 mile day took as long as yesterday's 143 miler! A tough day on too heavily trafficked roads, very close to the sea, but not so close that you could enjoy it. Surely there are nice back roads to cycle on around here, but this tour stage does not use them.

Tomorrow is Stage 12. We continue west, but a little further inland so we hope the winds die down. It is a deceptively difficult stage, although short at 111 miles, and I am concerned as my quad started to act up again towards the end of Stage 11. The Pyrenees await. Stages 14-16 are monsters. I am scared.

Le Tour 2007 - Stages 5 to 8

2007-07-06T09:21:00.000-04:00

Pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/72157600685944637/

It's Friday July 6, and we are enjoying our rest day in Tignes, a cozy ski village in the French Alps. We are now in the heart of the Tour and in the heart of the mountains, and the bland, heavily trafficked stages of England and Belgium seem like ancient history.

Did I make some comment in my last post about having ridden out of the worst of the cold and rain? Well, I take it back. I was fearing scorching temperatures approaching 100F, but I have learned my lesson. July in France apparently means heavy rain with temps in the upper 40s to lower 50s with strong winds from the south. Oh, and we're riding from north to south, of course.

Stage 5 - Chablis - Autun; 115 miles
Stage 5 was a 115 mile day (120+ after all of our inevitable miscues) through the Morvan National Forest, and it was absolutely stunning! Between cloudbursts there was the occasional sun and numerous chateaus as we rode on remote roads through the beautiful forest. This stage had the first real challenging terrain of the tour as we encountered 8 categorized climbs, including the first Cat 2 of the tour. The constant headwinds and frequent rainshowers were not enough to diminish the euphoria of such a beautiful ride, and this stage will be an interesting one to watch on tv as it will likely be the first stage with some excitement and something other than a bunch sprint finish. The final Cat 3 climb of the day occurs just 5 downhill miles from the finish so there is certain to be some shakeup. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I rode this stage together while Matt went ahead at one stop and we never saw him again. A solo breakaway that stuck. Of course, his GPS showed 13km short, so perhaps he found a shortcut.... :) A troubling development began for me somewhere in the final 1/3 or so of the ride as my right quad started to pain me somewhat, but not so much that I gave it a 2nd thought. By the final Cat 3 climb near the end it was becoming quite painful, but by then my mind was on the approaching finish so I thought little of it. All told, it was a great day - 120 miles and 11,000 +/- feet of climbing, and the back has definitely improved and the collar bone is giving me little trouble.

Stage 6 - Semur-en-Auxois - Bourg-en-Bresse, 125 miles
Did I mention the wind was from the South? Well, to add insult to injury we had to drive 50 miles north to the start of stage 6, just so that we could get hammered by the same headwinds even longer. Everything that made Stage 5 enjoyable was lacking in Stage 6: the occasional sunshine, quiet roads, nice scenery, scenic categorized climbs. We started out in the cold rain, taking turns pulling into the headwind. Within 5 miles Laura had a puncture which we struggled to change with shivering hands. By 10 miles my sore right quad muscle had reappeared and I recall thinking that it was going to be a long day. By 20 miles the quad was more than an annoyance, it was legitimately painful and I was starting to clearly favor my left leg while pedaling. At this point I was happy to have skipped Stage 3 because I knew I should stop this stage at the first rest stop and this would be much harder to do if I hadn't missed a stage already. By Mile 30 I was in real trouble. I could no longer pedal with my right leg and the quad muscle was in agonizing pain from about 12 oclock to 6 oclock of the pedal stroke. At this point I just hoped to be able to make it to the van near mile 40. By Mile 35 I was in desperate straits. I had pedaled one-legged about halfway up what we thought was the Cat 4 climb at the top of which we expected the campervan to await us. However, the GPS soon showed we were off track and we had to retrace our steps. At this point I knew I was not going to make it 5 miles up a Cat 4 climb to the van, so had to call the van down the hill to come get me. Laura stopped with me at this point as well, steady cold rain and a headwind on heavily trafficked roads was not what she had in mind either. Amy, Mark, and Matt went on to persevere through the tough conditions to complete the day.

My quad is quite concerning. It starts as a general soreness near the muscle insertion with the kneecap, but gradually increases to where it feels with each pedal stroke like I'm pulling the muscle off the bone. I suspect it's related to the injury to my back sustained in my crash which is causing me to somehow or other pedal slightly differently than normal, but how have I ridden well over 400 miles thus far with no problem? The source of the pain is right under some of the deepest road rash I have, so it is possible that I damaged something in the crash itself. Regardless, this is a disappointing development as the tour is about to enter the mountains, the stretch of the tour I really want to ride.

Stage 7 - Bourg-en-Bresse - Le-Grand-Bornand, 123 miles
We're in the mountains! This stage is a gentle introduction to the mountains, as the first half of the stage is kind but ends with a Cat 1 climb up the Col de Colmbriere, a climb that by all metrics (grade, distance, and placement within stage) should be an hors categorie climb. I sat this stage out, hoping a days rest would help my quad. Amy, Laura, Matt, and Mark made good progress through the stage and every now and then the rain capes even came off when the sun would peek through. It was clear the Alps have seen an extraordinary amount of rain as the rivers and creeks throgh the valley were overflowing and small waterfalls out of the mountains were raging.

At the final rest stop, around 80 miles and in the sunshine, I decided my quad was ok and that it was a fluke in the cold wet weather of yesterday and that I would ride the final stretch with them. This stretch included a Cat 4 climb right out of the rest stop, a nice descent and flat stretch, and then the climb up the Col de Columbriere. I figured if my quad hurt immediately up the Cat 4 climb I would bail out, and if it hurt going up the Columbriere I could always call the van using Mark's phone. Well, long story short, I made it about a quarter of the way up the 4100 foot climb before the quad starting acting up. Naturally Mark and the cellphone were well up the road, so I was in it to finish, like it or not. Laura and I crawled up the 10 mile hill in our 34-27 gears, and for the last half hour or so I got in some excellent one-legged climbing work as I could not press at all with my right leg. Finally we summitted a hill that was surely steeper than the advertised 6.8% and were thrilled to see the van at the top, as at 1650 meters it was cold and we were wet and not looking forward to a freezing descent. Amy, Mark, and Matt bundled up with dry clothes and undertook the frigid descent while Laura and I bundled up and drank hot coffee!

Stage 8 - Le-Grand-Bornand - Tignes, 105 miles
This is the big alpine mountain stage, with 3 Cat 1 climbs and 16000 feet of climbing in just over 100 miles. This is what the tour is all about - up and down the toughest mountain passes the organization can find. And I get to sit it out in the van. :(

The day started as miserably as can be imagined. The rain was absolutely pouring and it couldn't have been warmer than 45 when we got up. There was talk of swapping rest days, but Amy, Matt, and Mark put on all the clothes they had (and a few donations from me!) and saddled up and started the day with a 1000 foot descent. Tough stuff! Laura joined for the 4000 foot climb over the Cormet de Roseland, which had snow at the peak. This does not bode well for the Galibier which is over 3000 feet higher. Matt had to call it a day as his legs called it quits on him and he was obviously completely spent. Mark and Amy continued on, conquering the very, very tough stage and looking quite strong, although both claim to be quite tired.

Today is a rest day and tomorrow we had planned to do the Marmotte (a race/event that climbs 4 passes including Galiber, Alpe du Huez, Croix de Fer, and has 17,000 feet of climbing in 105 miles. Mark is still considering this, but I am not, meaning I get 3 rest days to hopefully allow my quad to heal. Sunday, Stage 9, is the last day in the Alps, and is a real beauty of a stage and I would really hate to miss it. It starts with a 1000m climb up the Col d'Iseran, the highest point on the tour at nearly 3000m, and then there is a 50 mile (!!!!) descent. Then a 2000m climb up the Col d'Telegraphe and the Galibier before a 25 mile descent to the finish. This is a stage that I must do! I do hope my quad injury is not serious and 3 days rest will heal it.

That's all for now. Better descriptions and pictures are available at Mark's blog, http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/

-Kyle

Le Tour 2007 - Stages Prologue through Stage 4

2007-07-01T15:46:00.000-04:00

Pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/72157600685944637/

Time and bandwidth are in short supply, but a quick update.

I've decided to try and ride through the broken collarbone and various other ailments and have successfully ridden the prologue and stages 1,2, and 4 - wisely, I think, taking a pass on Stage 3. The collarbone has not been giving me serious problems - I just need to make sure I don't go down again. The back is making life hard, both on and off the bike, but is definitely improving. I finally had a good nights sleep last night! And, now the road rash injuries are the worst of all - nasty messes those things. How I'm going to keep them out of the sun the next weeks I have no idea. Days are long. There is little time to do anything post-stage but clean up, eat, transfer to following day start and go to sleep.

Here's a summary of the week written for Mark's blog: http://letour2007live.blogspot.com/. As we have very limited bandwidth, only his site will have any pictures, and his site will likely be updated with content much more frequently, so check there for latest updates. Amy also has a site at http://amsadventures.blogspot.com/.

Update 7/1/2007
Today was an outstanding day of riding – definitely what I had in mind when I pictured riding in France and a far cry from the stages in England and Belgium. Laura, Amy, Mark, and I worked well together into a steady head and crosswind for the 125 mile stage, and the roads were remote, scenic, in excellent condition - and we passed more than a few sunflower seeds with the sunflowers in full bloom – an awesome sight! Other than stage 2 in Belgium, little is actually flat as both Stage 1 (122 miles) and today (125 miles) have had over 6000 feet of climbing. Certainly not bad, but not exactly pancake flat either. Tomorrow the real climbing starts with Stage 5. Although not a true mountain stage, tomorrow’s stage is considered the toughest outside of the mountains at 125 miles with four Cat 4 climbs, three Cat 3, and a Cat 2 climb which is a 3000 foot ascent over Haut Folin. This should be our first real sampling of just how bad the climbing will be. The little Cat 4’s we’ve encountered so far and which have only been thrown in to distribute some minor King of Mountain points and give someone the jersey for the early stages certainly have seemed like “proper climbs” to me. I fear the real mountains may be a bit more than I’ve anticipated.

For those wondering about my injuries and my crash. I decided on Wednesday that I could ride one-handed and at least manage the 5 mile prologue. The thought of missing this epic stage in London was too much for me. Well, this stubborn idea was a bad one, but luckily it worked out with no crashed or further damage done, but riding one handed in rush hour London traffic in a downpour navigating buses and taxis driving on the wrong side of the road was not on the agenda. So, like it or not I was forced to really test the back and broken collar bone on the bike, and surprisingly it wasn’t such a problem. I could hold the bars and brake and shift without pain, but my back was the biggest problem. I survived the prologue and figured I’d start the 127 mile stage out of London the next day and see how it felt. It was tough and I was in a good deal of pain and any bump or crack in the road was to be avoided or the impact absorbed with the legs, but I got through the day. I held up the group a bit and was in a world of hurt by the end, but I got through it. Stage 2, a 110 mile slog in Belgium was simply miserable. Cold, 30+ mph winds and a steady rain made for a miserable day as I had no booties or long-fingered gloves. And the roads chosen for the stage may have been fine when closed for the 200 person peloton, but for a group of 4 it was not fun as we were primarily on shoulders of major roads with trucks and cars flying past. One of our Tour magazines gave the stage a 2/10 scenic rating, but with a caveat: 0/10 if it’s raining. Well, it was cold, windy, and pouring. Not fun, and the day ended with my 2nd puncture of the ride. We’d more than covered the stage distance (having ridden from the campsite to the start) and just called the van to us to end the day. I decided it may be prudent to skip Stage 3 as my back gave me great difficulties on the first 2 stages and was preventing me from sleeping nights. I still needed assistance getting on and off the bike and out of bed and in/out of the campervan, etc… and the 148 mile stage looked to be on more heavily trafficked miserable roads and the thought of bumping and bouncing around for that duration seemed a poor means to help the back heal. And, as Laura was arriving that day and the campervan needed to be diverted to Brussels to pick her up, I jumped at the excuse to skip the unappealing day in the saddle. The choice turned out to be a prudent one as my back improved nicely with a day off the bike.

It’s been one week since my crash and Stage 5 is tomorrow. I am far from being back to my old self on the bike, but I’m far better off today than earlier in the week. The collar bone is giving me surprisingly little trouble and pain (aside from the occasional jolt of pain on some bumps), and the back seems now to be mending quickly. I still cannot generate much power and cannot get out of the saddle, but the improvements are noticeable by the day and I hope to be at full power by the mountains next week. Today was the first day where I felt like I was riding and not just somehow or other forcing the pedals around. Thanks for all the well wishes and I plan to keep the rubber side down from here on out! Wish me luck!

LeTour 2007 - Preparation

2007-06-26T18:28:00.000-04:00

My athletic goal of 2007 is to ride the entire Tour de France stage-by-stage exactly as the pros do. A group of 4 friends will attempt this, with details at http://www.letour2007.com/ and ongoing blog of progress throughout at http://letour2007latest.blogspot.com/.

Through the winter and all spring my training has gone according to plan - or lack of plan that is. More or less the training plan was to ride as frequently as I could, and I got in many long weekend rides but not as many total miles as I might have preferred. Over Memorial Day weekend, Laura and I gave ourselves a litmus test with the Mountains of Misery double metric in Blacksburg, Va. The 128 mile ride included over 13,000 feet of climbing and ended with a 4 mile 12% average climb, a very worthy Tour-esque climb. All told this one day would be similar to many of the stages of the Tour de France, so if this day was a struggle we knew we were in trouble. Laura was trying her new Cervelo R3 and we decided we'd ride as easy as need be to get through the day comfortably. The day was a success as the 128 miles went by quickly and the four major climbs were not as terrible as advertised or feared. And, in the end, Laura ended up 2nd female in the double metric, although it is not officially a race and results are certainly suspect.

Serious training culminated in a week at Deep Creek Lake, during which I put in nearly 400 miles in the mountains. It was a great week of great training and reassured me that indeed it was possible that I might get through the TdF if I managed to keep healthy. Friends came out as the week progressed and joined us on the big Thursday and Saturday 110 mile rides. And, the best part of the week was that Laura and I got engaged at the end of the Saturday ride! What a great week.

Soon after the celebration and it's off to Europe, and nothing seems to go smoothly. Complications start all the way back in DC when my flight sits for 2 hours on the tarmac as the plane needs to be "rebooted" multiple times before it is cleared. This causes me to miss my connection in Toronto, resulting in a 10 hour layover. Partly due to my late arrival in London we decide to cancel our planned trip to Scotland for the Etape de Caledonia, so we have a few extra days in Nottingham to relax and train and prepare for the tour. No big deal, although I had been looking forward to seeing my old friend Mike Kennedy from the Tour d'Afrique 2003.

And then, disaster strikes. On Sunday afternoon, Mark and I are out for a short spin-the-legs ride when I am leading down a steep hill and a cat darts in front of my bike and I hit it before there is any chance to react. At 37mph I go down instantly and hard, breaking my collar bone, my helmet (but not my head inside it), and bounce, somersault, and roll to a stop. Mark, who was following and saw it all in vivid detail has written a summary of the experience here, and many thanks to Mark for all the help and taking such good care of me. Pictures of the aftermath here. Before the prologue even begins my tour is over. Wow, I can't believe it. Hopefully the muscle soreness and aches and pains will ease and I'll be left with no ill effects other than a broken collar bone and can possibly ride some of the stages later on.

Laura is arriving on Saturday to ride stages 4 - 9, and I'm sure she'll conquer the Alps with ease, so hopefully I can join for some of the fun!

Ongoing blog updates will be available at http://letour2007latest.blogspot.com/

2006 Ironman Lake Placid

2006-08-18T10:02:00.000-04:00

Ironman Lake Placid 2006: Kyle Yost

Event	Time	Rank OA (of 2160)	Rank AG (of 418)
Swim	1:05:10	418	104
T1	6:00	239	55
Start Bike	1:11:10	360	86
Bike	5:20:16	34	2
T2	2:42	129	32
Start Run	6:34:08	57	10
Run	3:41:24	153	36
Overall	10:15:30	87	18

Warm-Up

What am I doing back in Lake Placid for the Ironman? In 2002 I thought I'd try an Ironman and intended to be "one and done" with that distance. That race didn't work out as planned, so I tried again at Lake Placid in 2004. Once again, the race didn't go as planned. Stubborn or stupid - take your pick - but here I am on the morning of July 23 having another go at it in 2006.

With respectable times of 11:27 and 11:14 under my belt it's somewhat difficult to explain to people that I'm at it again because I feel like Ironman has beaten me. While I've completed the distance, in both races I blew up on the run, with the marathon changing from a run to an exercise in survival as I fought cramps and stomach issues from the early miles on. So, although I have two Ironman finishers medals, I felt like I had not conquered Ironman, but rather, it had gotten the best of me.

With these two humbling experiences behind me, I went into the 2006 Lake Placid event with just one primary goal in mind, and that was to hold up on the run, to not have the marathon turn into a shuffle-walk battle just to get from one porta-potty to the next. I knew that if I managed to run the marathon, even if at just a slow trot, that my overall time would be solid and certainly under 11 hours. Deep down I knew that I was capable of actually running the run and that it was possible I could get down to the 10:20 ballpark which historically would put me on the bubble for a Kona spot for the 35-39 age group.

After analyzing my two prior experiences I came to a conclusion of what I had done wrong. First that I was consuming too many calories on the bike, and while it didn't create any issues for me on the bike, the symptoms were appearing early in the run after my stomach had essentially shut itself down. As a big guy with a pretty big engine on the bike I had always assumed I needed more fuel than the little guys. But, in researching the symptoms of my blow-ups and analyzing my caloric intake in those events, I concluded that the 450-500+ calories per hour I was consuming was the likely cause of my stomach distress. So, during training I experimented by decreasing my calories per hour until it was clear I was deprived and had bonked. I found that I had no energy issues until I got down to below 250 kcal/hr, so in training and racing I settled on 300-325 kcal / hr and never encountered any low energy problems.

The second conclusion that I came to was that my cramping was primarily due to dehydration. It occured to me while riding in Spain this spring that other riders needed to stop and pee frequently while riding and I virtually never felt that need. And, never during a race had I needed to go, while others were discussing whether they pull over and hit the woods or just go right on their bikes, a dilemma I'd never needed to worry myself about. I've always been a very heavy sweater, and while I've always thought I've been drinking adequate amounts of water, I now concluded that I was actually dehydrating myself and was hopeful that was the root cause of my chronic cramping problems.

Based on these conclusions I decided that in training and races in preparation for Lake Placid that I would consume a steady 300 kcal per hour of liquid fuel and augment that with however much water it took such that I felt the need to urinate during the bike leg. I tested this approach with success at the Mooseman 1/2 Ironman in June. I had no energy issues on the bike at my lower caloric intake, and had to pee during a race for the first time ever late in the bike leg. But the best part was that my running legs felt good and not once during the run did I have any stomach issues or feel any cramps coming on. This bode well for Lake Placid, but I had still had doubts whether I had my problems figured out as in 2004 I had managed a sub 4:30 1/2 IM with a 1:28 half marathon, so a successful tune-up 1/2 IM with a good half marathon proved to be no guarantee of running success at the Ironman.

Nonetheless, it was with this new approach of eat-less and drink-more that I went into Lake Placid confident that I could finally conquer this distance.

The Race

As in 2004, I went into Lake Placid healthy and fit - particularly on the bike. I'd spent a month on my bike in Europe in March, had done a week of intense training in the mountains in June, and had numerous quality, long rides under my belt. My running had gotten a late start due to calf and achilles issues through the winter and spring, but due to my solid biking fitness I had been able to step up the distances pretty quickly and was running well and had gotten in lots of long runs and bricks in the final two months leading up to the race. I even had some secret hopes for a swim near an hour as my swim workouts had been showing good progress. So, just like in 2004 I toed the starting line healthy and very fit and confident I was capable of a good day.

Swim

The swim was entirely unpleasant. For an entire 65 minutes I got hit, kicked, and never found a comfortable swimming rhythm. I don't know if it was due to the 300 additional people that started the race than in 2004 or if it was because the kayakers prevented us from going as far left of the buoys as I recall going in 2004 to find open water, but whatever the cause this swim was too crowded and never eased up, not even on the second loop. I felt fine and tried to remain calm, but I did not enjoy one second of the swim. One conclusion I've come to is that in a race this dense you have essentially determined your swim fate by 5 minutes into the swim. After that point you are pretty well stuck at the pace of the masses you are with. At times I felt like I was swimming too slowly, but there was no way to find any clear water to swim past the masses around me, and the people around me weren't swimming so much more slowly than I wanted to go that I could, or would, just swim right over and through them. This year, my mantra throughout the race was to be patient until the marathon, but I do wish I had taken it out a bit harder the first five or so minutes of the swim to put myself a bit further up the field before everyone settled in. But, after all, what's a few minutes here and there in an Ironman? Ha, I'll find that out soon enough.

I exited the swim in 65:10 for 464th overall and 104th in the age group, about 50 seconds slower than 2004.

Bike

I felt phenomenal early in the bike and had to work very hard to remain patient and not worry about the people passing me. Two years ago I had a great bike split and had thought I felt comfortable, but after considering my run blow-up and that I had the 47th fastest split of the day, I had concluded that I had biked too hard and must take it a little easier this time around.

Leaving transition I saw my always reliable bike computer had chosen this moment to cease operation, so I was going to be doing this ride completely by feel. Early on I worried I was perhaps taking it too easy as plenty of folks were passing me, but I kept repeating my mantra of taking it easy until the run. On the fast, wet, and treacherous descent into Keane I heard a thud next to me and looked over and saw one of my two bottles full of my calories skidding along on the road beside me. I didn't even hit a bump, how did I throw a bottle?!? It turns out a bolt had broken and my cage had flipped around and was now pointing down. Luckily I had a backup gel flask with me so my entire nutrition strategy was not sliding along the road at 52mph beside me in that water bottle, but the loss of a bottle cage did screw up my plan to take a bottle of water at each aid station and drink it between aid stations. No worries, I could always do like the Tour de France riders and find some space down the back of my jersey or shorts, or I could just try to swig down the entire water bottle during the length of an aid station and immediately discard it, which is mostly what I ended up doing.

The first loop was very, very easy and quite enjoyable for the most part. The amount of blatant, intentional drafting that I saw was really very disappointing. I realize that when you swim 65 minutes there are going to be lots and lots of cyclists around and it's going to be hard to avoid some unintentional drafting early in the bike leg. But, there were some large, dense packs of riders, and on one occasion I got passed by a group of 5 riders in a rotating paceline, something I had never seen in a race before. I tried not to get worked up by this and to race my own race, but I did bark a few choice words to some of the worst offenders at times, and on the 2nd loop when things had thinned out and I passed many of these riders back I voiced my opinion a few times with comments like: "A little harder when you don't have a wheel to suck, huh?" or "Awww, too bad, looks like your peloton shattered, tough to be on your own, isn't it?" Immature, yes, but it just pisses me off to see this blatant cheating. I mean, if you're going to cheat, why not just cut off part of the bike course or hand your chip to someone to do the run for you. Really, what's the difference? Ironman tried a new approach of on-the-course penalty enforcement this year, so there were four penalty boxes on the loop where you had to stop and wait for four minutes if you had been tagged by a marshall for drafting. This process is fine in theory, but I saw a lot of drafting going on, and not once did I see anyone who had been caught waiting out their penalty in the box.

Back to the race. The first loop was effortless and the day was turning into a perfect day for racing as the early rain had cleared and clear skies were starting to break through the clouds and the temperature remained cool. I checked the race time as I finished the first loop and calculated my loop time to be 2:35. Yikes, that's identical to 2004 and I was trying to ratchet it back on the bike this time around. But, I was riding by feel and I felt great, so I continued at the same effort. The 2nd loop was eventless; I felt great and I was peeing regularly, so clearly my hydration strategy was working. And, yes, I was peeing while still on the bike, can't waste any time by stopping! By the last ten mile climb I was starting to feel ready to get off the bike, but the legs were not tired, nor did they feel like cramping was imminent like in 2004. At this point there are few cyclists in sight on the road, and at one point I looked down at my rear disc wheel because it was making some godawful screeching noise and I was worried the entire wheel was going to fly apart or something tragic (in hindsight I think the noise was my broken bottle cage rubbing against my CO2 canister, though it sure sounded worse than that). Lo and behold, what do I see when I look back at my wheel, but someone elses front wheel about one inch off my rear wheel. Someone I had passed miles back had decided to latch on for a free ride back to town. Pissed off once again, I pull left, slow down and ask if he could possibly get any closer. His response: "It's alright. I'll share. You want me to pull for awhile?" "It's alright!!" He actually said that to me as he drafted off of me, acting as if he's surprised that I'm pissed off. Seriously, is this standard operating procedure for the folks racing on the Kona bubble? Infuriating.

I finished the bike in 5:20:16, 21mph, 34th fastest of the day (28 pros in race), and 2nd fastest in my age group, and 1:22 faster than 2004. I'm still in disbelief of that result as the bike felt easy all day and I had to force myself to hold back for the run. Did I go too fast? Should I have gone harder and stolen a few more minutes with what has clearly become my strength? It's so hard to know in an Ironman.

Run

I started the run in 57th overall and 10th in my age group (11 Kona slots), although I didn't know that at the time. What I did know was that I was having a virtually identical race to 2004. In 2004 I swam :64 and biked 5:21 (2:35, 2:46 loops), and now I had just swum :65 and biked 5:20 (2:35, 2:45 loops). Indeed, my transitions were nearly identical as well, and I started the run a whopping 29 seconds ahead of my time in 2004. I recollect thinking as I started the run that it was deja vu all over again, and that I would be seriously dejected if the marathon also turned out the same as 2004.

My legs felt a bit heavy, but all in all I felt pretty good starting the run. I settled into a comfortable pace and reminded myself to be patient when someone in my age group flew past me in the first mile. My marathon plan was 250 kcal/hr of gel and a few cups of water at every aid station. I made it to the first turnaround at mile 5.6 and the legs still felt good and no stomach issues brewing. A milestone! By this point in 2004 I had already cramped up and vomitted and hit the porta-potties. I was just under 41 minutes at the 5.6 turnaround, comfortable at about 7:30 per mile, a bit faster than I expected to be able to maintain, but it felt good and I was being passed more than I was passing so I proceeded running by effort and tried to not worry about time or position.

Then Mile 8 came. Maybe I had fallen behind on my gel consumption, or maybe I just needed more calories than I had expected, but I started to bonk right as we got to the hills on the return trek. Luckily too few calories is easily rectifiable whereas too many is not, so I took a large swig of gel and went on a major shopping spree at the next aid station, and before too long I had my energy back. But, I did not have my legs back. Whether it was the hills, the bonk, or it was just time to start feeling it, I realized somewhere around Mile 8-9 that the marathon wasn't going to forever remain as easy as it been the first 8 miles. Those sub-7:30 miles became 8 minutes became 8:30. I got back to town, struggled up the hill, and finished the first loop in 1:42:47.

However, I now had 13 miles yet to go and I was already in survival mode. But my feared stomach and cramping problems had not presented themselves, so I was still running, with my legs being the only limiting factor. I had always figured that even with tired legs I could manage 8 minute miles, but due to the cramping and stomach issues had never been able to test that. Well, now I was learning that I may have been a bit optimistic and my dead-leg shuffle is closer to 9 minute miles. Nonetheless, that still counts as running, and for the next 13 miles I gut-checked it at my agonizing 9 minute mile shuffle just trying to get to the next milestone: the bend in the road ahead, the next mile marker, the next aid station, the lightpost up ahead, the turnaround, catch John Mead, catch Haig, .... It was a long time to operate in survival mode, and I spent longer and longer at each aid station and walked about half of each of the two big hills, but more or less I held it together the entire second loop.

One nice thing about a two loop course with two out-and-backs per loop is that you get to see a lot of people, and I definitely got boosts during this agonizing stretch from all the folks out there I knew: Ted, Tom, Schwartz, Haig, Jenni Banks, Jeff Emmons, all the Team Zers, Laura, and great spectators: my folks, Brady, Tara, Bruce, Libby, Vaughn. And it was definitely great to wear the TeamZ colors as they had hundreds of fans cheering with endless energy! When you're struggling just to get one foot in front of the other, knowing all those other racers out on the course and having so many great spectators makes a huge difference!

I pushed it with everything I had all the way until I was on the finishing oval. Now I wanted to savor the finish and just cruise home enjoying the moment, but at 10:15 I figured I was on the bubble for a Hawaii spot so I looked back to make sure I wasn't about to be passed right before the line. Sure enough, there was someone eyeing me up and looking to make a late move past me. 140.5 miles complete and no chance to cruise in and enjoy the final 0.1; I had to hustle it around the oval and all the way through to the finish. It turns out the guy was indeed in my age group but it would have had no bearing on Kona anyway had he passed me.

I was absolutely spent when I crossed the line. I had left everything I had on the course and had finally conquered the Ironman distance. I ended up 87th overall and 18th in the age group with a 10:15:30. My run split was 3:41:24, good for 153rd overall and 36th in the AG, and a fantastic improvement over the 4:40:10 of 2004.

Post-race

I was completely wiped out, but for the first time I did not need the medical tent or an IV. I recovered pretty quickly and stuck around the finish and the TeamZ cheering area all the way until the midnight finish party, another first for me. It was great to watch so many people I knew completing the race, and for many of them it was their first Ironman. Incredible!

My 10:15 finish time would have been fast enough to get a slot in M35-39 every previous year. My age group place of 18th would have gotten a slot in every previous year except 2005. But, not so in 2006. There were only 11 slots (of 418 M35-39 starters) and these slots only went as deep as 13th place, who finished in 10:09:33, a bit less than 6 minutes ahead of me. The number of participants at Lake Placid is increasing every year, but they have decreased the total number of Kona slots for the race from 100 to 80 to 72, so it is getting harder and harder to qualify. But, that's part of the appeal; if it were easy it wouldn't be as meaningful.

While I was pleased that I held up well on the run and actually ran the marathon this time and managed a respectable 3:41, a post mortem reveals that I lost my ticket to Hawaii on the run. I started the run in 10th and fell to 18th by the finish. I passed only two who started the run ahead of me, but got passed by ten. Indeed, I remember during the rough patch I hit between miles 8 and 10 a parade of six straight in my age group rolling past. Clearly these people were racing each other and knew they were racing for Hawaii while I was focused on racing my own race.

Warm-Down

As time passes I remain thrilled with my effort. I'm ecstatic that I finally conquered the distance and figured out my stomach and cramping problems. And I still find it hard to believe that I went 10:15 on a very difficult Ironman course.

But, I'm also starting to wonder if it's more than bad luck that I always seem to be a just-missed guy. Am I chronically unlucky or just not good enough or simply not tough enough when it counts? In high school I never made the state championships in track and xc, though by all metrics I was fast enough that I should have managed it. In college I surprised myself by coming painfully close to the NCAA Championships qualifying time, but never managed to get over the barrier. And now I miss Kona by the skin of my teeth in a time that would have been good enough any other year.

Surely I could have managed six minutes faster. How did all those guys outrun me? I'm a runner and I don't have the cramping or stomach excuse this time, yet I got run down. There's no holding back on the run; couldn't I have stuck with the guys in my age group when they passed me? Did I really need to walk half of the last two big hills or spend so much time at the aid stations? Why couldn't I manage at least a 3:35 marathon like the rest of the contenders? Was I just not mentally tough enough on the run? Did I bike too hard? Did I do too much bike training and not enough running? And, just think if I could only learn to swim just a few minutes faster! Oh, so much to ponder as I watch the Kona broadcast on TV once again this year.

So I planned to be one and done with the Ironman distance. It took me three tries until I got it right, so it's time to be done with this distance. But now I find myself within spitting distance of qualifying for Kona. What to do, what to do......

My flickr photo album of the day can be accessed here. Many thanks to Dan Hicok who took many of these photos and was the official photographer for TeamZ. His entire portfolio from the long day at Lake Placid can be accessed here.

The 0th Annual SavageMan Triathlon

2006-08-13T22:17:00.000-04:00

RSVP here for SavageMan, please. Please specify in the RSVP comments whether you intend to participate, whether you expect to attempt the full SavageMan, the MeekMan, some combination of the two, or would like to volunteer instead.

Welcome to the information page for the 0th Annual SavageMan Triathlon, to be held on Saturday, October 7.

Q: What do you mean by "0th Annual"?
A: 0th Annual means that the 2006 event is an invitation only "Course Preview" for what may or may not become an annual event on a larger scale. This year the event is not a race, it is an unofficial, unsponsored gathering of a few dozen invited trial participants who just happen to do a swim, bike, and run workout on the same course on the same day. If all goes well and participants in the 0th Annual running agree that the venue and course are ideal for a recurring event, I will either pursue making SavageMan a legitimate race or hand off duties to a veteran race director.
Q: There are lots of organized races that provide me schwag, awards, food, Kona slots, fast times, etc.... Why would anyone want to do an unofficial, unsupported event that provides none of these?
A: If you love swimming, biking, and running and like to challenge yourself, you will love SavageMan. The challenge in SavageMan is not to beat your PR -because you won't, or qualify for Kona -because you won't, or win your age group -because no one cares, it's to conquer a very challenging, beautiful course and enjoy an absolutely beautiful area ideal for swimming, biking, and running. All that and because it's free, that's why.
Q: Where and When is SavageMan
A: SavageMan will take place in Garrett County in the heart of the Allegheny Mountains in very western Maryland. The terrain in this region is absolutely ideal for triathlon training and the area is just begging for an event. The only other events remotely near this region are a 1/2 IM in Morgantown, WV, an hour west, and the Rocky Gap offroad triathlon in Cumberland 30 minutes east. And neither of these are truly in the heart of the Alleghenies.

The swim will take place in clear and beautiful Deep Creek Lake, a popular lake vacation destination less than 3 hours from Washington, DC (directions here). Much of the run course will take place in Deep Creek State Park. The bike course will tour through Garrett County, touch into West Virginia, and head through scenic Savage River State Forest.

The 0th Annual SavageMan will take place on Saturday 10/7. Mornings will be cool that time of year in the mountains, so start time is 9:30am, which also allows those who want to drive up morning of from DC time to do so.

Additionally, SavageMan will be held on a Saturday morning to allow people to enjoy the lake and surrounding area for the rest of the weekend if they desire. If enough people are interested, on Sunday I will lead an incredibly beautiful 70 or 105 mile ride, depending on starting/ending location, into the Monongahela Natl Forest in W. Va. Leaves should just be starting to turn, which will make a stunning ride even more so.
Q: How far is it? Will it be hard?
A: SavageMan is a road 1/2 Ironman distance triathlon. Yes, it will be hard. It will be the toughest triathlon course you have ever done. If this event ever becomes an open race it will be billed as "The World's Toughest Half Ironman" and there won't be many who complete it who disagree.

The purpose of the 0th Annual Savageman is to get people to preview a potential 1/2 IM course for future years. Many folks, however, have other fall events they are training for, or for various reasons do not want to do an entire, very difficult, 1/2 IM course in October, so MeekMan distances of 25 mile bike and 10K run will be available as well. If you are not a true savage, but still want to get a feel of SavageMan and the terrain, feel free to partake in the shorter distances.
Q: Why the name "SavageMan"?
A: A number of reasons:
First, the course is a true beast. Only a real savage can conquer this course. One driver behind the creation of SavageMan is to devise what can reasonably be advertised as "The World's Toughest Half Ironman". A few other triathlons make this claim and based on their descriptions and elevation maps it is not a stretch to claim that SavageMan is even tougher. The only race that legitimately looks tougher has the swim at the bottom of l'Alpe dHuez and the run at the top, but a point to point race up a mountain is hardly a fair comparison.

Second, the bike course crosses Big Savage Mountain twice and rides along the Savage River and through Savage River State Forest. Big Savage Mountain also happens to be the Eastern Continental Divide, and yes, it is a savage of a climb.

Third, and most importantly, SavageMan sounds cool.
Q: Cool. How do I register?
A: You don't register. But you do RSVP. Anyone interested in participating or volunteering, please RSVP to the evite here. Please specify in the RSVP comments whether you would like to participate, whether you expect to be a SavageMan, a MeekMan, some combination of the two, or would like to volunteer instead.
Q: What can I expect from the swim leg?
A: The swim will be uphill and into a current. No, the swim will be quite easy and pleasant. The lake is calm, clear, and beautiful and perfect for a triathlon. The start at the public beach at Deep Creek State Park is right at the end of a cove narrow enough to keep boat traffic out and the water calm. The swim will be 0.6 miles into the cove, around a giant inflatable turtle, and back again. This will be the most enjoyable part of your day, so swim slow and make it last. Water temps in early Oct will likely be in the upper 60s.
Q: What can I expect from the bike leg?
A: The bike is a one loop 56 mile course that will be something very similar to this loop here. The bike leg is what makes SavageMan fit only for a true savage. I make only 3 assurances about this course. 1: It is 56 miles. 2: The majority of the roads and scenery are stunning and have very little traffic, and 3: It is very hilly and very hard and includes a hill steeper and harder than the king of climbs in all of triathlon: The Beast in St. Croix. This is very likely the only road bike course with a hill so steep that it is highly probable you will fall off your bike if you attempt it. That's right, IF you attempt it. This is also very likely the only course in which you have an option to go straight up a hill or to take a longer way around to get to the top in order to avoid falling over or walking up the hill. And, unlike other races that give special prizes to fastest splits of the day, this event will give a special prize to everyone who conquers The Wall without falling off. If you like a challenge, you will like this course.

The bike course starts out with about 9 miles of good rolling hills to get you warmed up. Then you climb Backbone, as the locals call this stretch of Big Savage Mountain, from the west side which means you only have to climb about 700 feet in a bit less than 2 miles. A few miles of rollers takes you past many truck warning signs indicating that the dropoff is approaching and brings you to what is very likely the fastest long descent you will ever ride. The road descends straight ahead at a 9% grade for 4 miles, dropping 2000 feet without a twist or bend in the road to give you any reason to consider your brakes. There is a wide shoulder, but as you'll likely be exceeding the speed limit of 50mph for cars and 10mph for trucks it's best to take up your lane of traffic and enjoy the fastest 4 miles you'll ever ride. Video of the descent here (46MB, 5:40). Once at the bottom you're in West Virginia and have about 2 miles of flat road until you enter Westernport where you learn that what goes down must go up - only more steeply.

Then the fun begins. Over the next 6 miles you will climb 2100 feet, but at least 2/3 of that occurs in the first and last mile. You will climb through the town of Westernport and perhaps wonder why they built a town on a cliff. Then you can decide whether to go staight up the road so steep that it's long since been closed to traffic, or go around the block to get up slightly more gradually. Once out of town it keeps going up and up until it mercifully flattens out for you and you've climbed 800 feet in just a mile for a 15% avg. grade. Video of this first part of the climb here (94MB, 11:33). The next 3-4 miles are flat and gradually uphill, but give you a bit of a chance to recover. Then after you think maybe it's all not so bad after all the road starts to get steeper and steeper and then yet steeper still. But, while it's steep and it's hard it isn't all that long so before too long you're over the top and you've conquered Westernport Road. Video of this second part of the climb here (88MB, 10:52)

Then, it's a narrow, twisty, 3-4 mile descent down the other side and into Savage River State Forest. Video here (40MB, 4:59). Finally a bit of mercy as the next ten miles are about the only flat ten miles in all of Garrett County as you ride through the Savage River State Forest along the scenic Savage River. But lest you think you've paid your penance in suffering, you still must climb out of the Savage River valley. If you can see through the sweat in your eyes or manage to look anywhere other than 6 inches in front of your wheel, do so on this 4 mile 1500 foot climb as the road and the scenery are gorgeous. Once over the top it's just another 7-8 miles of rolling terrain until you're back at the lake.

The 25 mile MeekMan bicycle option will not take you over Big Savage Mountain or through Westernport. Which is a real shame as the Meeklings will thus miss the highlight of SavageMan. But, the MeekMan bike is far from flat and easy. You'll have rolling hills and a nice descent which drops 1500 feet into Savage River State Forest and then you get to climb back out again. A very nice, scenic, and challenging ride, but not worthy of the SavageMan moniker.
Q: What can I expect from the run leg?
A: You can expect to start with tired legs, first of all. The run, by any normal measure would be considered hard and hilly, but in comparison to the just completed bike, is actually somewhat humane. It is a one loop course that consists of about half pavement and half trails. The trail sections vary from good dirt/gravel fire road to some poorly maintained single track. Trail shoes are not necessary, but racing flats would be ill-advised.

The MeekMan run will take you along the lake for roughly one mile, and then up a gravel fire road to the fire tower and back.
Q: This sounds AWESOME, but really hardcore. I want to do it, but am worried maybe it's too much for me. Do you think I can handle it?
A: That's for you to answer. If you don't think you're up for a hardcore 1/2IM at this point in the season, or you have other events you're focusing on but still want a taste of SavageMan, there is always the more sane MeekMan option.

The SavageMan course is indeed hardcore and the Westernport climb in particular is the real deal and very likely unlike any climb you've done before. There is no sag wagon, so once you're out there there is only one way back - under your own power! That being said, if you have enough gears you can get over all hills just fine. I know of plenty of very average (and less) riders who have gotten over Westernport and loved every second of it. I also know that Westernport has, on at least two occasions, brought very capable riders to tears. So, if you like a challenge, have enough gears for steep climbs, are prepared to be self-sufficient for a very slow 1/2 IM, then, yes, it is very likely you can handle SavageMan and will absolutely love it.

And, if you don't want to do the full SavageMan, there is always the MeekMan option.
Q: Wow, sounds fun in a warped kind of way. I want in, what do you expect from me?
A: First, RSVP here ASAP.

Second, as this is a trial run for what could become a real event, I want your feedback - real feedback - not just "Water was colder than I expected" or "Wish I had a triple crankset".

Third, I want you to come with proper expectations of what the 0th Annual SavageMan is, and that's an unsupported swim, bike, run event. Be prepared to be self-sufficient for food and water and mechanical issues. Have enough knowledge of the course and the turns so that you know what to expect next. The course will be marked, but not overly so, so it helps if you are expecting to see a left turn marker and are on the lookout for it.

Finally, I may request somewhere in the ballpark of $10 to cover any supplies I need to purchase like cones, signs, road paint, ...
Q: Crikey, those hills sound tough. What kind of bike and/or gearing should I have for this?
A: Some people like climbing on tri bikes. I don't, so I say if you have the luxury of choosing between a road and tri bike, choose the road bike. There is only one technical descent (the descent from Big Savage - if participating, please watch video here before race) which will have to be taken cautiously regardless, so bike handling is not a huge issue. Make sure your brakes work well. For gearing, if you have a triple ring or compact cranks this type of terrain is exactly why you have them. If not, you will want a 12-25 or 12-27 cassette. I typically ride a 39-27 in this terrain and use the 27 liberally. The first time I discovered these climbs I had a 42-23 and could only get over them by making switchbacks across the road (not the closed road; I've only gotten over that upright once - in my 39-27) and about fell over from lack of momentum a few times. Ted Waugh once rode out here with his rear derailleur broken such that he couldn't get in a gear easier than his 39-19. He amazingly made it over Westernport but his legs paid the price. By the end of the ride we found ourselves at the side of the road trying to fix his derailleur with tweezers and nail clippers. These hills are legit. If you are strong you will be able to get over in a standard 23 but would wish you had more gearing. If you are not particularly strong and show up with standard gearing you will find yourself suffering and possibly walking.
Q: A 1/2 IM with one loop bike and run courses is an awful lot to do self-supported. What can I expect in the way of support?
A: Expect little. In all likelihood a table with water will be left at the top of the Westernport Road climb, which is roughly halfway through the bike. It will be up to you to stop and fill your bottles. It will be up to you to furnish your own calories. Hopefully on the trail that runs from mile 5.5 - 10 of the run we will have someone with water patrolling on an ATV. You can expect signs or road markings for any turns on the bike and run courses. You can expect accurate 1.2, 56, and 13.1 distances for the SavageMan. The MeekMan course will be roughly 25 mile bike and 10K run, but less concern for exact accuracy will be taken. We will make sure your bike is secure during the swim and run. We will time you and do our best to get splits of the individual legs. We will provide "prizes" to anyone who gets up the steep, closed section of Westernport Rd without falling over or dismounting, as well as to anyone who can average over 20mph on the bike or under 1:40 on the run.

There will be no course marshals. There will be no draft marshalls. There will be no one manning intersections (there are really only 2 intersections of any concern over the 56 mile bike). There will be no sag wagon. This is not a race. It is a group of people doing swim, bike, and run workouts all on the same course. It is not endorsed or supported by the communities or the State Park. Set your expectations appropriately. If ever there was an event to wear a CamelBak on the bike or run with a FuelBelt, this is it.

Expect a challenge, a beautiful course, and good times. And some beer and bbq in the state park when the suffering is complete!
Q: I only want to swim - or bike - or run. Or maybe I'll put a relay together. Can I do that?
A: I guess. That's not very savage-like, though.
Q: Deep Creek Lake is a great vacation spot, so I'd like to bring family and friends. Cool? Anything non-participants could help with?
A: You bet. Depending on how many volunteers we get, we'd like folks for a variety of tasks: timing, watching and/or locking bikes in transition, photographers (pictures and testimonials for future SavageMans is the main reason for holding the 0th Annual), man a few intersections on bike, drive ATV on the trail section of run, etc....
Q: Where would I stay?
A: Deep Creek Lake is a major summer lake vacation destination, and WISP ski resort on the lake is a major winter destination, so hotel lodging is plentiful. Late September / early October is after the high season on the lake so prices will have dropped, so I would recommend groups of folks getting together and renting lake houses. Also, there is camping in the state park directly across from the public beach where the transition area will be located, but nights will be getting cold so beware.

Also, a few folks have access to friends or families lake houses and are in the process of arranging accomodations. If you think you may be interested in latching on with one of these people, let me know in the RSVP comments and I'll put you in touch.
Q: Anything else to do in the area to make a weekend out of it?
A: Indeed. The lake is a hub of activity, but beyond the lake there is lots to entertain the active vacationer. The Youghigheny River, which has some of the east's best kayaking and rafting is nearby. There is lots of mountain biking, hiking, and camping nearby.

Indeed, there was just a front-page article in the Washington Post on the adventure activities available in the Deep Creek region. Funny, SavageMan wasn't mentioned. Next year....
I'm intrigued. Show me more.
OK. Knock yourself out.
Videos of the biggest climbs and descents of the bike course are here. If you think the hills don't look all that steep in these videos and pictures, keep in mind the camera is fixed to the handlebars pointed straight ahead, so if the bike is angled up or down a hill at 10%, the road ahead looks flat from that perspective. Look for level landmarks, such as houses, on the side of the road for proper perspective.
Pictures from a ride of the bike course are here.
Pictures from an earlier training camp in the area are here.
More stuff here:
http://www.deepcreektimes.com
http://www.dnr.state.md.us/publiclands/western/savageriver.html
http://areas.wildernet.com/pages/area.cfm?areaID=MDSPSR&CU_ID=1.

That's all for now. This was a quick first cut of information so I'm sure to think of more things and post them, so check back often. Send additional questions to kyleyost@gmail.com or post in the Comments section. If you are interested in participating or volunteering, RSVP here - and soon!

For those of you who have been out to this area with me before and trained on this terrain (and climbed Westernport), please add to this information by posting your thoughts on Savageman and your experiences on this terrain in the Comments section.

Deep Creek Training Week 2006

2006-06-19T10:14:00.000-04:00

Deep Creek Lake Training Week 2006 is in the books. It was a fantastic week of perfect weather, phenomenal lake conditions, and incredible rides and runs. Unfortunately there were a bunch of last minute cancellations, but those that made it out, even for as little as a day, all had difficulty returning. And Mike and I were happy to not have an army of fresh legs arrive just in time for the monster ride on Saturday. Throughout the week we had Mike, Julie, Jennifer, Ted, Vince, and Zack. And, of course, Riley and Mable! I accomplished my goal of a heavy week of training in the mountains with 7 miles of swimming, just shy of 400 riding, 35 running, and returning home healthy and motivated for the final stretch of hard Lake Placid preparation training. Thanks again to Steve and Kim Trundle for so generously allowing us to use their lake house for the week.

Here are the top 10 memories, highlights, and impressive performances of the week:

10. Mike and I going anaerobic trying to inflate the Turtle Trampoline. Next time, I pay extra for the motorized pump accessory.

9. Having Zack to sacrifice as the ride virgin to the Allegheny Mountain gods. Zack was hit by a car during a ride on Thursday, but decided at 3:30am Saturday that his aches and pains were diminishing so he hopped in the car and drove out to give the Epic Ride a shot.

8. Successfully summitting - barely - the Westernport Wall, and then turning around and watching Zack, Mike, and Ted walk their bikes up. What a bunch of wusses.

7. Jennifer Schwartz crushing both halves of the Westernport Road monster, only to start bawling when told, falsely and maliciously, that the steep part was yet to come. Not nice. I'm sorry.

6. The Turtle Trampoline backflip contest. And the winner is .... this dive .....

5. Zack crushing Bowman Hill only to succumb 20 yards from the top with hamstring cramps. Did I mention the tradition of sacrificing the ride virgin.....? Entertaining video here, but plug the children's ears as Zack has a few choice words about the situation.

4. The middle 70 miles of the Monongahela National Forest 106 mile ride. The road was remote, narrow, and covered by a thick tree canopy, and we encountered about three cars all day long, one of which pulled up next to us and asked "Y'all lost?". Another rode next to us for awhile asking us what we were doing, where we were heading, and then ended the conversation by sticking a Bud Lite out the window and asking if we wanted it.

3. Climbing Westernport Road shortly into the Epic Ride and feeling/hearing the left half of my carbon handlebars crack and bend as I torqued hard on the bars get up the over 20% grade. Sliding the handlebars to the right so that the cracked carbon was contained inside the stem face plate seemed to add support to the failed section of the bars and made them ridable, but riding the remaining 85 miles of steep climbs and descents without placing any weight or stress on the left half of the bars made a tough ride even tougher.

2. Julie's 8.5 mile swim to make up for her canceled Potomac crossing swim. Wow. And then showing how "working remotely" is properly done.

1. Ted's 26 hour whirlwind Deep Creek performance from 7am Saturday to 9 am Sunday. Arrive, swim 3 miles, crush 104 mile Epic Ride, eat/sleep, run 18 miles, swim 2.4 miles, depart. The man got in a good week's worth of exercise in just over a day and the wife never noticed he was gone.

Maybe next year we'll go for the 4th Annual. Or maybe not.

Pictures of the week here, and the few videos here.

-Kyle

Europe Cycling Trip - March 2006

2006-04-10T20:50:00.000-04:00

Hello all!

I have recently returned from my month in the saddle in Europe, and what an amazing trip it was!

Four weeks, 1700 miles, no injuries, no punctures, no crashes, no mechanicals, no sickness, fabulous weather, fabulous company, absolutely amazing riding! It was truly a trip of a lifetime and one I intend to replicate, perhaps in smaller chunks, many times in my life.

In a rare display of foresight I planned ahead for this trip and purchased a camera that would allow me to best document my on-bike adventures. With a little MacGyver-like ingenuity I devised a mount that stably held my ultra-compact Casio EX-S600 on my handlebars. I managed to take a lot of action video of the riding and thanks to the TriCATS have posted it here. There is a lot of good footage up there, but it is very large so you will need broadband to download it. Also, the video is in Windows Media Video (.WMV) format, so I believe you need Windows Media Player in order to play it, although I could be wrong about that.

I've posted on the TriCATS site a large amount of the footage that I took so that it is available to those who were there with me for portions of the trip. However it is likely that the majority of you don't have the time or interest to relive my monthlong vacation ride by ride and climb by climb, so I tried to filter out and list just the best photos and videos in the Highlights section of each week's update.

Both still photos and videos have been compressed for easier downloading, so contact me if you would like the full resolution versions of any files.

I hope you enjoy this trip report. I certainly enjoyed the trip! If you're ever considering heading to Majorca or the Catalan region of Spain please contact me as I can provide you with much helpful information.

Week 1 - Girona, Spain with Breakaway Bikes and BikeCat
Week 2 - Costa Brava, Spain with Eurocycler
Week 3 - Majorca, Spain
Week 4 - England and Tour of Flanders

Kyle Yost
March 3 - April 3, 2006

Jump to: Intro Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

Week 1 – Girona, Spain

2006-04-10T20:04:00.000-04:00

Click here for Pictures and Video of Week 1 in Girona with Breakaway Bikes and BikeCat

After a long, miserable, sleepless set of flights I finally touched down in Girona, Spain tired, grumpy, and with a very bad attitude. How quickly things would change. The hotel owner who picked me up at the airport didn't speak English and my Spanish is weak and my Catalan non-existent so the drive to the hotel was silent. I arrive at the hotel and the owner points to someone through the glass door, "Patrick - English". Cool, I think, at least someone I can talk to and complain about the comedy of errors that occured during my travels.

Me: "How are you, I'm Kyle"
Him: "Patrick. You from the US? Cool, I can finally speak English."
Me: "Where do you live?"
Him: "Now? Here. Girona. But I'm from Dallas originally....then Austin"
Me (groggy and a little slow on the uptake): "Really? What do you do here?"
Him: "Oh, I'm a cyclist"
Me: "Cool, for what team?"
Him: "I just signed with Phonak. But the last few years I was with Postal and then Discovery"
Me: "What's your name?"
Him: "Patrick McCarty"

And that was the first person I met in Girona. (And I still don't know why he was in my hotel nor why he felt obligated to help carry my substantial luggage to my room.)

Today we went on our first real ride, 70 miles of Skyline-ish climbing through the foothills of the Pyrenees and along the Costa Brava coast of the Mediterranean. The day started slightly differently than my typical rides. We rolled out of the hotel along the narrow cobblestone alleys of Girona, and our Spanish ride leader Jaume stopped us only a few hundred yards into the ride. He pointed out Lance's pad and Tyler's across the street. We hung around a bit and someone asked what the hold up was. "We're waiting for Freddy." Sure enough, seconds later, American sprinting star Freddy Rodriguez rolled out of his house below Lance's fully decked out in his Davidamon Lotto kit.

And that was how my first ride in Girona began.

Needless to say, it is ridiculously amazing here. I'm spending this week based out of the Girona city centre on a trip arranged through Breakaway Bikes from Philadelphia. Two years ago on a trip in this region through Eurocycler I met Joe Wentzell, the owner of Breakaway Bikes, and he was so awed by the riding here that he said he was going to start organizing trips through his bike store and actually followed through with it. So, here I am. Next week I am staying in the same region but moving headquarters about 25 miles over to the coast and again doing a week with Eurocycler. Then it's off to Majorca for a week to give that cycling paradise a try. And, finally, after a week of dulling the aches of my tired legs in English pubs, it's off to Belgium for the Tour of Flanders.

So, I'm one day into this adventure and the legs are tired already. But, at least I arranged for a massage this evening by the hotel owner's daughter who came highly recommended by Jaume our ride leader. As she kneaded my shot quads I learned in broken English why. She is Lance's and George's masseuse when they are in town, and had to head over to Floyd Landis' place for an appointment when she finished with me.

My bad attitude is gone. Welcome to Girona.

-----------------------------

Hello all. I'm long overdue for an update from my European adventure, so here goes....

I spent my first week in Girona, Spain with about 12 other riders from America at a camp organized by Breakaway Bikes in Philadelphia and BikeCat of Girona. Girona is cycling mecca and huge numbers of professional riders flock to the area to take advantage of the beautiful roads, weather, and terrain. Indeed we crossed paths with numerous professionals and even had dinner and rode one day with Freddy Rodriguez and also hopped aboard the Team TIAA-CREF train for a long while out one day. We encountered four members of Discovery Channel on the roads and crossed paths with Bobby Julich and Carlos Sastre of CSC out training. The week was absolutely fantastic. I cannot adequately describe what an amazing week it was. Joe (Breakaway Bikes) and Jaume (BikeCat) organized an incredible week and everything worked out ideally - so long as your bike wasn't lost by the airlines as a few unfortunate souls were. We stayed in the Hotel Historic in the heart of the city centre of Girona, and this hotel is the de facto cycling headquarters for Girona. The owners are cycling fans and they regularly put up visiting professionals and they have a large display case of signed jerseys from the likes of Lance Armstrong, Tyler Hamilton, Floyd Landis, George Hincapie, and on and on. The hotel sits atop the city next to the ancient cathedral and we had the pleasure of finishing every ride with a sprint through the city centre on cobblestones culminating with one block up a cobbled 18%. As with all climbs throughout the week, it proved hard to beat Jaume up that one. After the rides we would walk through Girona and get some tapas for snacks, swing by Lance's place and rummage through his mail, and sit back with a cerveza and reflect on what an exhilarating ride it had been.

The rides were stunning and we were very lucky with the weather. Dry everyday and perfect cool temperatures for cycling. We sampled all terrain, long gradual climbs in the Volcanoes region, sweeping ups and downs along the coast of the Mediteranean, steep quad-buster climbs from beachside towns up the cliffs and then diving down treacherous narrow switchback descents, and of course, on the last day a long, legitimate mountain stage which paid off in a phenomenal 30 minute descent. Every day we returned to the hotel in disbelief at how great the ride was, and then the next day would find a way to top the last.

The hotel was great, the riding was great, and we ate like kings. I think Jaume, Bernat, and Debbie of BikeCat wanted to show off their city as they took us to phenomenal restaurants for dinner (and some riding lunch stops, too!) after the long day of riding. We may have been tired, but we ate well and the sangria and wine kept flowing late into the night.

The final aspect of this first week of my trip that made this easily one of the best weeks of my life was the people I met. I had met Joe (Breakaway) and Jaume (BikeCat) two years ago in this region when I did a Eurocycler trip and Joe was randomly my roommate and Jaume was a ride leader. Joe decided to organize his own trips to this region and latched on with Jaume. So, two years later I went on a wing and a prayer knowing no one other than Joe and Jaume. I had a blast and I know that I've damaged my liver and sleep deprivation is sure to take a few years off my life. But it was worth it! All told, an absolutely phenomenal week. I highly, highly, highly recommend using Breakaway Bikes and BikeCat if you are ever considering a bike trip to the Girona region. You will not regret it, and I know I will be back with them many times. My only complaint is that Jaume won all the climbs and Joe won all the sprints. Joe, Jaume, if you want to develop any customer loyalty you must let a customer win at least once!!

Week’s Tally: 7 rides, 497 miles
Trip Tally To date: 7 rides, 497 miles

Photo Highlights From Week 1

Riding With Freddy Rodriguez
Discovery Channel Train Coming Our Way
Coast Road Looking Down on Tossa de Mar
Summit of El Fur Looking Down To Mediterranean
Steep Cliffside Climbs
Steep Descents Back Down to Mediterranean
Scenic Riding
What Pros Eat
Nice Scenery
More Nice Scenery
Lunch Stop
Santa Fe Dead Ahead
Up, Up, and Away
The Crew

Video Highlights From Week 1

Descending Tossa Pass (2:33, 16.1MB)
Descent Along Costa Brava Mediterranean Coast (0:54, 5.8MB)
Climb El Fur - One Mile, 15% average grade (7:21, 46.0MB)
Steep, winding descent to Med. coastal town (1:31, 9.6MB)
Riding through some cobbled town, avoiding obstacles (0:21, 2.4MB)
Nice descent ending with a sprint into town (1:46, 11.1MB)
The climbers get tactical before sprint to summit (0:38, 4.1MB)
Working my way through the field on a climb (2:28, 15.6MB)
Narrated snippets from 75 minute Santa Fe climb (10:13, 63.7MB)
Beginning of Santa Fe descent with snow on side of road (4:34, 28.7MB)
Santa Fe descent snippet through blowing leaves (0:58, 6.1MB)
Santa Fe was a scenic, fast descent (3:16, 20.4MB)
Amazing descent - Sant Hilari - long clip taken from straight 25 minute descent. Large file but worth a watch (12:05, 75.2MB)
I'm caught unprepared for the sprint to the town sign (0:39, 4.1MB)
Race on cobblestones through Girona back to the hotel (0:58, 6.1MB)

Next: Week 2 - Eurocycler training camp – Costa Brava, Spain

Jump to: Intro Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

Week 2: Eurocycler

2006-04-10T19:59:00.000-04:00

Click here for Pictures and Video of Week 2 in Costa Brava with Eurocycler.
Jaume’s brother was kind enough on Sunday morning to load my bike and my very massive bags into his car and drive me the 25 miles to the Swiss resort on the Mediterranean coast that would host me for the following week. The summertime Swiss beach resort is turned into a massive cycling training camp during the spring. Other than the few Americans that the Eurocycler arm brings in, everyone is Swiss or German, and most everyone is a very serious competitive athlete or a member of the Swiss national or junior developmental teams. Natascha Badmann, Fabian Cancellara, Olaf Sabatschus, Bridgette McMahaon have all spent winter and spring weeks training at this camp in recent years. I spent a week at this camp two years ago, but I don’t think I fully realized the extent to which this camp is run like a USOC type serious training camp the last time I was here as there were probably 25-30 Americans in the Eurocycler crowd, so we had our own little camp within a camp. Not this time around. There were only 5 Americans, and none of them rode in my group, so every day I would ride in silence without a word of English spoken. And for the most part there wasn’t much Swiss or German being spoken either. These rides were all business. The riding, of course, was phenomenal, just like the previous week out of Girona, but nothing else was nearly as much fun. Of course, my liver enjoyed the break and I caught up on my desperately lacking sleep, but I definitely missed the people of last week and being in the heart of Girona.

Most definitely the highlight of the Eurocycler week was the riding. There’s a reason pros flock to this region to train. The Swiss have organized the camp amazingly and they run it like a finely tuned Swiss watch. There are about 8 or so riding groups each with a ride leader and a predetermined speed. The rides are all business – no passing the ride leader and the ride leader is remarkable at sticking right on the advertised pace. If a ride is advertised at 18mph you will probably never see 18mph on your bike computer as there is so much climbing and descending, but when you roll back into camp, sure enough, what will you find as the average speed on your computer but 18.0mph? Amazing. I fit in well with the 2nd fastest group which essentially merged with the fastest group by the end of the week. Our ride leader was Stephan Wenk who is the 20-24 duathlon world champion. We rode many of the same roads that I had been on the previous week, but these rides were much more steady with very little stopping. The final ride of the week was the “Queen” stage, a 112 mile ride which included a 25 mile climb up the Le Turo d’leHomme. I had actually climbed the same mountain the previous week with the Breakaway Bikes group, but in reverse direction, so I more or less knew what I was in for. The first 15 miles were mostly gradual, varying from false flats to 3-4% grade. After riding with, and more or less climbing with, the fast guys for the entire week I had deluded myself into believing that I had become transformed into a climber and could hang with the big dogs on the big climb on the final big ride of the week. I would pay the price for this delusionary dreaming. We settled into a steady but fast tempo for the first 15 miles of the climb, and I held tight although I was at my limit a few points when it got steeper. After 15 miles there was about a 1 mile descent and then the real climb begins as you ascend around 850 meters over 8 miles. I hung strong for about a mile or two and then the road took a left turn and kicked up above 10% and the attacks began. Stephan lifted the rule of not passing the ride leader and said everyone was on their own to the top and challenged anyone to beat him. I blew up big time and whimpered meekly as I watched everyone disappear off into the distance. Unfortunately I’ve got all this on video so I can relive it next winter on the trainer. The remainder of the climb was pure misery. 6 miles of 8% climbing is not fun when your legs are totally shot. I resorted often to my bailout 39-27 gear, but all that caused was for me to go even slower; it didn’t seem to make getting up the hill any easier. Eventually I was above the snow line and heading into the clouds and fog which was exhilarating even in my oxygen starved state. Eventually I limped over the top with the majority of the fast group waiting at the top already bundled up for the amazing 15 mile descent down the other side. I recovered a bit for the remaining 50 miles of the day, though wasn’t too thrilled that many folks seemed to think the final ride of the week should be a race so the pace was quite fast the rest of the day. Apparently they weren’t headed to Majorca the next morning for another week of heavy mileage in the mountains.

Week’s Tally: 6 rides, 430 miles
Trip Tally: 13 rides, 927 miles

Next: Week 3 - Majorca, Spain

Jump to: Intro Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

Week 3: Majorca, Spain

2006-04-10T19:13:00.000-04:00

Click here for Picture and Video of Week 3 in Majorca.

The entire impetus for my month of cycling in Europe was a cycling reunion with my friend and training partner, Amy Smith, who moved last summer to England. She arranged a week in Majorca, and I and eight others from the DC area jumped at the chance to reunite with Amy in the cyclist’s paradise of Majorca and to relive the misery of Amy dropping the hammer at the end of a long ride and putting you into a world of hurt. It was Amy with whom I rode 182 miles from Washington, DC to Deep Creek Lake, MD last summer, and who thought that was so much fun that she wanted to ride back home the next day.

In hindsight it seems so obvious. Why on earth I had it in my mind as I arrived in Majorca that I was in for a relaxing week of casual riding and excessive sangria drinking I do not know. I would be riding with Amy. This would be no recovery week. I should have known what was coming my way.

Majorca has to be seen to be believed. I had heard stories that it is cycling heaven and even heard from a non-cyclist friend who had just returned that “cyclists have taken over the island”. My first sense that this place might indeed be an island oasis for cyclists occurred in the small Majorcan airport. Bike boxes were everywhere. People were assembling bikes and disassembling bikes in the terminal. There was more traffic at the oversized baggage claim gathering bike boxes than there was at the regular baggage claim. We crammed six bike boxes and the rest of our luggage into our van and headed across the island to our villa, getting excited by the handfuls of cyclists we spotted on occasion along the way. If we only knew what was to come….

Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good, and on this trip we certainly had our fair share of luck. Our first strike of good fortune occurred the first evening and indeed set us up for rides for the entire week. We were wandering the town of Puerto Pollensa looking for some place open for an early dinner (7pm is before the early bird special in Spain), when we spotted an Irish pub down a side street that looked open. What do you know, but directly across the street from the pub was a bike shop so naturally we wandered in to take a gander at the wares. There we met Gary Smith, the retired owner of Evans Cycles, the UK’s version of Performance Bikes, and Bruce Griffiths, the owner of the shop, Pro Cycle Hire. These contacts would prove very helpful throughout the week. But, most importantly we learned to just show up every morning at 9:15am in front of Tolo’s Restaurant where the locals gather to ride. I’m sure it is impossible to have a bad ride in Majorca, but had we been left to follow maps and navigate for ourselves we most certainly would have ended up on relatively major roads and not fully experienced the backroad alleys and farm paths that we were led down by the locals.

It is impossible to adequately describe how incredible the riding in Majorca is, so I’ll let my pictures and video do the talking.

If I had to imagine what heaven for a cyclist would be, I would likely describe Majorca. Cyclists have indeed taken over the island. Cars are second class citizens and they know it. When you approach an intersection you slow as much to look out for a crossing peloton as to look out for a crossing car. Unlike in Girona, where you knew it if you crossed paths with a pro team, in Majorca you’d never realize it as they would blend in with the tens of thousands of other cyclists on the roads. Though we did bump into Sean Kelly one day at a lunch stop. The weather was ideal; the first 3 days we had cloud cover and experienced maybe one hour of drizzles. The remainder of the week was splendid sunshine and shorts and short sleeve jersey weather. The island offers up any kind of riding you desire, flat, country roads, gradual climbs, or legitimate mountains with steep, switchback climbs overlooking cliffs to the Mediterranean below.

Every ride was memorable and noteworthy, but two I will remember for a long time. The first is the climb up the Puiz Major, the highest point on the island. The climb starts at the beach in Port de Soller and climbs 1000 meters in 9 miles. We had been told that one hour is considered the benchmark of a good time and that Jan Ullrich and the T*Mobile team do repeats up the climb in roughly 40 minutes. So, with one hour on the brain and knowing I had done longer climbs the previous two weeks I found a pace I thought I could maintain for an hour. After about 45 minutes I was starting to suffer but also starting to think that I was some kind of stud. For 45 minutes I had been passing a constant stream of riders, many of whom had ripped calves and looked like legitimate cyclists, and I had not been passed even once. Just like when going up the Le Turo d’leHomme the previous week I was in need of a good dose of humility and would shortly receive it. I didn’t just get passed, a blur of muscle and blue jersey shot by me like he was on a motorcycle. And, once again I have it all on video so I can relive my dressing down when I again get too big for my britches. Presumably this guy knew the summit of the climb was only two switchbacks away and was sprinting for the top, but regardless my piece of humble pie had been served. Put in place I continued up the hill catching a few more riders and summitted in 52 minutes. Proud of myself and ready to bask in my domination of the hour threshold, Amy rolled over the top only moments later in 55 minutes, a time that was the talk of the locals crowd that evening at Tolo’s.

While the climb from sea level to the highest point on the island was amazing and memorable, by far and away the highlight of the trip was La Colabra. This climb goes from sea level to 800 meters in only 6 miles, but what really makes it memorable is the road itself. We had been told that this is the only hors categorie (beyond categorization) climb on the island, but I’m skeptical that it is indeed an HC climb as Le Turo d’leHomme outside Girona is a Cat 1 climb and definitely harder. The road is 6 miles of ridiculously snaking switchbacks that essentially make their way straight up a cliff. The descent was fun but a bit hairy with the super tight turns requiring a slow speed and steady bike handling. It is definitely worth checking out the pictures and videos of the Colabra descent. After riding the descent and having heard all the hype of La Colabra we were pretty intimidated by the climb, but in reality it wasn’t as hard as anticipated. It took me 39 minutes and Amy 42, and both of us were in agreement that we took it a little too conservatively initially as the climb turned out not to be as difficult as we had feared, and agreed the climb up Puiz Major was more difficult.

La Colabra was a fantastic way to end the week, and indeed end three weeks of heavy training for me. It was sad to leave Majorca, but I was ready to put my bike away for a few days.

Week’s Tally: 7 rides, 520 miles
Trip Tally: 20 rides, 1447 miles

Photo Highlights From Majorca
Nice Majorcan Roads and more and more and more
Amy and Chas climb Cap de Formentor
Clouds and Cliffs and more Clouds and Cliffs
Chas finds the hole in the defense
Majorcan Roads and more and more and more
Chas, Amy, Kyle decked out in our new team colors
Amy on switchback below returning from Cap de Formentor
Ride hard, party hard, aka Kyle is a lucky man
Chas and Amy heading up Soller
View from Port de Soller, the base of the Puiz Major climb
View from near the summit
The Cap de Formentor is stunning 2 3 4 5 6
Amy, Chas, Kyle at base of Orient descent
The gang in our new kits in front of Pro Cycle Hire
Chas (nice hair), Gary, Julie, Amy getting mentally prepared for La Colabra
La Colabra is absolutely stunning! 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Video Highlights From Majorca
Awesome high speed descent from Formentor to Pollensa (4:00, 25.0MB)

Amazing ride to Cap de Formentor lighthouse (3:21, 20.9MB)

La Colabra descent (1st half) (5:20, 33.4MB) and 2nd half (5:10, 32.2MB) and view from all the way at the top (1:16, 8.1MB)

Descend from Lluc to Pollensa (6:32, 40.9MB)
Descend Soller - 20 some tight switchbacks (7:36, 47.3MB)
Summit the Puiz Major and go through tunnel (4:56, 28.6MB)
Puiz Major descent - fast, scenic, with tunnel (3:15, 19.9MB)
Scenic return trip from Formentor with high speed tunnel (3:22, 20.7MB)
Most excellent Orient descent, fast and smooth roads (7:04, 44.1MB)
Nice Majorcan Roads (1:34, 10.0MB)

Next: Week 4 - England and Tour of Flanders

Jump to: Intro Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

Week 4: Tour of Flanders

2006-04-10T18:55:00.000-04:00

Click here for Pictures and Video of the Tour of Flanders.

While everyone else returned to Washington, DC I headed with Amy to her home in Nottingham, England. The following weekend we would head to Ninove, Belgium to participate in the recreational cyclists running of the Tour of Flanders. I was happy to have a few days off the bike and be a tourist in London and Nottingham.

On Friday, I piled into a car with Amy and Mark and Matt, two of her riding friends from Nottingham, and we headed for Belgium. The Tour of Flanders is one of the “One Day Classics” for the European pro racing circuit. The race is on Sunday, and on Saturday they open up the route to “cycling tourists”. Those who design these Classics like Flanders and Paris-Roubaix are simply sadistic. The entire goal appears to be to create a course that is so brutal as to inflict as much carnage as possible in order to maximize entertainment for the spectators. Tour of Flanders, or de Ronde van Vlaanderen as it is known in Belgium, is widely considered to be the hardest one day race in cycling due a combination of the distance, the regularly nasty Belgian conditions, the cobblestones, and the steep “bergs” that kick in after 110 miles of riding. I was well aware of the reputation and had been given fair warning by pros I had encountered during my first two weeks around Girona of what to expect, but even so the difficulty and harshness of this event caught me by surprise.

15,000 “cycling tourists” were registered to participate in the Saturday event. Of those, the vast majority were logical, rational people and registered for the 150km portion which covers only the final 90 miles of the course but still encounters all of the cobblestones and famous bergs. Amy, Matt, Mark, and I are apparently not logical, rational people; we had signed up for the full 165 mile event. I don’t know how many people were scared off by the weather forecast of thunder and lightning, torrential downpours, 30-40mph winds, and hail, but bright and early Saturday morning we found ourselves amongst huge crowds off cyclists at the start in Brugges.

13 seconds. 0:00:13 on the bike computer is when the first raindrops hit me. After three weeks of riding in Spain with maybe one hour of light drizzle total, my payback time had come exactly 13 seconds into a 170 mile day. Within 5 minutes the monsoon was upon us. Thunder and lightning were spotted in the distance, the rain was hitting us in sheets, and we were getting thrown around with massive gusts of winds off the North Sea. I do feel a bit cheated, though, we never did encounter the hail that had been forecast. I had anticipated the first 90 or so miles to be uneventful and planned to expend as little energy as possible. The real action starts between miles 90 and 100 when the cobblestones begin and then the climbs kick in to add insult to injury. So, I had expected to sit in large pelotons for the majority of the first 90 miles and just watch the miles tick off with as little effort as possible. Not so. While there were large numbers of riders everywhere, the torrential downpour and the brutal cross and headwinds would quickly break up any kind of tight, organized pack riding that might form. I often found myself working hard to close down gaps that would form ahead me. I was working hard both physically and mentally. It takes serious concentration to ride in a pack in the terrible conditions we were in, but not riding in a pack and being fully exposed to the winds was a far worse proposition. In hindsight I’m happy to have had those conditions as we received the full Flanders experience, but at the time it was no fun at all. It was hard work, the miles were not ticking off quickly and effortlessly, and we were covered in what I later learned is known as “Belgian toothpaste”, a road mix of dirt, grease, manure, fertilizer, rain, …..

Eating and drinking were virtually impossible as you needed two hands on your brake hoods at all times. Crashes were plentiful and literally every few hundred yards was a poor soul changing a flat tire in the cold, wet, windy conditions. We rolled into the first checkpoint at mile 30, and I was tired, not enjoying the experience and quite concerned with how I was going to manage another 140 miles, especially as the hard stuff doesn’t begin until after mile 100.

Luckily things got better. We had some more bad weather, but for the most part the worst of it was encountered in the first 30 miles. Somewhere around mile 50 we turned inland and had a most amazing tailwind. Suddenly the roads were drying, we had a massive tailwind, we were riding in a good group, and the miles were ticking off effortlessly like I had planned on. I had been warned by a German pro we rode with in Girona to be ready for cold, wet, wind, sun, or heat. I didn’t realize he meant AND not OR. Never have I experienced such a range of conditions in one day, all we were lacking was hail and snow. By mile 90 the roads were drying and the sun was blaring, the only constant throughout the day was the tree-bending and flag-snapping high winds.

Somewhere around mile 90 we hit the first stretch of cobblestones. Over the entire course there is about 40km, or 25 miles, of cobblestone roads, some stretches as long as 3 miles others just a few hundred meters. I was ready for the cobbles, or so I thought. I’m a big rider and the strategy for riding cobbles is to put it in a big gear and hammer through the rattling by keeping a good hard pressure on the pedals. This is not the terrain for the finesse rider, and I am no finesse rider so I figured I would be fine. I had been adequately warned by the German pro in Girona, as he told me stories of broken seatposts and broken stems and other catastrophic bike failures caused by the cobblestones and warned me to make sure my bike was in good condition and well tuned before the ride. I heard all this, but still I definitely didn’t really comprehend what was in store for me. To say I underestimated the difficulty of the cobblestones would be a dramatic understatement. Within the first 100 meters of the first stretch of bad cobbles I understood. The gutter along the side was filled with bike bottles jettisoned from bouncing bikes, and these aren’t bottles flying out of the rear saddle cages of triathlon bikes, these are bottles flying out of the frame cages, something I had never seen before even riding across Africa. Someone was trying to reattach his saddle bag. Someone else was tending to a puncture. And this was in the first 100 meters of 25 total miles of cobblestone riding. This first stretch lasted roughly a mile and produced some spectacular carnage. One rider tried his luck riding the gutter at the side of the road and ended up falling off into the water-filled ditch. Multiple riders were walking their bikes, debilitated by punctures or broken spokes or worse. The road was filled in bike detritus, anything not very well secured was likely to end up in the mud at the side of the road. When I finally reached the end of this first stretch of cobbles and managed to unwind my hands from their death grip on the handlebars I caught up to Mark, looked at him, and we both just started laughing. “That was a little more challenging than I expected” he said and started laughing again. We waited for Amy and she emerged unscathed, but not looking too ecstatic at the prospect of 24 more similar miles. She muttered some comment under her breath about effects on her reproductive abilities, I told her to quit her bellyaching, and we continued on our way. For the most part the remaining cobblestone stretches were not nearly so severe, but we encountered probably 3 or 4 more similar stretches throughout the remainder of the day, and we all came to the conclusion that it’s more fun to watch the pros ride the cobblestones on TV than to do it yourself.

We were now about 100 miles into the ride and we knew the hills were soon approaching. The climbs in Tour of Flanders are not particularly high or long, but they are steep and often cobbled. Tiny, narrow cobbled paths through farms appear to seek out the only hill around and head straight up it. In Tour of Flanders there are 17 named climbs, and for the most part are all less than a mile in length and usually only a couple hundred meters of a climb are really steep. Many of the climbs exceed 20% gradient, and the Koppenberg and Muir-KapelMuir which reach 24% and 21% on cobblestones respectively are well known in the cycling world as classic climbs. So, around this 100 mile point, Mark and I were riding side by side and we looked at each other quizzically, both with the same question on our mind. We had recently ridden a long cobbled stretch of probably 2-3 miles up a long, but gradual hill. Now we were riding a paved road up another long, not all that gradual hill. We had definitely moved out of the flats, could that gradual cobbled climb have been the first climb and now this long haul hill is the second? It didn’t seem to fit what we were expecting, but we certainly had started climbing. So, I rolled up next to the man ahead of me who had the profile and names of all the climbs taped to his stem and asked him whether we were on one of the climbs. He just looked at me and laughed. I put my tail between my legs and coasted back to Mark.

Having drastically underestimated the difficulty of the first 90 flat miles and the difficulty of the cobblestones, and now having been laughed at for suggesting the hill we were climbing was one of the climbs that makes Tour of Flanders famous, I was sufficiently scared of what was coming our way. Mark and I had discussed our prospects earlier and had decided we hoped to be able to summit 10 out of the 17 climbs. Shortly we would find out what was reasonable. Soon enough, I could see riders up ahead taking a sharp right turn onto what appeared to be a sidewalk or small trail. As I got closer I could hear the click-click-click as riders shifted into their small rings and climbing gears. Sufficiently scared I did the same. We were at Climb #1, the Molenberg. Right turn onto a cobbled path and ahead loomed a wall with a maximum grade of 19%. The climb was short and before long I was over the steepest section and out of danger of coming off my bike. It turned out the hardest part of getting over the climb was that there were so many riders around that they bottled up and I was forced to climb at a super slow pace and staying upright just due to lack of momentum proved the hardest part. Also, minutes before we reached this climb a shower had passed by so this was the only climb of the day we had to do on wet cobbles. Nonetheless, Amy, Mark, and I all cleared the hill with no real difficulty and my confidence for the remaining 16 dramatically increased.

Checkpoint 3 came after the first two climbs and shortly before the famous Koppenberg. We waited at checkpoint 3 for Matt to catch us and waited and waited. And then we waited some more. No sign of him and no call from him on our phone. There had been so much carnage on the cobbles we were worried he had crashed or destroyed his bike. Finally after over an hour of waiting and figuring we still had 60-70 miles to go and daylight was going to become an issue if we continued waiting we headed on our way. It turns out this delay was a very wise strategic move. The hardest part of getting up the first climb, the Molenberg, had been the crowds of riders and if just one had been forced to dismount all those behind him would have been forced to as well. This problem was now solved for us; the road now contained only the occasional rider, and Mark, Amy, and I were now riding super strongly, blowing by the stragglers around us. Of course, we were now on our own for getting through the winds and we ran the risk of getting lost, but luckily never went too far off course.

The anticipation for the Koppenberg was agonizing. We could see the tents and equipment at the summit from miles away and hear the music playing. Then we seemed to turn away endlessly. Eventually we saw riders ahead making a right turn onto cobbles and then we made the turn and saw the wall before us. The climb started out gradual enough, and spectators were there to provide support, or laugh at the poor recreational cyclists flail on this cycling monument, or both. Towards the beginning of the climb I hear a spectator say to Amy “Keep pushing, sweetheart” and I laughed and thought how amazing it was that of the thousands of cyclists doing this event I had seen exactly one other female all day. Soon enough the climb kicked up and got tough. Luckily the cobbles were dry, but not towards the side of the road. Folks were walking their bikes up the hill so I had to navigate around them. Up the road Mark made a tactical error and tried to ride the smoother, but wet, gutter on the side, and his rear wheel spun out and he fell off, right in my path. I yelled at him to get out of my way and he made a very agile leap to the side in his cycling shoes on cobbles. I suspect he may have been a ballerina in prior years. Behind me I hear a shriek, and it turns out someone has fallen into Amy taking her out and ruining her chances at conquering the Koppenberg. I am in my 39/27 barely turning my gears over and unable to get out of my saddle for risk of my rear wheel spinning out. Spectators and athletes walking their bikes are actually cheering for me and it seems like I am the only one on the hill still riding. Soon enough the steepest part is behind me and I no longer feel at risk of falling over. A few more cheers at the top and I’ve topped the Koppenberg. You can watch my struggle up the Koppenberg here. A bit later Mark rolls over the top somehow managing to get started again on a less steep part and shortly after that Amy walks over the top. I suggest to Amy and Mark that we head back down to try again, but thankfully they decline, as mine was a hollow offer - no chance I was heading back down that cliff. Had the cobbles been wet or a rider near me dismounted there would have been no chance I would have made it, so it was luck as much as anything that I managed to summit the Koppenberg. Indeed, this is where we would watch the pro race from the following day, and a Rabobank rider loses control similar to how Mark did and essentially caused the entire peloton to have to run or walk their bikes up the climb. And, yes, I have video footage of me making it over the climb and the pros failing at it, so I think I’ll keep that one in my personal highlight film!

After the Koppenberg we knew it didn’t get any worse so we started to feel better about getting through the day. The only real risk remaining was the Muur-KapelMuur, which was a 21% cobbled climb, but the cobbles were dry and much smoother than the Koppenberg cobbles so it proved to not be as difficult as feared. Although we had 13 climbs and 50 miles to go after the Koppenberg, Mark, Amy, and I could sense the finish and were feeling great and we just crushed the remainder of the course. We would count down the climbs as we went over them and then started counting down the miles. After 165 miles and about 45 minutes before dark we took a right turn and saw the Ronde van Vlaanderen finishing banner and stands dead ahead. Mark took off in a roadie sprint and I rolled through the finish with Amy. Nine hours and 59 minutes of riding and we had conquered de Ronde van Vlaaderen. No punctures, no crashes, no mechanicals, and I managed all 17 climbs while Amy and Mark only succumbed to the Koppenberg. Matt was waiting for us at the finish somehow having blown right past Checkpoint 3. A beer, a brat, and some pictures later and we were back on our bikes for the 6 mile ride to the hotel, the hardest section of riding the entire day.

The following day we awoke to identical monsoon weather and laughed at the pros who had to ride in those conditions. We watched the race at the Koppenberg which turned out to be the decisive point in the race as only about 12 riders got through cleanly before a rider fell causing the whole peloton to have to walk up the hill. I got some amazing super close-up footage of the frustrated riders walking their bikes up the hill, and indeed, you can see me on the OLN broadcast leaning through the barbed wire fence and holding my camera out into the faces of the riders. Come on, if those guys can’t climb a hill that I managed the previous day they deserve a little humiliation, right? After the excitement moved on to subsequent bergs we walked down the hill to a tent at the bottom and drank Belgian beer and watched the race on TV with the locals, celebrating with them as Belgian Tom Boonen won for the 2nd year in a row.

After a bizarre night of celebrating with the Belgians, the fun had finally ended. It was time to return home. From start to finish it was an incredible trip. Four weeks of incredible riding in incredible locations. 1700 miles, no crashes, no flat tires, no riding incidents of any kind. You can be certain I will be back again in years to come!

Photo Highlights From Tour of Flanders
Getting started shortly after dawn 2
Belgian toothpaste really whitens your teeth 2 3 4 5
The Moots took a beating but was reliable all month long
Looking down the Koppenberg
Happy Finishers! And again!

Video Highlights From the Tour of Flanders
Kyle, Amy, and Mark tackle the Koppenberg (4:47, 29.9MB)
...And the Pros try it the next day (6:32, 40.8MB)
Kyle, Amy, Mark dominate the Muur-KapelMuur (5:38, 35.2MB)
Paved Flanders farm roads (0:46, 4.9MB) and again (1:02, 6.6MB) and one more (0:42, 4.4MB)
These are smooth cobbles (2:19, 14.6MB)
A paved berg (2:57, 18.4MB) and a hard one (2:05, 13.0MB)
The tip of the Bosberg (1:44, 10.8MB)
The finishing straight! (0:53, 5.65MB)

Jump to: Intro Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4

Hurricane Katrina Relief Volunteering

2005-12-10T23:52:00.000-05:00

Pictures at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/1491660/

Hello all!

As you most likely know, I am currently in Biloxi, MS helping a grassroots volunteer organization with hurricane recovery efforts. I typically head off on relatively spontaneous trips when a work project ends and I don't have another one lined up to immediately follow, but this time instead of heading over to Europe to visit a friend (don't worry, Amy, I'll visit eventually....) or to Tucson to train (and yes, Chuck, also to visit a friend) I thought I would try something a little less selfish. After a short bit of research I uncovered Hands On USA (http://www.handsonusa.org/), a volunteer organization that has set up shop in Biloxi. Unlike other organizations like the Red Cross or Salvation Army, this group doesn't require any formalized training or much at all in the way of planning. "Just give us a days notice" they told me. That's my kind of planning ahead, so down I went.

I've only been here three days, but already I'm blown away by what I've seen and experienced. Although the hurricane happened over three months ago, it looks as if it could just have easily happened last week. Destroyed houses are everywhere, crushed, overturned cars are everywhere, large boats sit in fields, the casino barges sit on dry land, it's impossible to navigate by car as virtually all street signs have been blown down, multiple square blocks of formerly residential areas are nothing but rubble. It's absolutely mind-blowing and the scope is so large that pictures simply cannot convey the extent of the devastation. At times I take it all in and think how cool it is to see all of it, as if this were another journey of mine to Africa or the Galapagos or Australia, but then I realize that this is not some cool adventure, and this is America not Sudan, and people's lives have been destroyed and an entire region of the country is hurting in a bad way.

Hands On USA does a little bit of everything; whatever needs are out there in the community that can be staffed by untrained volunteers they are willing to accept as a project. This means that there are opportunities to work at distribution centers handing out supplies, at the Humane Society walking stranded dogs, at the Community Center playing with kids, delivering supplies and medicine to people who are unable to get to distribution centers, and so on. But, by far the largest amount of work to do, and what the majority of the volunteers here are doing is physical reconstruction work. OK, usually it's more like physical destruction work. Gutting houses, tarping roofs, building wheelchair ramps for the FEMA trailers residents are gradually receiving, de-molding interiors, tree removal, and clearing the interiors of houses of everything the person used to own. It's very hard work and it is endless. Amazingly, there seem to be few other charity organizations doing similar work, and the area certainly is not crawling with paid contractors to handle the supply. Why, I do not know, and perhaps I am wrong as this is only my impression, but I am certainly not wrong in that this is over three months old and there is still an endless supply of houses waiting to be cleaned out, gutted, de-molded, and then reconstructed. It seems to me like this area has been killed and then put on pause. Most residents have moved away, and rebuilding exists, but not nearly on the scale expected for the amount of destruction that exists. Currently HandsOnUSA has only 50 people volunteering (around Thanksgiving they were up at 130 and large number are expected in the coming weeks), yet I see other HOUSA teams more than any other charity organization down here. We're working in the poorest county in the poorest state in the country, and 75% of the people did not have flood insurance, so they are quite appreciative to have the free labor. The process we handle for a house typically takes a team of 6-8 about 2-3 days, and that's to remove all appliances (never open the fridge!) and belongings, completely gut the house (remove drywall, molding, window/door frames, ....), and then de-mold (nasty - I have yet to do this), and contractor teams charge about $6-8000 for this work.

So far, I've been involved mostly with clearing out a house and gutting a house. For half of one day I worked at the Salvation Army warehouse, essentially sorting used clothes. The amount of supplies in this warehouse is mind-boggling, but what I'm unsure of is how effectively the supplies get from the warehouse to the people in need. Suffice it to say, though, if you've donated to Salvation Army, it very likely has not been discarded! The day (today) spent gutting a house was dirty, hard work. Being tall was definitely a hindrance for this one, as I got the privilege of clearing all the drywall near the ceiling, and a day of wielding a crowbar over your head will leave you with exhausted arms - believe me! Clearing a house of all belongings was difficult as well, but also the most emotional experience I've had yet. The owner was an 80ish man with cancer, and on the "scouting" mission the previous day he had supposedly gone through with one of our volunteers and identified everything to be salvaged, so we had free reign to destroy and discard to our hearts content. He had had over 15 feet of water in the house (one floor + attic), so everything was a total loss. We rolled through with destruction on the mind and cleared out all appliances and furniture and started shoveling everything else (books, kitchen stuff, toys, everything). I came across his deceased wife's wedding dress and a bag containing literally hundreds of soggy love letters she had written him during the Korean War. I went out to his FEMA trailer in the yard to ask if he wanted to try and salvage them and he was so thankful I had uncovered them.

This is definitely no sight-seeing vacation. The work is hard and we work a long day. I camp and am up around 6:30, and then eat a large breakfast, work a full morning, eat an Army MRE for lunch, and then an afternoon of work. Dinner is around 7, and people socialize a bit but generally are to sleep by 10:30 or so. The demographic is pretty interesting. Definitely the very liberal, granola, save-the-world crowd that you'd expect in this environment, but I'm surprised by the number of folks who are here more or less permanently. I'd say a good 50+% of the folks are recent college grads who have not yet started upon a career path with conviction, so this is an expense-free, rewarding place to live and work and be able to hang out with your peers. Then there are a large number of older (50+) folks, many of whom have a relevant skill (MD, RN, carpenter, contractor, plumber, .....). Honestly, I bet I'm the only person here currently between 26 and 44, and in many ways I feel a bit like the odd man out. It's kind of similar to the Africa trip; I don't really get along with the young, kind of immature group, and I don't have much in common with the senior crowd. Like Africa, though, I've found myself gravitating more towards the older crowd, God, how sad.... :)

I'm often asked why I'm here, and the stock answer is that I wanted to help others and experience something unique myself. But, I'm not sure of the real answer. Most of my charity in recent years has simply been donating money, and I do feel like that's just been taking the easy way out to make myself feel like I'm doing something. But, truly, if my sole goal was to make a difference down here then I should be camped outside of Mike Saylor's house and others I know with money and harassing them until I've come up with $5M or something truly substantial. The scope of what's happened down here is so massive, that my personal effort is completely irrelevant in the scheme of it. Yes, it's nice to see an old man smile and thank me profusely when I uncover some 50 year old letters from his wife, but realistically, I think I'm here for the personal experience and to see first-hand a disaster area, but if I can do that in a mutually beneficial way then fine.

Anyway, here are some pictures I have taken. I planned to add meaningful names and descriptions to them, but I need sleep. All of these pictures except 5 or 6 were taken on a "run" I took on the road along the coast. For the most part these homes were large, antebellum homes, and they took incredible damage being right on the water, but they are mostly still standing. The real awe-inspiring views I have yet to photograph, and that's of entire blocks of shanty wood-frame homes that are nothing but rubble.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/1491660/

Take care,
Kyle

------------------------
Hello again. I am back in DC, safe and mostly sound. I've added more pictures and added descriptions to the pictures in my flickr album at http://www.flickr.com/photos/kyleyost/sets/1491660/

I spent a bit less than two weeks down in Biloxi, MS, and all told it was a very rewarding and definitely an eye-opening experience. As I had hoped, I was able to perform a wide variety of volunteering tasks, and aside from a large chunk of drywall that fell from the ceiling and caught me square in the head, I return unscathed. My tasks included working at the Salvation Army regional warehouse sorting and organizing, working at a local distribution center handing out supplies to residents, walking dogs and cleaning pens at the Humane Society (and trying my best to find someone who would adopt a dog so I could bring one home with me....), helping to remove fallen trees from houses, learning to shingle roofs and helping repair the destroyed roof at our home facility. But, mostly I worked on the "Interiors" crew clearing debris from houses and gutting them until only a skeleton of support studs remain. In fact, I became so adept at this task of destruction that I actually became a crew chief for Interiors, at which point I knew it was time to get heading on home before they became too dependent on me. Oh, and of course, I (and 2 others) did cook dinner for 80 one night. Now, that is a lot of work!

So, what were my impressions? Well, first that the magnitude and scope of the devastation is so vast that it will take years to rebuild in the best of scenarios. Even if the local and federal governments were efficient and effective and money were plentiful and wisely allocated, the hundreds of thousands of homes and businesses destroyed over several hundred miles of coastline would take years to rebuild. That's the best case and that clearly is not what's occuring. I was struck by how the area we were working in, East Biloxi, is essentially a ghost town and very little work is being done. There is activity along the coastline where the casinos and the big hotels and the large, historic homes are located, but nothing in the poorer areas of town. I spent a day and traveled to New Orleans (about 90 miles west) and the difference was obvious. The French Quarter is rebuilt and reopened and more or less looks and feels as if nothing ever happened (I posted some photos of Bourbon St.). But, even in the poorer, more heavily flooded areas of town (I was not allowed in the just reopened Lower 9th Ward), where virtually every house needs to be gutted and rebuilt, the difference between the rebuilding effort in New Orleans vs Biloxi/Gulfport is blindingly apparent. In New Orleans there are contractors and teams of laborers and pickup trucks full of tools and white contractor vans everywhere. The streets are full of activity of houses being gutted or de-molded or in various stages of being rebuilt. Police cars are driving around. Back in Mississippi nothing is happening, at least in our area of Biloxi, which was the hardest hit area. The mayor of New Orleans and governor of Louisiana, while they are fools who do little other than put their feet in their mouth, have at least been vocal fools and have drawn attention and money to New Orleans. I don't know who's to blame for the lack of activity in Biloxi/Gulfport, but you certainly don't hear of a mayor or governor or congressman yelling and screaming bloody murder that there's no money for rebuilding and no contractors and no progress. Meanwhile the casinos are rebuilding and shortly will be poised to scoop up large tracts of formerly residential land on the cheap. That's my impression, at least.

One thing I had hoped to have the opportunity to do more of than I did was to interact with members of the community. When gutting interiors sometime the owner of the house would be on site living in a FEMA trailer, but even that did not allow for much interaction. However, one of the more meaningful days I had was the day I worked at a distribution center in the heart of East Biloxi handing out supplies to residents. Amazingly, with all the resources that Salvation Army and Red Cross have to bear, this distribution center, which shares half of the Biloxi Community Center with FEMA loan assistance, was started and is completely run by one guy, David Romero. He had some ties to the area, either an ex-girlfriend or a gambling problem or something, but regardless he came down shortly after the storm and hasn't left. This has become the primary distribution center for supplies for Biloxi, and David has received a fair amount of national attention (including a visit from Laura Bush) so he is receiving a decent supply of donations. HandsOnUSA offers up people to help him with unloading trucks, finding a way to fit whatever random stuff is donated into the small area of the center that he has allocated to this, and keeping the shelves full and organized as the residents scramble and search for supplies. I did this work one day and it was quite rewarding and I got the opportunity to speak to a number of residents about their experiences. Go check out http://www.midwesthelp.org/ to read about David Romero, and he's also got a photo gallery with some pretty awesome shots. I've also added some pictures to my flickr album of the center and the day there.

Now I'm home, so what now? Unfortunately Katrina is out of the public's eye and the Bush administration is content to keep it that way so as not to remind the public of the response fiasco. The Salvation Army and Red Cross are each lessening their presences there in the coming months, despite the fact that people are stilling living in tents, in and under abandoned homes, or entire extended families are crammed into a relatives home that has power and water. I learned while down there, and particularly from working at the distribution center, that some supplies are plentiful (bottled water, toiletries, diapers) but others are in great demand. Particulary canned food, dog/cat food and warm clothing. Blankets, sleeping bags, coats, sweaters, long pants are in huge demand. I'm not going to send heavy canned foods down there, but I do intend to collect as much warm clothing as possible and send it directly to David Romero's distribution center. If you have any warm clothing or blankets you would like to add to my shipment, please let me know. Having worked at the center, I can tell you with great confidence that the packages will be opened, followed by great glee by the volunteers at the contents. Then they will immediately be placed on the clothing tables and scooped up by residents within minutes. While it is certainly worthy to give to Salvation Army and Goodwill, I'm quite certain the turnaround time to getting the items to the people who need them is quite a bit longer.

In addition to sending clothing and blankets and such to David's group, there is lots more I would like to do, and I pass along some of the opportunities to you. Contact me if there is interest and I will coordinate with you.

First of all, while working at the distribution center I collected information on families that came through with young children. I've got info on 7-8 families and a total of 20 or so children ranging in age from weeks to 13 or so, and I thought it would be sad if they received no gifts for Christmas. If you want to cover a whole family or just throw in a toy or ball or doll into the pot for me to divy up across families, let me know because Christmas is approaching and delivery service is questionable down there so I may have to send to HOUSA and ask them to try and hand-deliver, so I'd like to get stuff out by this weekend.

Finally, there are plenty of opportunities through other organizations to provide help from afar. I asked around at HOUSA and came up with the following list of organizations they endorse. If you are interested in any of these, let me know and I will give you the contact information that I have.

Mercy Ships: Sponsor a Home Rebuilding - organization provides volunteer labor to rebuild homes, however the cost of materials must be covered by donations. $4000 covers full sponsorship of complete rebuilding of a home.

Adopt a Family - http://www.family-to-family.org/
The local Center for Prevention of Child Abuse manages an adopt a family and annual sponsorship program. I don't see it on the website http://www.mscpca.com/, however.

-Kyle

Follow-up:
Hello again. I apologize once again for the mass email. This will be the last, I promise.

I want to thank everyone who "adopted" a family and covered their Christmas gifts. You have made the holiday season for 9 families and almost 30 children! I also want to thank everyone who gave me clothes and/or gear or sent directly to Biloxi. If you live in the DC area and have warm clothes or blankets or camping gear that you don't use and want to give, I lucked out and found someone who is driving down to Biloxi on Friday morning and has a pickup truck, so I can avoid the cost of shipping. We just need to get together to get me the stuff by tomorrow evening if you do have you'd like to donate.

Finally, if you have stuff and want to send directly, here is the mailing address for the distribution center:

Biloxi Community Center c/o David Romero
591 Howard Avenue
Biloxi, MS 39530

Be sure to make it obvious that it is for David Romero, as his group shares the building with FEMA and supposedly mislabeled or ambiguous packages have languished unopened on the other half of the building.

Thanks again everyone! Happy Holidays!
-Kyle

Epic Ride: DC to Deep Creek

2005-06-20T23:49:00.000-04:00

Washington, DC to Deep Creek Lake, MD Ride Report

Date: Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Comment: the things we do for fun......

Ride Report: There is a point at which endurance athletes cross that line, the point at which even the athlete himself must acknowledge that he's taken this hobby a little far and that any rational person would consider his activities simply "weird". To some you may have crossed that loco point when you chose to ride your bike 50 miles or train for a marathon. To others it may all seem like a normal, sane endeavor up until you choose to do something like a 100-mile trail run in the mountains or race your bike across the country (RAAM). I don't know where it is, but that point where you have simply become weird is out there, and in all likelihood you've probably reached that point with at least some of your friends or family. I've completed two Ironmans and have many times encountered the "you're nuts" sentiment from friends, family and people I meet. But, usually I am able to convince them of my sanity by describing the magnitude of the event, explaining that it's really not as daunting as it sounds, and that I actually manage to maintain a healthy life balance.

Well, any arguments that I previously used that I had not crossed that line are now obliterated, and I have only my friend Amy Smith to blame. When a good friend is moving out of the country and has a request for a farewell present, it's only polite to acquiesce, right? So when Amy requested to our small training group that what she wanted as a parting gift was a final epic ride that would be remembered for a long time, could I really decline? Even if it was Tuesday afternoon and the only time it could be pulled off before she left the country was one of the following two days? And, even if only one other person is willing and able to do it during the week. I mean, who am I to say "No"? What kind of a friend would I be?

The initial idea thrown out there was a 150ish mile ride starting from Marshall and hitting all the big hills out there: Naked Mtn, Mt. Weather x 2, Skyline Drive to Panorama, and Massanutten. But then the idea of riding from downtown Washington, DC to Deep Creek Lake soon was tossed into the mix. Something about a point-to-point ride seems so much more epic, plus we had recently been out to Deep Creek Lake to do some training in the mountains out there, so the idea of actually riding our bikes out there seemed so cool. Problem is, it looked to be close to 200 miles and the Allegheny Mountains are just plain mean, making Skyline and Mt. Weather type climbs seem like a walk in the park.

So, on Tuesday evening we decided we would give it a shot the next morning. I pulled out some maps and my topographic software and plotted out a course, hoping I had chosen roads that 1) were paved, 2) were not highways, 3) had the occasional gas station or country store, and 4) did not go straight up and over the mountains as the roads out there have a tendency to do. The logical thing to do would be to drive out there and ride home, as that would be net downhill, more likely provide a tailwind, and if we ran into problems we'd be heading towards DC not away from it. But, if we did that we wouldn't be able to get off our bikes and jump into the lake, and if you're going to do something epic why look for the easy way out? So, without much debate we settled on riding out and driving home. And, with a little bribe of a beautiful house on a lake to stay at for two days we conned a friend into driving a car out there so we could get back home again.

At 6:10am Wednesday morning, Amy, Mike Boorstein, and myself were in the saddle and departed from my house in Georgetown. I figured this gave us about 14 hours of daylight and I didn't expect we'd need all of it. I sure hoped we wouldn't as we didn't have much in the way of contingency plans. Cell phones would not work for the vast majority of where we were heading, and for much of the ride we'd be going through the boonies of West Virginia. It was a beautiful, cool and moist morning and it felt so pleasant to be starting our long day heading out Macarthur Blvd and River Road and heading against the constant stream of traffic heading into work in DC. Less than 20 miles into our ride I got the first wakeup call that perhaps not everything would go according to plan. Mike, who is one tough SOB and never, ever complains, announces out of the blue that he's not going to be able to complete the ride as his knee is killing him and getting worse by the mile. Luckily, the timing is good as our driver is just heading out towards Poolesville and picks him up there. So, now less than 30 miles in and not even 8 in the morning it's just me and Amy and 160ish miles to go.

For those who don't know Amy, she can ride a bike. She is the answer to that oft-asked question during the past two Tour de Skylines of "Who is that girl riding with the big dogs?" And, somehow she has this crazy ability to get stronger as a ride gets longer. I, on the other hand, have not had a ride in which I've felt strong in close to 4 weeks, including a mountain century from hell at Deep Creek and a powerless, miserable Eagleman bike leg. So, here I am, just beginning what will be by far my longest ride ever, with someone who gets stronger the longer the ride goes and who has handed me my ass twice on rides in recent weeks, and I can't help thinking to myself, "Is someone playing a practical joke on me? Yesterday afternoon I was happily at work without a clue in the world I'd be doing this today."

The ride progressed smoothly through Potomac, Seneca, Poolesville, and Point of Rocks, but as we head through Brunswick and towards Harpers Ferry the slight headwind kicks up strongly to gale-force and shortly the skies open up. All this occurs right as we are forced to ride on 340, a divided highway, for about 5 miles. Suddenly 60 miles into the ride, at 8 mph, on the shoulder of a highway undergoing construction so the pavement is torn up, into a strong headwind, driving rain, and on an endless gradual uphill this ride seems like less of a good idea. We manage to make it to Harpers Ferry, but not without having to portage our bikes down a terraced wall into an old lock in the C&O Canal, up the other side, so that we could get to the pedestrian bridge into Harpers Ferry. We took far too much time in Harpers Ferry eating lunch, waiting for the rain to subside, trying to decide what to do, when I realized we had spent nearly two hours there and it was nearly noon and we had about 130 miles still to cover and only a bit over 8 hours of daylight. So, off we went. Initially we were wet and freezing, but the weather cleared pretty soon thereafter leaving us with sunshine and the moderate headwind we would fight all day. We headed through Charles Town and then west over the Shenandoahs. It was quite pleasant riding with some roads a bit more heavily trafficked than I like, but many of the roads beautiful country farm roads through West Virginia and northern Virginia. Only on one short stretch did we end up on a gravel road that dead-ended forcing us to pull out the maps and find an alternative. Soon we were at 100 miles and stopped at Reynolds Store in a town called....drumroll please.....Reynolds Store. Again, pretty remote territory out these ways. We were maintaining a steady, but easy effort, and were managing over 17mph despite the hills and the headwinds. Amy got a flat tire around here somewhere which provided me with some needed respite, and between 100 and 140 miles the hills definitely started kicking up as we entered the Alleghenies. But there were no true beasts of a climb yet, and often we were rewarded with nice, long descents. At 140 miles and about 5pm we rolled into the town of Ft. Ashby, W.Va. Here we topped out bottles off in a 7-11 and unfortunately answered honestly when asked how far we had ridden today. The answer caused quite a ruckus in the store, and was followed up with questions of where we were going, and when we answered Deep Creek Lake, the responses were all along the vein of "Oh man, it's all uphill from here", and "Oh geez, you've got to go over BackBone". I knew that once we got to Westernport, W.Va in about 25 miles that we had a 2000 ft climb awaiting us, but the reaction of these locals who live in the mountains had me a bit scared. Not to mention that I was starting to feel the 140 miles and Amy seemed like she was starting to get eager to get to the lake and had taken up much of the pulling. Oh well, we've got about 3 hours to cover 45ish uphill miles, so better get rolling.

Luckily the 25 mile stretch from Ft. Ashby to Westernport is mostly flat with only one mountain pass before heading down into Keyser, W.Va and then along the Potomac into Westernport. My legs started to cramp on this mountain pass and Amy left me in the dust so I've become quite concerned about the final climb to Deep Creek. It's 6:30pm and we've covered 162 miles in a little over 9 hours and have averaged over 17mph uphill and into a headwind. And, now the hard part starts as we have to climb Backbone, which is part of the Big Savage Mtn ridge, which also happens to be the Eastern Continental Divide. It's a very steady 4-5 mile climb ascending 2000 feet. Think of a steeper version of the first 5 miles of Skyline Drive with 162 miles in your legs. Here is a video of the descent of the climb we made up Backbone. It wasn't pleasant, but I put it in my 39-27, found a ridable tempo and slogged up the thing for the better part of an hour. Once over the top (and gaining great satisfaction from the huge red warning signs for trucks to come to a complete stop before descending the steep hill) I knew we still had 15 more miles of rollers before we were home, and while I was physically and mentally ready to be done I knew 15 miles was still 15 miles and we weren't there yet.

Finally, at about 8:15 we rolled up to the lake house with the sun settling low in the sky. 182 miles, 15300 feet of climbing, 16.4mph, 11:05 of saddle time, 14 hours of door-to-door time, and about 14 seconds to dismount my bike, strip off my clothes, and jump in the lake. It was an incredible day and an incredible ride. For hours afterwards I was riding an exhilarating adrenaline high that I don't recollect experiencing even after completing my Ironmans.

Thank you, Amy, it was an amazing day that I will not soon forget. I'm pretty certain I have crossed that line now with an experience I can't just explain away as normal. Oh well, I can live with that. However, when I move out of town I think I'd just prefer a happy hour with my friends!

-Kyle

ps - Contact me if you are interested in the maps, cue sheets, or elevation profile of the route, and definitely let me know if you ever attempt the ride; it is AWESOME!

2004 Pennsylvania Avenue Mile

2004-09-20T23:46:00.000-04:00

Racer: Kyle Yost & Riley
Race: Pennsylvania Avenue Mile
Date: Saturday, September 25, 2004
Location: Washington, DC
Race Type: One Mile Run
Time: 5:20 +/-
Overall Place: 1st
Age Group Place: 1 / 25 (?)
Comment: "It's a dog-eat-dog world, and I'm wearing Milk-Bone underwear"
--------------
Race Report:
Why is the alarm ringing? It's early and it's Saturday and I'm so warm and comfortable in bed burrowed deep under the covers. I don't want to get up. We used to get up early all the time and go for a morning run on the C&O Towpath, but since that Ironman thing in July it's been nothing but sleeping in and lazy mornings. Which is fine by me as it's hot in the summer and I don't like running in the heat. Plus, my hips have been getting increasingly sore this year, so I've been perfectly content with the new lazy routine. But today's a different story. I'm up and we're off and once I stick my head out the car window to get a good face full of fresh morning air I am ready for the day's adventure.

The environment around the start/finish area of the Pennsylvania Avenue Mile is unique and energizing. There are Olympians straight from Athens and Kenyan speedsters milling about with your normal everyday weekend warriors. And there are large groups of inner-city kids and youth track clubs as this event is put on by StartDC (www.startdc.org) to support child literacy. And, of course, there are the dogs everywhere you look who are there to compete with their owners in the Dog Trot division. This is my fourth consecutive year in this race and I never fail to get super excited once I get to the starting area. But I've learned through experience to save all the socializing and partying until after the race. There are lots of fast, attractive, and athletic racers here and it's easy to get distracted beforehand. Three years ago in my first endeavor at this event I got so caught up in the fun of the pre-race environment and socializing with all the young, hot tail running around that I failed to take care of the necessary pre-race business. Sure enough, once the race started I really had to poop and I nearly made it through the race, but about 100 yards from the finish line I could hold it no more so I had to stop and squat in the middle of the road, right in front of all the laughing and cheering spectators and in front of all the Kenyans who were warming up for the elite heat. Even the man on the PA system made fun of me. But, not this year. Now I've got the pre-race ritual down. Stay clear of all the excitement, get in a short warmup and a pre-race poop, drink some water, and save all the socializing for the post-race party.

There are many waves for the Pennsylvania Avenue Mile and mine was fourth. The start of this race is always chaotic as there are lots of bodies and not that much road space. My strategy was to get out real quick and get away from the bumping bodies and any nipping of the heels and then settle down. Of course, I haven't really done much running at all this summer and my hips have been acting up, so today was going to be all about having fun and not racing for the win. The past two years I have raced this event hard and gotten 2nd each year with sub 5 minute miles each time. But this year is just for fun. The race starts and is crazy chaos as always. But it soon settles down and I am in third place not too far behind the two leaders just taking it at a nice easy pace. We hit the 1/4 mile in 83 seconds. Pretty pokey and I'm just chomping at the bit to go hard, but the plan today is take it easy and enjoy the event. We hit the 1/2 mile turnaround in front of the Capitol building still in third place and still just behind the leaders in a pedestrian 2:50. I'm still itching to put the hammer down, but that's not the plan. Oh, what's happening? The leader has a problem, he's stopping to poop! Here's my chance, forget this take-it-easy strategy, let's hit the gas and see what happens. So, I do and I scream past the two leaders and into the lead. I'm just flying down the road now pulling away with every stride! The finish line is in sight and I've blown this one wide open. The crowds are cheering wildly for me and I hear girls screaming "Oh my God, he is sooo cute!!" Meet me at the finish line girls and I'll bathe you in kisses! I cross the line the victor in about 5:20, which means I did the second half of the race far faster than the first. But, who cares, after two years of placing runner-up, I'm now the winner and it's time to reap the awards! They shuttle me through the finish chute where I'm met at the end by a reporter from the Washington Post.

"What's your name?"

"I'm RileyDawg, and I'm a three year old Vizsla. I want to thank my owner, Kyle, for believing in me and bringing me back to race again this year. I also want to give a shout-out to my sister Maggie who is here running today; I think she got 6th place."

"Who slows who down out there, you or Kyle?"

"Well, take a look at Kyle hanging onto to his knees for dear life, and then look at me ready to go do it again with the Kenyan wave this time and answer that one for yourself, Einstein."

"OK, then. So, will you be back next year to defend your title?"

"You bet. I'll be back with a new titanium hip and we'll be gunning for the course record!"

"Congratulations! It looks like you have a group of adoring girls just dying to pet you so I'll let you go. Don't forget to pick up your $50 PetSmart gift certificate, though"

"Thank you, but first I'm going to go find myself some hot young bitches to hump. To the victor go the spoils!"

2004 Ironman Lake Placid Race Report

2004-07-24T22:02:00.000-04:00

2004 Ironman Lake Placid Report – Kyle Yost

Event Time Rank (of 1961); (of 329)
Swim: 1:04:22 400; 70
T1: 6:10 320; 66
Start Bike: 1:10:32 330; 66
Bike: 5:21:38 47; 9
T2: 2:27 110; 20
Start Run: 6:34:37 69; 12
Run: 4:40:10 920; 183
Overall: 11:14:46 360; 80

Warmup:
The 2004 Ironman Lake Placid was the race around which all my training and racing revolved this year. For me this event was not particularly important as an opportunity to qualify for Hawaii, this race was my Hawaii. For a good eight months all of my training and an unhealthy portion of my social time were spent focused on this race. In addition to the high opportunity cost such a commitment brings, it also came at a large monetary expense. I spent a week in March training in the Pyrenees in northern Spain, organized ‘training camps’ in Lake Placid in May and in the Allegheny Mountains around Deep Creek Lake in western Md in June. I received regular massages to hopefully alleviate excessively tight muscles and the chronic cramping I’ve experienced in the past on the run as a result. I designed an Ironman nutrition strategy around the products from E-Caps/HammerNutrition, a company that provides powdered drinks and supplements designed for endurance athletes, after I experienced severe cramping and stomach distress in the 2002 Great Floridian, my only other attempt at the ironman distance.

This all-your-eggs-in-one-basket approach to the season is risky, but it paid off. On race morning I was healthy, I was arguably the fittest I have ever been in my life, my training and spring race results showed steady improvement and indicated I was ready to do something special, I was properly peaked and tapered for the day, and the weather was absolutely ideal for a day of racing. As I bobbed in Mirror Lake at 6:59am with 2000 other nervous athletes I felt strangely calm and excited about what was to come. I knew I was absolutely prepared for this race and that I was about to have a breakout performance and now all I needed to do was go out and actually do it.

Pre-Race:
I arrived in Lake Placid on a hot Thursday afternoon and hoped the heat would leave by Sunday. Over the next few days I got in a few swims in the lake, a couple of short bikes to sharpen the legs and ensure the bike was in proper working order, and some short runs to break a sweat. I stayed in a condo just outside of town with a mix of racing and spectating TeamBonzai folks and pretty much killed time until Sunday by watching the Tour de France and trying to stay away from the nervous energy around town.

Sunday morning I woke up at 4:30 and consumed my 400 calorie breakfast drink and watched in amazement as Bill Davis put a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and some protein powder in a blender and chugged the entire 2500 calorie concoction in about 10 seconds. Impressive as it was to watch, I find it hard to believe that 2500 fat calories is a wise pre-race meal, but Bill is experienced and he nearly ran me down at the end of the race so I won’t second guess him.

I gathered my gear and took one final look at my goal sheet I wrote up this winter and headed up to the start:

Ironman Lake Placid Goals (in ascending order of priority)
1. Finish
2. Run the marathon (avoid cramping, stomach issues)
3. 11:00
4. Hawaii
5. 10:00

On race morning, I knew finishing was likely barring catastrophe like a bike crash or major injury on the run. Goal #2, actually being able to run the marathon, was the key to the race. If I could actually run I wasn’t going to go much slower than 8 minute miles even in my death-shuffle. But if I was stuck in the porta-potties or constantly stopped stretching out cramps there was potential my marathon time could rival my bike time. This was what was to be avoided at all costs. If I met goal #2, there was an extremely high likelihood goal #3 would be met, and I figured a 10:15 would qualify for Hawaii (10:13 was necessary) and that a 3:30 marathon would accomplish that (turns out a 3:40 marathon would have done it). Goal #5, the 10:00 Ironman, was a bit of a stretch, but I could do the math that would make it happen and it would require solid bikes and runs. Stranger things have happened…..

Swim:
Historically, the swim has been my weak leg of the triathlon and there was no indication from my recent training to expect that to change this race. I’d been disappointed throughout the spring in my swim results and the direction my swim was heading in practice. After Memorial Day I had substantially increased my yardage by going to John Flanagan’s practices at Hains Point, my first foray into ‘real’ swim workouts for swimmers. Unfortunately, this approach seems to have failed me as my swim only seems to be getting slower, both in races and in practice. Clearly, it’s time to take a step back and evaluate what bad habits have crept into my stroke. But, on race morning I wasn’t terribly concerned. I wanted to have a good swim for the sake of having a good swim, but I knew it didn’t really matter whether I went 59 minutes or 65 minutes. I had learned in the Columbia Triathlon that overexerting during the swim can adversely affect the rest of your day, so the primary goal of the swim was to find a good, comfortable rhythm and to swim hard but not all out.

I lined up towards the left about 8-10 rows back with the strategy of getting past the dock, heading left and swimming to the inside of the buoys. I prefer to breathe to my right so this would allow me to sight off the masses of people fighting over the cable line that marked the course and held the buoys. The canon fired and chaos ensued. The start was not at all pleasant but was no worse than I had expected. I took a few shots and dished out a few of my own before I found some real estate off to the left as I had planned. It was crowded but I had few problems swimming inside the buoys until the first turnaround where everyone converges on the green buoy. At this point I was forced to head straight into the fray to get around the buoy and I took a solid kick square to the face, which luckily didn’t knock my goggles off but pretty much embedded them into head. I can definitely see how noses get broken during Ironman swims. Not wanting to cheat other competitors from getting full value out of their Ironman dollar, I passed the experience down the line and felt my heel connect with someone’s chin or forehead. You’re it, pass it on. The second leg was uneventful and easy swimming and soon enough I exited the water in about 30:30. I had hoped to be less than 30 minutes, but with the chaos of the start and the turnaround I wasn’t too surprised to be about a minute slower than expected. I ran the short stint on the beach, got back in the water and was probably around the dock back at the actual swim start by 31:30. I understood I wouldn’t be going under an hour, but 62 minutes was reasonable as I expected smoother sailing the second loop. The third leg was very pleasant and I followed the underwater cable marking the course. At times I think I allowed myself to get held up swimming behind folks going a little too slow but I was swimming comfortably and didn’t want to expend the energy to make the pass. The turnaround came much sooner than I expected and I actually swam right into the green turn buoy. Once again the turn was quite crowded and I kind of ducked down and went underwater and swam under the buoy more than actually went around it. I’m not quite sure what happened on the final leg, but I started to cramp, which is a little perplexing as I hardly use my legs at all when swimming with a wetsuit. First I had some inner quad cramping which wasn’t so much a problem as just annoying and reason for concern. Then, with maybe 400 meters to go I got a terrible and debilitating calf cramp in my right leg. This was a super-intense knot that pretty much stopped me in my tracks and caused me to look around for the nearest kayaker as I thought I might just sink right then and there. Now I’m being swum over by the masses and just trying to doggie paddle in to shore. Unfortunately, I have extensive experience with cramping, but this one was painful like no cramp I’d ever experienced and it wasn’t going to loosen up until I got on land. So, I limped on in swimming more vertically through the winter than horizontally, and finally exited with a huge mass of people in 64:22. Even considering the 90 seconds to two minutes I estimate I lost in the last 400 meters due to the cramp I was not pleased with this swim time, but I realized that in the scheme of the entire day the extra couple of minutes meant little and that I was in fine position moving on to my strengths of biking and running.

Swim time: 64:22, 400th overall, 70th age group.

T1:
Once on land I took a few gimpy steps and my calf very reluctantly began to release. I plopped down to have my wetsuit stripped and headed for the quarter mile jog to the transition area. Another downside to being a slow swimmer and exiting the water in the densest period is that the massive flow of people on the narrow pathway to the transition area hinders those of us who would like to make speedy work of the swim-bike transition and start recouping lost time. So, not only do us slow swimmers lose hard-earned minutes in the water to the fast swimmers, but we lose a few easy-earned minutes stuck in the logjam to transition. But, again, I understood the day was long and that a few seconds here and there meant nothing and that I had a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon run coming to resettle the score with the fishes.

Once in transition I grabbed my bag and emptied it on the floor in the changing tent. I sucked down about half of a water bottle of a 400 calorie drink and threw on my jersey which I had elected to not wear under my wetsuit so I wouldn’t be both cold and wet at the start of the long ride. I chose not to wear the armwarmers I had put in my bag, threw on my helmet, glasses, socks, and shoes, grabbed my bike from a volunteer and off I went for a scenic 112 miler in the hills.

T1 time: 6:10, 320th overall, 66th age group.
Start Bike time: 1:10:32, 330th overall, 66th age group

Bike:
It was quite a relief to be on the bike as I’d been looking forward to this ride for a long time. My biking has improved greatly over the past few years to the point where my bike leg is as equally potent a weapon as my run, and I’ve been a competitive runner since I was but a wee lad. Perhaps this is an indication I chose the wrong sport as a child. I had familiarized myself with the bike course with a heavy training weekend over Memorial Day and I absolutely loved the course. The course is challenging and hilly which usually is enough to scare a big guy like me away, but there aren’t really any hard, steep hills on this course, and the hills are well placed to break up long, flat, fast stretches of aerobar riding. My training had me perfectly prepared with a great base and lots of miles in the mountains, both on Skyline Drive and in the Alleghenies in western Md and southern Pa., not to mention the Pyrenees in Spain. And my spring race results showed excellent performances and steady improvements from a PR bike split at Columbia to a 24mph ride at the Eagleman Half to a top-10 overall split at Diamond in the Rough in my final tuneup two weeks before Lake Placid. So, suffice it to say, I started the Lake Placid ride confident that I was capable of uncorking a great ride, but focused on finding that small sweet spot of riding strong but not frying the legs. I went in to the ride with the expectation of a 5:25 to 5:30 bike split, but given the perfect weather and the fresh recollection of a pre-race conversation with training partner Tom Shinners who said I should expect a 5:15 split, I allowed myself to decrease my under-no-circumstances-no-faster-than time to 5:20.

The road was quite crowded with cyclists leaving town, which is to be expected as over 250 athletes exited the swim in the two minutes before and two minutes after me. Luckily the first eight or so miles are rolling hills with some decent climbs so the crowds didn’t present a terrible drafting problem. Nearly immediately Ted Waugh passed me on one of the initial climbs out of town. This confirmed that my swim was not exceptional and that Ted had a solid swim as we normally have very similar bike and run splits but I tend to gain some time on him in the water. This time my gain was a whopping six seconds. We chatted a bit and would pass each other back and forth many times over the next 30 or so miles. My legs felt great, although the climbs leading up to the long descent into Keane were tougher than I remembered. The six mile long screaming descent into Keane was fun and cold as expected. My numb hands then caused me to fail three times to successfully grab a water bottle at the next aid station, but that’s the only aid station all day in which I failed to get my planned water, so I stuck well to my nutrition plan, but more on that later. The ten mile stretch from Keane to Jay was fast and crowded, and there was a large drafting pack I could not extract myself from. The whole pack must have been a good 100 meters long and I made a few attempts to get clear by going off the front, but it was too fast and by the time I got off the front I knew I was going too hard so I backed off. Then everyone would pass me by and I would try to drop off the back but this was too slow. At one point I was riding alongside Daniel Labarca and I commented to him that “it looks like a team time trial out here” and he just looked at me funny. I guess he doesn’t know who I am. Ted and I expressed our frustration to each other a few times and then Ted got fed up and shot off the front. It was the last I saw him, but I must have passed him back at some point as he would later pass me on the run. I waited patiently for the climb out of Jay which did have the effect of breaking up the group. I encountered Julie Oplinger right before the turn in Jay; what an amazing race she was having. To think I had been talking smack this winter that I was going to beat her in the water. She swims 55 even and I’m nearly ten minutes behind her. That should teach me to shut up. The rest of the first loop was great. The climb out of Jay was easier than I remembered it, the out-and-back from Wilmington shorter and faster, and the long climb back to Lake Placid enjoyable and scenic. I passed Kirsten Ward at the start of the climb out of Wilmington and absolutely could not believe it. She had an incredible breakthrough swim in her first race as a pro. We’ve been swimming together at Hains Point and I am just slightly faster than her in the pool, but she walloped me with a 60 minute swim on raceday. Amazing! And then right at the top of Papa Bear I passed Mike Guzek hauling his 225 pounds over the summit. That man sure can climb for a big horse, but I still gave him a nice push on the rear to help him over the top (outside assistance?) and we chatted for a bit as we rolled down Northwinds Rd before he sent me on my way. I finished the first loop in 2:35 feeling great, enjoying the screams from the huge crowds, and actually looking forward to doing it all again.

I knew the second loop would be slower, but I was still a bit concerned that 2:35 might have been a little too fast even though everything felt great. So, I consciously backed off on the hills out of town, but even so they were noticeably more difficult the second time around. The first time I actually wasn’t enjoying myself on the ride was the final five or so miles of flat road into Jay. My legs continued to feel very good, but I started having some difficulties getting comfortable on the seat. This is why I’m glad the course has hills and areas where you can come out of the aerobars. I don’t think I’d fare well on a 112 mile flat and straight course like IM Florida. Here I encountered Dave Cascio and we exchanged greetings and would spend the rest of the ride passing each other back and forth. The climb out of Jay was a welcome change as it allowed me to change positions and get out of the aerobars for a bit. The final out-and-back from Wilmington was another flat and fast stretch and you got to see the other competitors coming the other way which helped take the mind off the fact that you’re 90+ miles in and still have a 10 mile climb ahead of you. At this point I caught Heather Fuhr which caused me to think she was having a bad day; it never had occurred to me my riding has gotten so strong that I would actually gain on the top women in the sport. Heather, Dave Cascio, and I rode most of the way up to Lake Placid together which was the first time of the day that the legs started to feel at all fatigued. I rolled through town once again basking in the cheers of the huge crowd and started to mentally prepare myself for the long run. I did the second loop in 2:46 which gave me a 5:21:38 bike split. The bike seemed relatively crowded the entire day and it seemed like I was being passed frequently, so never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that this was the 47th fastest bike of the day and had moved me from 330th to 69th overall.

Bike time: 5:21:38, 47th overall, 9th age group.

T2:
The bike-to-run transition was pretty straightforward. I handed my bike off to a volunteer, grabbed my transition bag, and headed into the changing tent. This time the tent was nice and empty so I took a seat, emptied my bag, threw on my shoes, FuelBelt and hat, chugged about half a bottle of a 400 calorie drink mix, and took off on the run.

T2 time: 2:27, 110th overall, 20th age group.
Start Run: 6:34:37, 69th overall, 12th age group

Run:
The start of the run was kind of exciting because I exited transition right behind four-time champion Heather Fuhr and Andrea Fisher. Camera guys were running alongside each of them sticking the camera just inches from their face. How annoying. Andrea was going kind of slow so I pulled up right next to her and the camera guy looked at me with a look that said “Get the hell out of my way – you’re ruining my shot”, and I shot back a look that said “No, you get the hell out of my way because I paid $400 for this and I’ll run you over and step on your camera!”

The first mile was fine, which it had better be considering it was mostly downhill and it was just the first mile. The quads didn’t enjoy the downhill pounding, but all systems were go at the mile mark and I checked my watch and saw 7:00 even. Downhill or not, this was faster than I wanted so I slowed the pace to 7:20ish for the next few miles. The legs certainly felt the effect of a long, hard ride and I had the feeling that I might regret riding just a little too hard the last ten or so miles of the run. But, the legs didn’t feel like they were going to cramp and that was my biggest concern. Somewhere around the 3 or 4 mile mark it occurred to me that I was going to have a great day and something very near the ten hour mark was a real possibility. All I needed to do was cruise in the eight minute mile ballpark and I can do that even with tired legs. But, I can’t do that when I’m stopped at the side of the road stretching out cramps and that was my biggest fear and it was looking like I was going to be okay in that regards this time.

But all was not well. Around the mile four aid station I could tell my stomach wasn’t quite right and I thought it might be best to hit the porta-pottie. I took off running again and my stomach was definitely getting worse not better. Around mile 5 I saw Vaughn Cooper and David Glover coming the other way, no way I should be so close to these guys. Turns out each of them had subpar rides but came back with a fury on the run. Shortly before the turnaround I see Brady DeHoust coming back at me which means he must have passed me while I was in the port-a-pottie. He was having a fantastic day and would post a solid run and a 10:18 overall. At the turnaround my prospects are definitely taking a turn for the worse. My stomach is clearly not emptying as I can feel the fluids sloshing around, and to help me take my mind off this I get a tough hamstring cramp. I can tell I am already dehydrated as I’ve got goosebumps over my whole body and I haven’t needed to urinate the entire race. Combine this with a stomach that isn’t processing the fluids I’m putting in it and you’ve got a recipe for a tough day. But, I press on at a very deliberate pace just trying to settle in to a rhythm where I’m making decent forward progress and not having to stop to stretch out cramps or take port-a-pottie breaks. I’m now walking the aid stations and trying to get in water, coke, and pretzels. I’m measuring my progress one aid station at a time and setting a decent pace when running between stations. Problem is I’m either stopping to use the port-a-pottie or to throw up at each aid station and I’m losing the urgency to jump right out and immediately resume running after each of these incidents. I get back to town after 11 miles still doing reasonably well but terribly frustrated at how the day is unraveling before me. Shortly before the 12 mile turnaround my day goes from bad to disastrous as I encounter serious problems. I feel my stomach sloshing around and realize I am shortly going to throw up. I pull over into someone’s lawn where the family is calmly watching the race in their lawn chairs and I unload. My previous vomiting had been more or less just coughing back up what I had just consumed at an aid station. This one was an unleashing of huge volumes of liquid, again and again and again. I hear some guy say, “Man, that sucks”, and remember thinking what an understatement that was. As I stood back up I got really dizzy and just kind of fell over sideways. At this point the family is coming to my aid (outside assistance?) with some bottled water and I hear a volunteer directing traffic behind me radio that an athlete needs medical assistance. This, I know, is not good, and for the first time it occurs to me that it is entirely possible I may not finish the race. I still have eight and a half hours to cover the final 14 miles and I could crawl it in that time, but not if medical yanks me from the race. So, I sit on the curb for a few minutes regaining my bearings and just walk away before medical arrives on the scene.

I actually felt much better after this incident but based on the volume of liquid I expelled I knew that I was severely dehydrated and hadn’t been absorbing any fluids for quite some time, likely the entire run. Well, nothing to do except take it one mile at a time and try to drink at every aid station and hope I can absorb at least some of it. I hit halfway at 2:02 and realize if I can do the last 13.1 in 2:23 I can still break 11 hours. That’s 140 minutes to cover 13 miles, and as long as I can maintain a trot between aid stations I can surely pull that off. Truth is, I don’t remember all that much about miles 13 to 21 except that I found a groove, albeit a pathetic groove, and just took it one mile at a time. I would run about a half mile, allow myself 50 meters or so to walk, then run to the next aid station where I would gulp down some water and eat a handful of pretzels as I walked the length of the station. Frequently what I just consumed would soon come right back up but I bet that enough stayed down to allow me to continue to make forward progress. I had to stop once or twice at the porta-potties, but all in all, voiding my stomach entirely at the 12 mile mark marked the worst of my GI issues for the day. At some point during this 8 mile stretch Tom Shinners and Ted Waugh passed me by, both going on to post fine performances with Tom qualifying for Hawaii for the umpteenth time and Ted narrowly missing a slot.

I remember hitting 21.1 miles at 10 hours even, so I had a full hour to cover the last five miles and still get in under 11. But, the wheels had been wobbling badly for the previous 16 miles and now they fell off completely. I had somehow managed to walk/jog 10 minute miles for the previous 8 miles in survival mode, but that was all she wrote. I was severely bonked and dehydrated and I couldn’t resume running after the 21 mile aid station. I must have started to look quite bad as volunteers told me to take my time and many athletes passing me slowed to make sure I was OK. Somewhere in the 22 – 23 mile range Kirsten Ward passed me by, and while stomach issues hindered her day as well she was toughing it out and finishing quite strong and would still manage to post a 10:50 despite all her difficulties. Amazing! She encouraged me to try and start running with her, but she was really flying and I was just trying to walk straight. We were following two very different trajectories at that point. It’s a real shame as we did quite a bit of training together for this race and I would have loved to have been able to run in with her on this day. At one point maybe a mile outside of town I decided I needed to stop and sit at the side of the road the thought crossed my mind that I could take a five or six hour nap and then finish when I was recovered and the idea of doing so seemed quite appealing. After a few minutes of slumping in the grass another competitor stopped and shook me out of my stupor and convinced me to get moving again. I walked the mile or so into town and up the final hill. At the 25 mile turnaround I forced myself into a jog for the final mile and was quite angry to discover that once the stiffness in my legs eased I felt reasonably good. I guess the hour-long walk and rest at the side of the road had settled my stomach and rested my legs. I saw Mike Guzek on the out-and-back, and the fact that he had not caught me meant that he was struggling mightily on the run as well which is a real shame as he had prepared fantastically for this race and was set for a real breakthrough. But, like the trooper he is he toughed it out to the finish line and you’ll never hear a word of complaint from him. The last mile passed quickly and suddenly I was on the speed-skating oval and across the finish line.

Run time: 4:40:10, 920th overall, 183th age group.
Overall time: 11:14:46, 360th overall, 80th age group

Post-Race:
I was immediately scurried away from the finish area and into the medical tent. At the pre-race registration I was weighed in at 190 wearing minimal clothing and no shoes. On the same scale after the race I weighed 176 including my running shoes and my FuelBelt which contained two full flasks, so I lost a good 15 pounds during the day, presumably most or all of that during the run. This was a bit alarming to the medical personnel so they plopped me on a cot and took my vitals. My temperature was normal, my blood pressure only slightly low (100/50), and I was pretty lucid so they pumped me full of fluids and let me go in less than an hour. Once rehydrated and rested I felt quite good considering the ordeal I had just put myself through. The legs felt a little worse for wear, but all in all they didn’t feel like they’d just put in a 140.6 mile day. I sent my parents on their way and stuck around cheering on friends and strangers to the finish. It was fun as darkness approached encouraging folks to race it in before night fell. The energy at an IM finish is intoxicating and it was amazing to see the smiles on the athletes nearing the finish and the spectators and volunteers still cheering loudly after such a loud day.

Warm-Down:
So, what happened? I wish there were an easy and obvious answer. I used the same nutrition plan in the race that I’ve used successfully all season in training. My caloric drink of choice is a 50/50 mixture of E-caps products Sustained Energy and Perpetuem, augmented with Endurolytes powder for electrolytes. In training I’ve used this solution on all rides aiming for roughly 350-400 calories an hour and about 30-40 ounces of water an hour depending on the heat and humidity. On runs I aim for roughly the same intake but generally actually consume somewhat fewer calories. I have had absolutely no incidents of stomach distress or low energy problems throughout all of my training using these products, so what is different about race day? First of all, there is the hour-long swim which is not an element of the long brick workout days. I’d be surprised if the swim is the cause of my stomach ills on the run, but I’ll consider all possibilities. Secondly, the intensity level of the bike was slightly greater than the typical training ride, although it was far less than a race like Eagleman and I had no stomach issues there using the same nutrition strategy. At Lake Placid I consumed four water bottles of 600 calories each and hydrated with about ¾ of a water bottle of water roughly every ten miles. This is 2400 calories plus a shot or two of Hammergel plus a large swig of my solution in each transition, so call it 3000 calories over 5.5 hours, which translates to 550 calories per hour. I had absolutely no stomach or energy problems on the bike, but as I was aiming for 400-450 calories per hour, perhaps I consumed too many calories on the bike and this caused my stomach to shut down just in time for the run. More telling is the fact that I never had the urge to urinate the entire day which is a strong indication I did not drink enough water. I find this very hard to believe as I would grab a water bottle of water at each aid station about every ten miles and try to kill it and then throw it aside. This is probably more water than I would get on a normal training ride yet I often have the urge to urinate during training but never did during this race. Finally, I didn’t really seem to suffer any issues on the run, or at least any issues that would have raised alarm bells in training, until mile 5 or so of the run. In training I rode 100 miles or longer countless times and likewise I ran 10 miles or longer countless times, but never did I do both of those in one training session so perhaps I always have this issue but my post-bike runs were always too short. The workout that most closely mimicked the race I did three weeks before with Kirsten Ward, and it was a 108 mile hilly ride at 20mph followed by an 8 mile run at 7:15 pace. I followed my exact race-day nutrition strategy that day and had no stomach issues whatsoever. At this point, my best guess is that I consumed a bit too many calories and bit too little water on the bike, and perhaps rode at a slightly too high intensity level on the bike, and this combination of factors caused my stomach to shut down somewhere late in the ride or early in the run.

An obvious option that I must consider given the results is that I rode too hard on the bike. I am not terribly surprised with the 5:21 split, but I am terribly surprised that that is good enough for 47th fastest of the day. I highly doubt that I am the 47th best rider out on the course. Other statistics back up the theory that I rode too hard, such as the fact that I beat David Glover and Vaughn Cooper on the bike and that aside from Kate Major’s insane 5:06 ride I broke the previous women’s bike course record. I’m strong on the bike, but not that strong so maybe I overexerted. In some respects I was relieved to hear that David’s relatively slow bike split was due to his own stomach issues and that Vaughn’s split due to inconsistent training due to a bike crash. Other splits indicate that maybe I didn’t overexert on the bike. Traditionally I have similar bike splits to both Brady DeHoust and Ted Waugh and on this day I beat each of them by roughly three minutes which is very little. And, usually, I can run with or near those guys but this day they ran fine and I could not. So, perhaps I rode too hard or perhaps I didn’t. It’s hard to say. I felt awfully comfortable on the bike. And, if the only way I can run a marathon after a 112 mile ride is to do a six hour ride, well, I’m not interested.

It is now eight days after the race and I am recovered, both physically and mentally. My legs were sore the day after the race and then quickly recovered with the exception of my right calf which cramped in the swim. Amazingly, that still hurts like someone took to it with a sledgehammer although it is getting better by the day. Mentally I have struggled over the past week. I felt an initial euphoria from having finished considering the substantial obstacles I overcame to make it to the finish line. But, as time passed that euphoria subsided and has been replaced by general sadness that all the stars had aligned for me and I wasn’t able to take advantage of the opportunity. Never again will I be this prepared for a race. It just isn’t practical and the sacrifices to personal and career lives are too much to go through another eight month stint preparing for a single race. The weather was better than ideal, it was absolutely perfect. The course was perfect for me, hell, even the swim had a lane line! And I blew it. This acknowledgement has been tough for me to accept, but it is reality and I’ve come to terms with it. Triathlon, and this one race in particular, have been very important to me, but in the grand scheme of things it is nothing more than a hobby and a trivially unimportant one at that. I enjoy triathlon, and I enjoy the training and having gotten myself back into shape, and I love the friends I have made through this sport. But, I don’t like the lack of balance that has evolved in my life and I don’t like the all-your-eggs-in-one-basket approach that Ironman necessitates. I’m not quitting the sport and I’m not claiming I will never take another shot at an Ironman, because I’m a stubborn fool and I probably will.

Congratulations to all my friends and training partners who completed the day. A few, like Julie, had the race of their lives, most had solid performances, and a couple, like me, struggled to make it in. But, everyone finished and sometimes I lose perspective of just how impressive that alone is. Congratulations!!

2002 Great Floridian Ironman Race Report

2002-10-20T21:59:00.000-04:00

Great Floridian Ironman Race Report

Prologue:
2002 has been my fourth season competing in triathlons and through this sport I have met many people and made many friends and training partners who are into “The Ironman Thing”. Never one to withhold my feelings, I have called them ‘crazies’ and ‘nuts’ and said things like “those races ought to have their finish lines at the front gate of an insane asylum.” I have always said such things partly in seriousness and mostly in admiration, and I hope that’s how they’ve been construed. The responses to such comments have always been a grin and “Your day will come.” I knew they were right, that before I moved on to saner hobbies I would have to accomplish the pinnacle of this sport, and this summer it occurred to me that if the time was ever right for me to race an Ironman it was this fall. So, despite having never completed a triathlon longer than the standard Olympic distance, in late August I signed up for the Great Floridian Ironman. And immediately starting wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.

My preparations went phenomenally and there is really nothing I would do differently in my training in hindsight. I got in two 120 mile training rides and probably 8 other centuries, the vast majority of which included a run following the ride. I got in a half dozen 18 mile runs, a few 20 milers, and one 24 miler. I did multiple track workouts of 6x1600 on 5:20-5:25 with short recovery. I was swimming better than I ever had. My heaviest training weeks four to six weeks out included 250-300 miles biking, 50-60 miles running, and 10K meters swimming. I was healthy, fit, and raring to go!

PreRace:
I arrived in Clermont, FL very late Wednesday evening and drove to the house I had rented for the week. Thursday and Friday were surprisingly busy with things like registration, driving the bike course, assembling my bike, trips to the airport to pick up my father and my girlfriend Nicole, packing transition and special needs bags, and so on. I expected a relaxed and quiet two days but instead found myself racing to get everything done that I needed to do. But, on Friday night I was finally ready. The bike was checked in and I had decided to stick with the disc wheel despite the relatively strong winds we’d seen on both Thursday and Friday. My five (!) race bags were packed, double-checked, and ready to go – Pre-Race Bag, Bike Gear Bag, Run Gear Bag, Bike Special Needs Bag, Run Special Needs Bag – when did it become such a logistical challenge to prepare for a race? I miss running races! The wetsuit was ready to go just in case they were allowed on race morning; on Friday the lake was still one degree too warm for wetsuits to be permitted.

Saturday morning I arrive at the race site a little later than I would have liked. The place is nothing but nervous energy so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t have extra time on my hands. The big news of the morning is that the lake has dropped another degree overnight and wetsuits are legal. I’m not terribly concerned by this as the rules are the same for everybody, but the use of a wetsuit will make my swim a few minutes faster and save my legs a little so I’m certainly not going to pass on the opportunity to wear it. Five minutes before the 7:30 start and I’ve got to abandon the bathroom line. I guess I’ll just help warm the water a little like most of the other nervous and overly hydrated people wading and waiting for the start are surely doing. And as for the other, well it will have to wait until evening I guess.

It’s Go time!!

Swim:
The swim is two laps around a 1.2 mile rectangular loop in a large lake. The water is warm (hee hee) and smooth – not much else you could ask for. I’d never been in a race with one mass start before so I was a little worried about what would happen with 800 people all starting at once and heading for the same point. It really wasn’t bad at all, though. People spread themselves out nicely at the start and it wasn’t until probably 200 meters into the swim when people started congregating along the shortest direct line to swim that I encountered any flailing arms or legs. I took a couple of kicks and got slugged a few times, but I’m pretty sure I dished out at least as much as I received. The swim was a piece of cake. I felt fresh as could be and worried that maybe I was going too slowly, but I felt like I was cruising and I had promised myself that I would stay relaxed and easy the entire swim. My hand rubbed across the sand on the bottom as we finished the first lap and I stood up and started running towards shore where we would exit the water, run over a timing mat, get something to drink, and head back for lap two.

24 minutes – uh oh. Either I’ve become an Olympic class swimmer overnight or the swim is terribly short. Oh well, it is what it is, so back in the water I go for lap 2. The second lap is equally fantastic. The racers have strung out so there’s a lot less contact, but I find a nice pair of toes to draft off of, and the swim is over way too soon. I feel great and don’t really want to start the long day on the bike, but sure enough lap 2 ends quickly and I’m out of the water in 49:45. I had expected to swim around 65 minutes and had hopes of being down around 62 minutes, but as the swim was so ridiculously short I couldn’t really tell if I had done well or not. As I ran to transition I asked a few people what they had expected to swim and I got responses that ranged from 57 to 60 minutes, so it looks like I had the swim of my life despite the short course. I would like now to place a formal request to shed my nickname of “Kyle The Human Anchor”. Thank you.

The final results show that my swim was the 70th best of the day and the accepted conclusion is that the length was 2.0 – 2.1 miles.

Bike:
The swim-to-bike transition was uneventful. One nice feature was the wetsuit-peelers they had waiting for you. No struggling to get your own wetsuit off; just plop on your back, lift your legs, and voila someone’s yanked it off for you. Very cool. I grabbed my bike bag, ran into the changing tent, put on my gear and headed off to my bike. Only one thing missing. Where are the sunscreen appliers? I had been told that there would be people in the changing tent who would apply sunscreen to you so I had not put any in my gear bag. But, I had been misinformed, so off I went for 9 – 11 hours in the Florida sun sans sunscreen.

It may be Florida, but the bike course is mean, and by mean I mean hilly, hot, and windy. Right out of transition you climb a short but steep hill, so you need to be sure you are in your smallest gear and your feet are clipped in. No getting into your bike shoes on the fly on this course. The first twenty miles is full of rolling hills with some very steep (8-10 degrees) ones tossed in there. Toss in some hard turns on the descents and some very rough road with sandy spots and you’ve got the recipe for an unpleasant first hour on the bike. I didn’t mind the first hour, though. It was roughly nine in the morning and the weather was beautiful, the swim had been phenomenal, and I felt full of energy. I was deliberately going very easy at this point on the bike, but still was having difficulty getting my heartrate down to the high 140s where I wanted it. Most likely this was a result of the constant rolling hills. I was getting passed left and right but knew I would be seeing most of these people again before the bike was over.

The miles 20-35 are mostly flat and this is actually where I struggled most on the bike the entire day. I wasn’t comfortable in the saddle and the thought of another 90 miles on the bike seemed inconceivable. I was being passed regularly, I had to pee again, and as for the other, well I wasn’t so sure I’d be waiting until evening for that.

From miles 35-55 you hit the hills again as you return to the lake for the special needs pickup at halfway. The first hill you hit is the toughest hill on the course, Sugarloaf Mountain. It is an awesome hill! I loved it. It’s a half mile and very steep. For anyone who has run or biked up Tilden Rd to Connecticut Ave from the Pierce Mill in Rock Creek, it is essentially this hill. Steep! You get in your smallest gear, get out of the saddle, and just keep trying to keep turning the pedals over. I was just starting to feel good again when we hit the hill, and while no one cruises up that hill I passed a lot of suffering people there. My father and Nicole were waiting for me near the top and I’m betting I was the only person smiling the whole way up that thing. The next twenty miles were the best of the day. I felt fantastic and the rolling hills were great to break up the monotony of riding in the aerobars. At the top of Sugarloaf someone said I was in 77th place. When I rode into the special needs area at the 55 mile mark I heard 39th place. A lot of the people who passed me in bunches early on were suffering during that stretch but I was feeling great. I hit the special needs at mile 55 in just under 2:40, or a little over 20 mph, just what I had expected.

The second loop of the bike course is not nearly as hilly as the first, although it is far from pancake flat. However, it is very open and the winds definitely pick up as the day goes on. For the next 40 or so miles I continued to feel great and ride well. My pace was faster than I expected but my heartrate continued to be at or below what I wanted so I did not try to slow down. I got blown around by a few gusts of wind but all in all the wind wasn’t as bad as I feared and riding the disc wheel was a good choice. This stretch was boring. The race had strung out by now and I was riding completely solo, not another rider in sight for miles at a time. Every now and then I would pass someone who had clearly gone out too hard and was paying the price, but for the most part it was a solo, boring riding. Around mile 90 I was starting to be ready to be off the bike. Every five minutes or so I would get out of the aerobars and out of the saddle and push like I was climbing a hill just to change positions and use some different muscles. My dad and Nicole picked a completely random spot of country road to wait for me and what do you know, it was mile 100.0. 4:53 on the bike and I sure was glad to see them. The last twelve miles were more of the same. My legs were getting tired but were still feeling strong. My back was also a bit sore. But my heartrate was good and low which bode well for the marathon. I hit mile 112 in 5:28 exceeding my best-case estimate of 5:30 and was very ready to be off the bike. Problem is, I was still out in the middle of the country somewhere and clearly still nowhere near the lake. Finally I pulled into transition at 116.5 miles and 5:42:12 or 20.5mph. The extra 4.5 miles on the bike was painful and unappreciated, but at least it more than made up for the short swim. While this is my only Ironman so I can’t compare the difficulty of the bike course to other courses, other competitors were commenting that this new Great Floridian bike course is as challenging as IM Lake Placid and IM Wisconsin.

The final results show that my bike was the 31st best of the day (though the fastest bike of the day is clearly an error) and the accepted bike length was 116.5 miles.

Run:
I hobble into transition and grab my run gear bag and head into the changing tent. This time there is a sunscreen applier present and I take the extra time to make sure he lathers me up good as I’ve already been in the sun nearly six hours. It’s now two in the afternoon, clear skies and mid to upper 80s. I start the run exactly six hours and forty minutes into the race and am told I’m in 30th place. Wow, this is going better than I could have ever hoped. I’m a runner and have always been a runner. The run is my strength. Even when I’ve overdone it on the bike and struggled on the run, the run has been my strong leg. In my mind, I’m thinking I can definitely trot eight minute miles for a 3:30 marathon and a 10:10 final time. Worst case I completely bonk and limp through a four hour marathon and still come in well under 11 hours. If the run goes as well as the swim and bike I’m thinking about the possibility of 7:30 miles and a sub 10 hour finish. Shows you what I know.

The run starts out with a six mile loop away from the lake that hits a few mean hills, and then you do three laps around the enormous lake. The first mile goes roughly as expected. I don’t have my running legs yet and am kind of shuffling along. This is not unexpected; on my runs following long rides I typically wouldn’t find my running stride until the second mile or so. I hit the first mile in a little under eight minutes so I’m happy the shuffle I’m doing is a reasonable pace. The second mile includes a mean hill and I’m slowed to barely better than a walk. Worse, my legs don’t feel like they’re coming around, they feel even more sluggish. And then, in the third mile, tragedy strikes. My right hamstring knots up badly. I’m forced to a dead stop and stop and stretch it. This is my worst nightmare and I didn’t even imagine it could happen before mile 15 or so. I continue my shuffle and it’s not long before the left hamstring follows suit. My eight minute mile shuffle has been replaced with a ten minute mile shuffle and frequent stops to stretch my cramping hamstrings. This is going to be a long marathon if this keeps up.

Which it does. Somehow I keep knocking off mile after mile at a death shuffle pace. From miles 7 to 12 or so there’s something new to worry about. My stomach is clearly not handling food and drink well. I’m starting to look pregnant as it is clearly visible that my stomach is bloated and I can feel stuff sloshing around inside. And I sound like a mobile symphony. My belches play the trumpet, my backside plays the trombone, and cymbals are crashing in my stomach. I’m forced to stop and bend over from pain in my belly around mile 13, and it’s not long after that I give the ‘It’s a wafer-thin’ fat guy from Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life” a run for his money in vomit quantity and distance. I could not believe the amount of liquid that I had been carrying around in my stomach; I think now that I had not absorbed anything the entire run although I had been drinking at least one cup of Gatorade every mile.

My stomach felt better but my legs didn’t. And I was worried about dehydration as it was now the hottest part of the day and I couldn’t keep any fluids down. But, I pressed on with my pathetic shuffle interrupted by power walking whenever I felt hamstring cramps coming on. Ten hours came and went and I still had over a lap to go. My worst-case four hour marathon came and went and I still had four miles to go. Finally the finish line was in sight. I try to keep up my shuffle but I feel another hamstring cramp coming on. This is where I would stop and powerwalk to continue to make forward progress and prevent the debilitating muscle knotting, but I’m in the finishing chute and everyone’s cheering so I keep running. My hamstrings don’t care, so they knot up. So here I am, 100 yards from the finish and I need to stop and stretch. They loosen up and I hobble in the last 100 yards. I finish and I am an Ironman – a crazy, a nut, check me in to the insane asylum. My 4:47:13 marathon is humbling and terribly disappointing, but I am happy that I gutted it out and finished anyway.

My final time is 11:27:28, good for 75th place and 1st place Clydesdale 39 and under.

PostRace:
Due to my finishing chute cramping dramatics, the medical personnel take me away to check me out. I explain the situation that I didn’t really keep any fluids down the whole marathon so they keep me awhile to keep an eye on me. Eventually, the doctor decides I don’t need an IV and he gives me some chicken broth and sends me on my way. Amazingly I feel pretty good considering the 144 mile day I had just put in. The run was painful but it wasn’t hard. I just physically couldn’t run to the point that I was working hard and I think that reflected itself in how fresh I felt afterwards. I had already had nearly five hours of warming down. My legs certainly were sore and I most definitely felt like I had a long day of working out, but I wasn’t as crippled following the race as I’d expected and I recovered more quickly in the days following the race than I’d expected.

Epilogue:
So, what went wrong? I really don’t know. I’ve been told “very few people figure out the Ironman their first time”, but in hindsight I don’t know what I would do differently. My training was ideal and I had done lots of bricks so I was surprised my legs cramped like they did. I consumed lots of fluids and calories and salt on the bike; I went through 2 powerbars, roughly 10 ounces of Hammergel, 12 Succeed salt tablets, and 11-12 Gatorade bottles. I was under control the entire bike and my heartrate was where I wanted it so I don’t feel I gave too much on the bike to have a good run. Perhaps the last twenty miles on the bike when I started to get tired I should have eased off a bit, but I really don’t think I completely fried my legs on the bike, although the symptoms of my run would imply that to be the cause.

So, what now? My plan had been to be “one and done” with this Ironman stuff. And, maybe I will be. I can’t see myself doing the necessary training for this year in and year out. And I also can’t see myself resting my case on that performance when I know I am capable of so much more. I guess time will tell.

And I want to thank my father and Nicole for all their help on the course. It was so great seeing you in multiple locations on the bike when I was feeling great and it was all so much fun. And I really needed you where you were on the run so I could just put it in my mind, “just get around the lake to where Nicole and Dad are, worry about the rest later”

I also want to thank the Bonzai cycling group for including me in their training, particularly Bill Kvetkas, Kirsten Ward, and Bob Williams. I’d also like to thank the Masters coaches of the Tysons Sport&Health SwimmingWeasels for helping me improve my swim so much over the past 24 months.