tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16267358358990807812024-03-13T23:09:59.276-03:00Sock SnobADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-87777769294641752152013-10-14T14:35:00.002-03:002013-10-15T21:28:27.097-03:00Working Honeymoon<div style="text-align: justify;">
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The Valley Harvest 50km Ultramarathon last weekend was possibly one, if not the, hardest thing I've ever done. <i>Mea culpa, </i>I went into it underprepared; not through any sense of slack-ass but because I missed some crucial weekends of training by doing other stuff. Officiating mainly. Having said that, as hard as the Ultra was (really, <i>really</i> fecking hard), I wouldn't have traded the officiating experiences I had this summer for 15 seconds a kilometer less and a framed print.<br />
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I've worked national events, Continental Cups and even a couple of world Cups but never a WTS event. Back in September I was lucky enough to skip straight to the big dog and work not just a WTS event but the Grand
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The icing on the cake, what made it more special was it was in London, my adoptive (if not actual) home town back in Blighty.
It was also somewhat of a honeymoon for <i>la belle</i> and myself. Our wedding date back in May was chosen as it didn't conflict with either our racing schedule or that of our guests. It almost seemed natural that our honeymoon, such as it was, would be combined with an officiating grip. Edmonton just didn't do it for us (sorry Edmonton), accommodations in Magog definately weren't honeymoon quality and St Andrews was just too brief a trip. Besides, there's something about London. Samuel Johnson was right, <a href="http://www.samueljohnson.com/tiredlon.html">when you're tired of London</a>, etc etc..... </div>
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So, here in a but of a nutshell is a kinda diary</div>
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<i>Tuesday September 10: </i>we actually got to the UK on Saturday 7th and went staight to Leeds to see my mother and step-father. Actually I'm not from Leeds either, rather from a small village to the norrh of Leeds, Horsforth, long since subsumed into the Leeds-Bradford conurbation. Horsforth also just happens to be where the Brownlees are from, more of them later, but for now, here's Ali's gold postbox in Horsforth. </div>
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After a couple of days at home, including the obligatory "<i>John couldn't make the wedding but we have a bottle of champagne here: shall we open it?</i>" we got the train from Leeds on Tuesday morning, pulled into KGX bang on time and went straight to race-site in Hyde Park with our suitcases. Given that our hotel was only a 15 minute walk from race site and 5 minutes from Hyde Park's Queen Gate, we didn't really leave Hyde Park for the next five days! As soon as we walked into the race village we met Janice Turner, the Canada Games TD and the BTF's Bob Newton, who we worked with in at World Dus three years ago. Two minutes later we bumped into John Petrides. In short, seven minutes in and we were already among friends.</div>
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We went straight to the TO's meeting, chaired by Thanos Nikopolous, arguably the highest triathlon official in the world. Asides maybe, from Gergly Markus, who was the team leader instead. Anyway, Thanos used the meeting to set the tone for the week and introduce the sector chiefs. We also had a paratriathlon seminar. It was the same one we had in Edmonton, but repetition is good, especially for something this new.
The sector chiefs weren't the only ones introduced, it seemed to me Thanos referred to me by name three or four times during the meeting as I had apparently been tapped as "the" bike-check guy. No pressure then! </div>
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I met my boss for the week, NZ's Ross Cahill. Also in the team was Janice and Yan Therrien. Along with Melissa, also a Kiwi, TZ was a very Canada/Kiwi affair.<br />
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After the meeting we checked in to our hotel, the ABBA on Queensgate. <br />
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Apparently we got an upgrade to an executive room, which is funny because we've only stayed in an ABBA once before, in Gijon (at World Dus 2011) and headed out to east london for a curry on Brick Lane. </div>
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<i>Wednesday September 11</i>. The only race scheduled for the Wednesday was the Aquathlon. There wasn't a lot for a bike-check guy to do during the aquathlon! Bike check guy however isn't an official ITU job designation, I was technically billed as Assistant TZ (bike check) although to be honest I could have just as easily been Assistant Registration as that's where most of the actual bike checking took place. Registration was where<i> la belle</i> was stationed with the USA's Joyce Donaldson and her sector chief, Mike Masters, who I think I was Prince William's helicopter mechanic. So instead of bike check at the aquathlon. I worked transition. It was fun, I'd never really worked an aquathlon before, just a small AG one here in NS with 20 people or something. Not the same. The Aquathlon helped us all get into the groove of things as there were age-group, para and elite races all compressed into one afternoon. </div>
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<i>Thursday September 12.</i> This was our big day, with the Junior men and Junior Women followed by the U23 Men and U23 women. We were at race site at 05:30, which meant getting up at 04:30 which for those still struggling with jet-lag was a little like getting up at midnight! Janice, Yan and I checked in the Junior women, went and worked TZ to get them out of T1 before returning to Registration to check the Junior men while the junior women finished up, then go work TZ and get the Junior men out of T1. Repeat for the U23s. You get the picture for the day. With big, multi-race events you don't get to see the whole race, you'll only get to see your small, two-metre square of blue carpet. For instance, I was asked a few times about the bike or run routes and I just didn't know; still don't!</div>
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I was lucky being tasked to be in-between bike-check and TZ proper. At least I got so see some racing. <i>La belle</i> was pure Registration for four days and barely saw a pedal turned in anger all week. </div>
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Our work wasn't done after the U23 as the Canadian/Kiwi bike check team segued straight into the Tri1 paratriathlon check; hand-bikes and racing chairs. This was somewhat new to most of us but I was lucky enough to have had some exposure to it in Edmonton. Fortunately Thanos was there to get us trained up and super-comfortable with it.<br />
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Then, after the Tri1 were finished the Elites turned up. Most of them rode down and they racked in the same place we were checking the hand-bikes so we ended up pulling security on the elite bikes and one very crappy fixie (which I hope belonged to a coach) while they were being briefed.<br />
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I couldn't really leave anyway as <i>la belle</i> was registration and checking them all in. Everyone was on a road bike except the Brownlees, who rolled down on Boardman MTB's. One of the Yorkshire BTF guys said "<i>you going to race that then are you</i>" to which Ali replied with a smile "<i>well, I've got to make in interesting 'aven't I</i>?" </div>
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All in all, we got off race-site at 19:00. Long day. </div>
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<i>Friday September 13</i>: This was one of three consecutive mental days with age-grouper and elite racing. One of the nice ways the event was arranged was with the TOs. They were very proud about having a team of 80 TOs. We were split up, with some doing primarily age-group and others Elites. This meant that we didn't all have to pull 0-dark thirty starts every day. So whereas <i>la belle</i>, Ross, Yan, Janice and a whole bunch of us were all up stupid early on Thursday, half of the TOs team were having a relative lie-in. Conversely, on Friday, we were able to get the lie-in while the age-group Sprint kicked off at the crack of sparrows. <br />
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Friday was the paratriathlon. Although as a team we checked all the bikes, the TZ was split into two, with the Tri1, Tri2 and Tri5 (in other words all the lower-leg impairments) in the Elite TZ and the Tri3, Tri4 and Tri6 in age-group transition.<br />
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Elite bike-check was fun; aero-carbon, deep-dish wheels, Dura-Ace, Red and Record but ultimately a bit samey at times: "<i>Oh look, another Scott Foil with Zipp 404s and Di2</i>". The Para's bike were a weird and wonderful mix: each individuals' bike was customised to his or her individual disability, <br />
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The tandems, for instance, were pretty easy to check as there were no modifications. Anyway, I could look at tandems all day, even if I can't ride one with <i>la belle</i>. There's nothing worse than a back-seat driver on a tandem. I mean, all the rear gunner needs to do is pedal, but that's a different story. <br />
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The Janice/Andrew bike-check tandem was assigned to Tri4 bike-check. Tri4 is upper-limb impairment. Whereas I have a whole ton of respect for all the para-athletes, I have a special admiration for the Tri4s. Just wait until you've seen an athlete take a corner, full gas, on the bars with only one arm. It's something that eludes many age-groupers!<br />
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For the Tri4s, we got to use the "approved modifications" book, an ITU booklet which as the name suggests contains approved modifications to paratriathletes' bikes. My book, which was just a print-out of the pdf, got hammered as it (naturally) rained as we were working outside in a small, tented-off field, and I wasn't wearing a rain-coat! Not that a rain-coat would have helped my paperwork!<br />
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<i>La belle </i>might disagree, but it seemed to me that the bikes for the lower-limb impairments mostly followed the same pattern, as a rule standard bikes. The para-specific stuff for a Tri2 or Tri5 was, in the main, having a prosthetic limb of some description; be it a traditional endoskeleton-type or a Blade-runner like carbon leaf, that clipped into the pedal. The Tri4s however were all somewhat unique, with each bike more closely reflecting the individuals disability. From a bike-geek's point-of-view, pure nerdy heaven, Where do I sign up to do more? Checking Tri4 bikes was a little like doing a bike-assesment when booking a bike in for work at Cyclesmith; check the brakes, check the gears, check the wheels. Certainly, that skill-set was very useful. The level of ingenuity in the Tri4 bikes was amazing, and I saw Di2 used in ways I'm sure Shimano had not dreamed of. I don't think I saw Campy's EPS on any of the bikes. If this is because it's inherently less adaptable than Di2 or it just reflects the relative newness of EPS I don't know. Time will tell.<br />
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We had to turn a couple of bikes away for dangerous modifications (not only not in the book but frankly dangerous) but fortunately both athletes were able to get their bikes fixed to our satisfaction before their starts. One guy made the pontoon by the skin of his teeth; it's quite the story.<br />
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He turned up with only one working brake. Having only one arm he had disconnected the front brake as he couldn't use it. The easy fix was a cable-splitter. Most Tri4s had one fitted. He didn't. Unfortunately, the on-site mechanics didn't have a cable splitter and his start was in a hour. There's a moral here about checking in early I'm sure. Anyway, the on-site mechanics from a a well-known on-line bike shop weren't able to fix it so bike ended up with the Specialized techs at the Spec booth at 13:30 hrs. Did I mention his start was 14:10? Unfortunately for me, I didn't have a radio so I was literally running the 400 m between check-in and the Spec tent and then the additional 400m to AG TZ, where he would eventually be racked, and begging air-time from whomever I could find with a radio! At 13:45 it looked like the Spec Techs had fixed it by drilling a hole into his existing MTB brake-lever and running a cable from that to the previously superfluous front brake. As they drilled and hemmed and hawed, the guys team manager was hopping from foot to foot outside the Spec tent with his athletes TZ box (running shoes, bike shoes, helmet etc). At 13:50 I went to see the team manager and told him the repair was done and could he kindly get his athlete onto the pontoon now as it would be a pity if he missed his start after all this work. The manager threw the TZ box at me and exited stage left. I grabbed the box and the bike and exited stage right. I must have looked quite the sight, running through the Expo to AG TZ with a box under one arm and pushing his bike with the other. Anyway, I had his stuff set up and racked by 14:05 and managed to inform the Referee that he was all was good to go.<br />
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As the guy was a Tri4 and I was working the other TZ so I didn't even know he'd started until I saw him an hour later on the run.<br />
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Knowing how Cyclesmith works, Techs are paid for off-the-clock work the clock in beer, so that night I headed out to Waitrose and bought them beer, which Lesley Buchanan, the Race Referee (and also a Canadian) wouldn't let me pay for; which I thought was a bit classy. All in all, a job well done I think. The bike techs, always the unsung heroes (who can do a bike-race if their bike doesn't work?) did a sterling job under the radar and got their beer and, more importantly, the athlete got his race on the world's biggest triathlon stage.<br />
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Paratriathlon TZ was the only Elite TZ we, as officials, had to be physically present in, as opposed to observing from a distance. We also had three or four extra officials in there, the paratriathlon classifiers. Part of their gig is to observe the para-athletes in competition to see if they are over-representing their disability. Appeals over classification are a big thing in para-sport. At least in triathlon we only have seven categories; imagine athletics which has dozens! Add the handlers, and it was packed, as you can see i the official ITU video.<br />
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With handbikes, regular bikes and racing chairs flying all over the place. How we didn't lose anyone to an errant wheel I don't know. I was nearly taken out by a handbike. This thing was flying at 40kph, the whole thing barely 60cm above the ground: knee-height basically. Totally silent and painted bright orange, it was like watching the pod-race from The Phantom Menace.<br />
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Then we were all nearly taken out by a handbike which didn't stop on the Dismount line and skidded into TZ as the guy dropped both front anchors and went from 40 to 0 on wet carpet.<br />
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It occurs to me this is getting awfully long, so I"ll stop it here and to the Elite races in another post.<br />
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Thanks for hanging on there and reading.<br />
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-91919006301115277442013-09-17T19:31:00.000-03:002013-09-17T19:31:39.925-03:00Counting Sheep<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I have no idea where this came from whilst idly persuing my iTunes, with a vague idea to listen to 80s music while banging out some emails and stuff.</div>
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Back in the very early 90s I was living in a bedsit in Forest Gate, E7. That's deepest, darkest London to most of you. You've heard of Jack the Ripper? The original "<i>from hell</i>" Ripper? Well Forest Gate is several miles to the east of that! Nice place. Anyway, I was there for my 3rd and 4th year undergrad. Then, as now, I couldn't pass by a second hand book or record shop without passing in. There was one on the main street in Forest Gate, a ten minute walk from home. They had a box of 7" singles for 25p or something. I bought a shed-load of stuff there. </div>
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There are two that stick in the mind. One was Alison Moyet's It won't be long.</div>
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The other, The Airhead's Counting Sheep.<br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/4268595">AIRHEAD - Counting Sheep</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user1596950">Alex Alexmusic</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
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True earworms both, played on a loop they helped me get over a breakup. They also appeared on every mix-tape I made until I lost them in one of my many moves (since leaving home at 18 I've moved at least dozen times, including three countries, four if you include Scotland)</div>
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There's no message here dear reader, just ambushed by iTunes. Plus, Counting Sheep is just so toe-tapping catchy I think it's a crime it isn't better known!</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-39180420824947988912013-08-25T21:31:00.000-03:002013-08-27T22:07:20.191-03:00Canada Games 2013<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Well, I've had a week at home after a pretty crazy week in Magog and Sherbrooke at the Canada Games and I think my head has just about stopped spinning. As those of you who follow me on the Facebook or the Twitters will have read, I needed a week off to get over my week "off". At least I've ploughed through that load of zebra (read black 'n white) technical laundry.</div>
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As with all major triathlon events, with maybe the exception of London in three weeks, the pool of Technical Officials (TOs) was too small. Three from one province, two from that one, none from these ones. I'm sure there's some deeper political meaning to these machinations, but I'm too dumb to get it.<br />
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Cue obligatory finish-line TO's picture. It's kind of a tradition.</div>
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The TD for the event was Janice Turner from Newfoundland. We've worked together before and she seems to get on really well with <i>la belle</i>, which is good as I reckon those two are TriCan's Rio-bound officials right there. Race Ref was David Markham, who is pretty much an officiating God as far as we are concerned. I could't shake the feeling we were being assessed for the whole week! There's a whole lot of leadership right there. From Quebec we had Lise Dube and Eric Pregeant, both of whom I've worked with before too, and a new NTO, Sophie Yergeau. Eric always makes out his English isn't very good, but he always gets the job done and even understands me, and that's not something every anglophone Canadian could say. All three were at Mont Tremblant on Sunday, whilst Lise et Eric were also at the Magog Age-group Long Course the day before we started off at CG. Talk about hard workers. From BC there was Chief Race Official (and motor-pool car booker, social events coordinator and Resto St Hubert convert) Troyce Beglaw and also the guy who is running the risk of becoming my triathlon mentor, Andrew Armstrong (a fellow Brit). I reckon most of the National and International races I've worked, I've worked with him. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Go and see British Andrew in Transition.</span></div>
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New Brunswick sent Marilyn Gergeas and Linda MacLeod, the latter of whom seems to be wearing both NS and NB crowns and along with <i>la belle</i> came hot-foot from World Du's which, apparently, to call a gong-show is doing a great disservice to gong-shows. To round out the group we had Cathy Meara from MB and Terry Hooper from SK. Interestingly Cathy and Terry both had children in the Games, in triathlon!</div>
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It sounds like a lot but when you divide the event into seven sectors; swim, bike, run, registration, penalty, transition and finish, then suck away three TOs with "oversight" roles (TD, HR, CRO) and put another one in as announcer/MC then the pool gets pretty thin. The upshot of being understaffed is that you get to do a whole bunch of jobs, which is pretty cool. As an NTO you are supposed to be able to do all parts of an event from Registration to Medals and that was very much my experience at CG. </div>
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My major gig was Chief Run, which is always the best seat in the house. Let's face it, modern, draft-legal triathlon is very much a game of sit-in in the swim, sit-in on the bike, sit-in for the first half of the run and then cane it all the way home on the last lap. As Run, I was leading the run pack and was there to see, in real time, Emily Wagner put the boots to Emy Legault in the ladies, and similarly see Xavier Grenier-Talavera run some of the best Canadian U-23s off his heels in the mens. I mean, really sports-fans, who wouldn't want to see that? TSN should put a GoPro on the back of my bike next time!</div>
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Plus, I was assigned to a whole slate of secondary or assistant jobs. I was paired up with Andrew Armstrong again as Assistant Transition which means, basically, bike-check. What? You mean I get to play with carbon bikes with fancy wheels and Di2? Sure thing boss. We confused a whole bunch of Francophones who were told at some point over the week "<i>Go and see British Andrew in Transition</i>". Yup, that narrowed it down! I was also given Starter for the relays. This was super-awesome. You see, for the last few years <i>la belle</i> and I have been to enough ITU races to have heard more than once the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s17XDrKuqc4">Pirates of the Caribbean music</a> and the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYbxQSJ-M1w">heartbeat</a> that are the hall-marks of an ITU event and once, at World Du's in Gijon, were even luckier to be in an age-group start corral when it was played. With <i>la belle </i>as announcer, for the relays we were given the music and a mic and told to get on with it. Then I also got to help with the line-ups for the medal ceremonies. As with St Andrews, pretty quickly you can go from being a bike-mechanic to FOP official to show-producer in the space of 90 minutes.</div>
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Speaking of relays there are a couple of youtube videos already for the relays (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-yyM6VkE78">here</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdSMehPgXW8">here</a>). I, for one, find them pretty interesting as I get to see things I never saw on the day. Sure, I got to see the front of the run, but I saw little of the swim, the relay hand-over or TZ.<br />
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At Gijon, we heard the Pirates music every ten minutes as the Elites were racing, as it would be played whenever the pack came into the stadium, In between blasts of Pirates they played Rihanna's "Only Girl In The World" and J Lo's "On The Floor" on a continual loop! I left Spain convinced ITU's soundtrack had been picked by a 14 year-old girl! At this Games, the official song was Chantal Kreviazuk's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Za2-Fp1HOMs">Supersonic</a>, which sounds like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d020hcWA_Wg">Clocks</a> by Coldplay, but isn't. Supersonic permeated the Games, the awards ceeremonies and the closing ceremony and I really don't want to hear it again!</div>
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The level of bilingualism, always high, was even higher given we were in Quebec. On our first day of competition I headed out onto the run course on Old Bess only to find myself briefing the volunteers, aid-station people and one cop in some kind of bastard Franglais. Even better was dealing with some of the locals as they tried to drive through road-blocks onto the closed bike course.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"<i>Non, non monsieur. Cette route est barr</i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 18px;">é</i></span><i>e</i>. You must <i>suiviez la voiture blanche</i>"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was so discombobulated one of my radio calls later in the day was</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Lead men heading out on thei<i>r deuxi<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">è</span>me tour"</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Spoken like a true New Brunswicker!</span></div>
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My level of linguistic discombobulation was nowhere near<i> la belle</i>'s. As announcer she had to stick to the Games protocols as well as providing full commentary in English and French. After the individual event she was somewhat criticized by Games staff for not being fully bilingual. Her crime was to introduce anglophone athletes in English and Francophone ones in French. The RD described this nit-pickiness as "<i>s'enfarger dans les fleurs du tapis</i>" or literally tripping over the flower pattern on the carpet. It made me wonder if they didn't have one of those clocks they have at chess labelled Eng and Fr and were hitting buttons every time she switched language and if both clocks didn't show the same time at the end of the event, fire the MC. </div>
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Clearly they weren't at the cycling, which I was able to get to, where the commentator was both fully Francophone, barely bothering with English, and totally biassed towards Quebec athletes to boot. Or indeed the closing ceremonies. Most dignitaries stumbled through a speech in both their preferred and non-prefered official language (the GG's accent is particularly gruesome, even to my ears) except the Parti Quebecois Minister for Education and sport, Madame Malavoy who spoke only in French and, according to <i>la belle</i>, managed to avoid saying the word "Canada" once in her allotted five minutes. It was so bad some of the athletes (I think) started to chant "<i>Anglais, anglais</i>" as she spoke but were quickly hushed! If the idea was to piss off the best and brightest in English Canada, mission accomplished. The fireworks were pretty though.<br />
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The venue was brilliant; this was my fourth year at Magog and every year <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ren<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">é</span> </span>and his team have risen to the challenge of putting on a bigger and better event. Unlike some RDs we've all worked for, Rene's default position always has been "<i>sure, we can find a way to do that</i>". After the team relays we had only one complaint; the lake wasn't precisely the same colour blue as the ITU carpet. He's going to see what he can do about that!<br />
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Unfortunately, our digs at the University de Sherbrooke weren't up to snuff. At least they had the vision to put most of the triathlon officials in adjoining rooms so when we all got up and were banging around at o-dark-thirty on race morning, we were only disturbing our own. The state of the rooms was, charitably, awful and the bathrooms were worse. Our shared bathroom was two-tone, with the institutional blue paint originally applied in 1972 peeking out from holes in the institutional beige paint last applied in 1989. As predicted in my first post, <i>la belle</i> had a major meltdown (my only surprise was she arrived on Sunday but it took until Monday night) and for the rest of the week was one silverfish away from packing up and leaving and driving in from Drummondville each morning if necessary. Breakfast was even worse. I saw a tweet from the athlete village at Bishops, with three smiling (and likely bilingual) volunteers standing in front of a warming tray with piles of bacon, eggs and other tasty comestibles. In the Major Technical Officiels breakfast hall we had a francophone Seinfeldt-esque soup-Nazi. You could have coffee OR fruit-juice. A banana OR a muffin. Sure, unlike the athletes we weren't doing 5000 calorie days but still, it felt a bit much.<br />
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We didn't have a lot of time to ourselves to be honest, a couple of afternoons here and there and we had to attend to family business, with <i>la belle</i>'s parents living within two hours of Magog. It'll be the same in London, but with my lot not hers.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That was pretty much how it was for us; a succession of early mornings, even earlier mornings, athlete briefings, bike-checks, course familiarization, dorm-related Blitz spirit, Franglias, St Hubert chicken and Pirates of the Caribbean. God, it was fun.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 21px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">À bientôt </span></span><br />
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-48814720619561222192013-08-11T11:29:00.006-03:002013-08-11T11:36:10.942-03:00Touchdown, Sherbrooke<br />
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Arrived in Sherbrooke, Quebec, yesterday for the Canada Summer Games, following an epic 14 hour solo drive from halifax. I started to get a bit punchy around Levis, but fortunately I came round after an emmergency Timmies stop. I remember ordering in French, they didn't have what I ordered so they gave me some alternatives in rapid French, which was unfortunate as in my current state I wasn't conversant in either of Canada's officiel languages at the time! I just looked dumb (dumber?) and eventually got a soup. At least it was hot! <br />
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So far, life has been pretty simple since arriving in Sherbrooke, even streamlined. The major technical officiels are based at the Universite de Sherbrooke, whereas the athletes are all HQ'd at Bishops. So, whereas the athletes village is probably hopping right now, the officials village, for want of a better word, is pretty sedate. Pretty grey too! Regadrless of the sport, the official uniform appears to be black-and-white across the board. It's like living in a zebra house! At least we don't feel our age and weight, not being surrounded by impossibly young and fit athletes, but that will change soon enough.<br />
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Against my better nature I woke early, so I decided to go for a short run. There's a nice network of crusher-dust trails right outside the door so I did a tranquil 5 miles in the woods. I think I rediscovered why I like running. Anyway, <i> chalice</i> it's hilly! I forsee some kids changing their gearing later today. Magog is very much the same as Sherbrooke and it's not 25T territory!
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Accrediation was easy, everything was there waiting for me and scoring a parking pass was easy too. They even gave us our per diem cheques straight up. We even got our majeur officiels polo shirts. This may not sound like a big deal, and in the big scheme it isn't, but until a month ago, we weren't getting anything. It's a nice touch.<br />
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The only down-side so far is the accomodation; the Universite deSherbrooke dorms leave *a lot* to be desired. We'd been warned, but they still came as an unpleasant surprise. La belle is going to have a shit-fit when she arrives. I wouldn't be surpirsed if she bails and camps in the Smart Car instead!<br />
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I checked in with the TriCan big guns last night and, to my great surprise, I have a spare hour this morning. Partly this is because race-site is currently occupied by the Trimemphre triathlon, the event i've worked for the last three years, and partly because Rene Pommerleau, the RD, is super-on-top of things. So there's no building of race-site for us today; Rene already has it all done. Plus, if you look at it, having an AG race there today gives Rene the chnace to battle-test his course one last time before handing it over to us.
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We'l be briefing and checking the Juniors in today. Also, we'll check all the bikes thoroughly todau while we have rhe luxery of time, and just do spot-checks on race day. I'll be workiing with Andrew Armsteong again in the bike-check. Ypu, the two British Andrews at it again. This seems to be a gig I'm getting type-cast in, you know, give the bike-shop guy the bike check, but that suits me fine. For race-day I'm down as chief run, but we'll see what happens. Assignments get changed a lot! I had an interesting chat over breakfast with Troyce from BC who's TDing Challenge Penticton about the, ahem, challenges of working with the Challenge organisation. With St Andrews going Challenge next year, this is a topic I have more than an academic interest in!
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Well, I think that's my hour of rest done. Time to ring for the courtesy shuttle and get my arse down to race-site. <br />
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A la prochaine<br />
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-69978846034939697342013-07-24T21:32:00.000-03:002013-07-24T21:32:12.296-03:00R.U.I.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hydration.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sugars.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pain management. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All important to endurance athletes (let's just gloss over the fact I just called myself an endurance athlete shall we?). So when a colleague asked if I wanted to head over the Freemans on Quinpool Road after work (conveniently located a 10m stagger from the shop's side door) how could I say no? Yes, I know I wanted to head out for a quick run after work but I figured a quick brewski; hydration and sugars with a small dose of pain management and I'd still be good for that quick 5 miler along the waterfront.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alas, I plumped for the Bridge Brewing Company's Farmhouse Ale. It's good stuff. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Smooth. Strong.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Strong as in having one is like having half-a-pint-of-wine-strong. The first time I had one it went down smoothly. I chased it with a greasy pizza, and then chased the pizza with another Farmhouse. The second was as smooth as the first. I felt pretty good. No side-effects from pharmacologically active two-carbon hydroxyl compounds, </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then I got up and found some-one had stolen my legs. Tonight was pretty much the same except with only one beer and no pizza.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i357mgylx1w/UfBx2fGq0kI/AAAAAAAAMhk/gRKH2judino/s1600/Normal_pangalacticgargleblaster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i357mgylx1w/UfBx2fGq0kI/AAAAAAAAMhk/gRKH2judino/s320/Normal_pangalacticgargleblaster.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Clearly at odds with Douglas Adams' assertion that there are a n<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">umber of environmental and weapons treaties, as well as laws of physics, which prevent it from being mixed on Earth, </span>Bridge Brewing Company's Farmhouse Ale is clearly the earth-bound equivalent of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, famously described as like having your head smashed with a slice of lemon, wrapped around a gold brick.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't panic indeed,</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pH0zDwSsP48/UfBv-S9sRSI/AAAAAAAAMhI/jP7sTAgSiB0/s1600/h2g2-dont-panic-448x336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pH0zDwSsP48/UfBv-S9sRSI/AAAAAAAAMhI/jP7sTAgSiB0/s320/h2g2-dont-panic-448x336.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The subsequent run passed without too much incident, given that I was technically Running Under The Influence, although at one point I was <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXek9_IGWZA">all so long and thanks for all the fish</a>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seriously. Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters. Don't do it!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">AD</span></div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-30719309270958009232013-07-10T23:05:00.003-03:002013-07-10T23:05:29.270-03:00St Andrews Triathlon Weekend<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I'm really looking forward to this weekend. No getting up at 04:00 on Sunday and spending 12 hours on my feet as for the past six weeks (or so it seems). Bluenose, of course was an exception except instead of standing up for 12 hours I ran a marathon instead. Easy money. A weekend off. Then Navy Tridents as TD (12 hours on race-site), Cyclesmith Duathlon as RD (another 12 hours if you include the tear-down), Greenwood as a bog-standard line official (12 hours if you include the commute), the Edmonton World Cup (three hours jet-lag either way, 12 hours on site three days in a row and the red-eye home), another weekend off except I worked at actual work instead and then the St Andrews Tri-weekend. This weekend; nada. No work, no race. Maybe a little lie-in. The guys want to do a twenty-miler on Sunday; I'm all for it but I'm vetoing any start-time that begins with the number 6.</div>
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St Andrews was the last of the crazy string of races. There was a junior national series race on Saturday and a 1900/90/21 long-course on Sunday. I originally wanted to do Sunday's accompanying short-course (1000/50/10.5) but somehow got suckered in to TDing it instead. I'm still not sure how that happened.</div>
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Maybe there's a story in that we only had a team of six officials for the weekend: four from NS, two from NB. Who knows? I'm not even sure who I was representing on Sunday! Not TriCan. TNS? Not sure how I can swing that. Ditto for TriNB. Freelancing maybe! Whistle for hire :)</div>
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It was great to work with the Juniors on Saturday, I think I'm starting to get to know some of the kids. I know <i>la belle </i>is; after all she's the one who's been registering them for the last couple of years. I just get to check their bikes. </div>
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As well as some of the Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Alberta teams there were other familiar faces too. The Nova Scotia Canada Games team was there too, getting some last-minute race-sharpening in and checking out their competition for Sherbrooke.</div>
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On Friday we drove to St Andrews and, by luck or judgement (I don't know which) our motel was next-door to registration and practically next door to TZ. Linda McLeod from TNS was the TD for the Junior and I got to HR, which for Friday meant attending the briefing, answering some questions, pre-checking some bikes and wheels and catching up with coaches.</div>
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I also got to go on the bike famil. No cops, just the LOC and a big truck! <br />
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While I was having fun with bikes and riding in a big-ass truck, MC was running registration. Again. She's got this down to a science!</div>
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The RDs, Garth and Helena Millar are expat Brits and great to work with. They had a lot of experience back home as RDs, experience those of us in blue vests and the fancy hats ignore at our peril. Hanging out with my countrymen had a deleterious effect on my accent though. I met a few other friendly faces too; Scott MacKenzie and John Russell from TriNB, who I'd run in to at National meetings before. It was great to work with them again. Tracy Shelley, as junior race series RD, was there too. We've kinda worked together before, but this was the first time we were on a team together. Nothing got by Tracy (even if I called her Shelley for half the weekend, she didn't miss that!) and she helped us a lot in the absence of a team-leader to oversee the fancy stuff.</div>
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Saturday was an early start. 04:00 reveille, TZ at 05:00. The Juniors are always nicely disciplined and need very little herding compared to age-groupers. Thank goodness! We got the ladies off in time and they didn't disappoint, blitzing through the course. </div>
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I can't remember much from within the race because with such a small team we were constantly rushing from one thing to another whilst simultaneously trying to do the officials thing. I was feeling more than a little stressed about converting the T2 run-out into the finish line in less than ten minutes after the last athlete left T2 but to my surprise we had it done so quickly we were actually twiddling our thumbs waiting for the first lady. Let's hear it for Garth and Helana's experience. It was also nice to have<i> la belle</i> out of registration and backing me up; I didn't have to ask, she just did.</div>
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The only fly in the ointment was the short reset time between the ladies and the men and unfortunately we started the latter ten minutes late. That's a bit of a big deal, but they were faster than the women, with the lead man in under one hour. Crickey! </div>
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One of the things about working a race at this level is that you get to use the whole rule-book. Most AG athletes are familiar with the swim, TZ, bike and run portions, but these only occupy the first third or half of the book. The rest is about running a high level race. For only the fifth time in my officiating career I got to break out the awards ceremony protocol (MC seemingly lives the Uniform appendices nowadays). It's quite surreal to go from bike-mechanic, line-referee to show-producer in the space of 90 minutes. I think we did a good job, even if the duck-tape wouldn't stick and we had to get two six-footguys to hide behind the gantry and hold the TriCan tapes, and St Andrew's and the Algonquin Hotel certainly gave a great backdrop.</div>
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The award winners didn't get medals though, they got original art-work from a local artist. Cool.</div>
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There's not much to say about Sunday's age-group race except that if it was this good this year, I can't wait to see what it will look like next year after Challenge drops off two containers of branded stuff.</div>
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As you've all undoubtedly heard, I ruled wetsuits out on the basis the water was between 26 and 28C. Never mind the "<i>No Wetsuits</i>" and "<i>Really No Wetsuits</i>" rules that WTC seem to have, this would have been no wetsuits under any code. I heard a fair amount of grumbling before the event, but no-one came up to me afterwards to complain.</div>
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Funny story. The NB athletes don't know me. So I walk into TZ just after 06:15 (yes we were late, but I was triple-checking the water temp) and announced </div>
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"<i>Ladies and gentlemen: I am the bearer of bad news,,,,,</i>"</div>
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and gave the spiel. No 'suits, no socks and so-on.</div>
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A little later one of the NB athletes comes up to me and says</div>
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"<i>With your accent, even bad news sounds better!</i>"</div>
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Cute. And no, she still wasn't allowed to wear one!</div>
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The draft-busters here were given a treat with two almost WWII-vintage motorbikes with sidecars, ammunition panniers, Brodie-esque helmets, the lot! <i>La belle</i> did over 100kms in one of Sunday, and I wasn't able to get a pic but here's Tri NB prez Paul Lavoie in the other one....</div>
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Very Escape to Victory. I told<i> la belle</i> if her pilot tried to jump the wire into Switzerland she should call me immediately or go in the cooler. Of course, comms with someone in a sidecar were awesome. We could talk and text no problem as she wasn't holding on to her pilot! It's the way to go. Plus, it's never felt more appropriate to call the shot-gun passenger on a moto the rear gunner!</div>
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Fokkers at 12 o'clock indeed.</div>
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The shadow of Mont Tremblant was all over this race. It was a great race and Challenge St Andrews (as it will be next year) will be a great event in it's own right, and it will stand in it's own right. However with many people either coming to it having done the 70.3 a fortnight ago or using it as training for the full IM in a month comparisons are hard not to make. One woman came into T2, flopped down on her tri-mat and said "<i>that was harder than Tremblant</i>", in an awestruck way. I heard many favourably compare the course to the Tremblant course; unrelenting rolling hills. Very little flat. Nothing too steep but the hills keep on coming. If, when, you come here for the race, forget that you're in the foothills of the Appalachians at your peril!</div>
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This didn't seem to deter the athletes. As they collected their stuff from TZ at the end of the day, they praised the enthusiasm of the St Andrew's crowd, the guerilla aid-stations and the friendliness of the town. I always say a measure of how welcoming a town is to a race is by the number of guerilla aid-stations and St Andrews wins hands down.</div>
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We stopped in St Hubert in Moncton on the way home; a Quebec resto <i>la belle </i>really misses. As your average OCD endurance athletes we usually stress a little at the sheer saturated fat content of BBQ chicken with fries and gravy but when we realized this was literally our only meal of the day, we settled down and ordered more coleslaw.</div>
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So thats that. Smashing weekend and I hope they ask me back next year; I'd be there in a heartbeat.</div>
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-6167806157043478152013-06-26T09:47:00.000-03:002013-06-26T09:47:14.584-03:00Ja, I'm a hipster<br />
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The stereotype of the LBS is that it's owned by an ex-pro and staffed by a bunch of up-and-coming guys in their late teens who are more interested in pro-dealing their shot at the big time than customer service. Cyclesmith is not like this. The average age on the sales-floor in the low 40s and most of the guys are on career 2.0. One of the advantages of this is a wealth of disparate experiences and a fairly thick skin to boot. I like to feel we're also pretty small-l liberal; black, white, pink, rainbow. It doesn't matter.</div>
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There is one caveat. They used to say that anti-catholicism was the last remaining acceptable -ism in North America. At Cyclesmith creed or colour doesn't matter but i think there is one, last acceptable -ism.</div>
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Hipsterism.</div>
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Well, certainly against each other.</div>
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Hipster, like art, is notoriously hard to define. There seem to be some commonly agreed-upon biomarkers; fixed-gear bikes, tattoos, facial hair, art-house coffee shops, music from the eighties and beer.</div>
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Here, many of us accuse each other (jocularly, mind you. At least I hope it is) of being hipsters, we'll great each other with "<i>I'm sorry sir, we don't serve your type in her</i>e", and deny any such accusation against ourselves. As the definition if hipster is so vague, it's easy to pigeon-hole so-and-so as a hipster based on meeting only a small set of criteria e.g. bike and beer, whilst willfully ignoring facial hair and "career" in social media. The "<i>no I'm not a hipster</i>" defense doesn't do anything as, as we we all know, there's nothing a hipster likes less than being pigeon-holed. It's a heads-I-win, tails-you-lose situation.</div>
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I'm going to take a stand. I'm not going to deny my hipsteristic tendencies any more. Just like suppressing your sexuality can lead you on your knees getting arrested for indecent acts public washrooms, I'm afraid that if I continue to deny my hipsterism, I'm going to end up simultaneously wearing fake tortoiseshell glasses and contacts or start drinking PBR. So, whilst I may not have a bike-polo mallet (Tony Lacopia, I am talking to you), my name is Andrew and I am a hipster.</div>
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Lets look at the evidence.</div>
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1) I live in a condo in the North End of Halifax. When you read the "<i>Gentrifying Scum Out Of Our Neighborhood</i>" graffiti, they're talking about me or to me.</div>
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2) Not only do I drive a Smart car (four seats are too mainstream), so does my wife. In fact, we park two Smart cars in a single parking spot in that gentrified North End condo. Because one spot per car is, well, just too mainstream.</div>
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3) We were early adopters of Two If By Sea cafe in Dartmouth. We don't go any more because it's way too crowded nowadays and the nature of the crowd has changed since their halcyon opening days. In short, we don't go to TIBS, a watch-word for hipsters in this town, any more because it's too mainstream!</div>
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4) Instead we go to Java Blend. Does it matter we can see it from our balcony? No. Does it matter if Jim is a friend? No. Does it matter that Jim supports the events we put on including our wedding? Hell no. What matters is we get our coffee from the same place as <a href="http://idiotballroom.blogspot.ca/2011/04/barefoot-hipster-in-coffee-shop.html">this guy.</a></div>
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5) Fixies. I have two. One is a straight-up fixie, one is a road-bike conversion. I'm the original owner of both. They have brakes, fenders, a GPS speedo. In short they're proper bikes and I do proper rides on them. Have you done Peggys Cove on 68" fixed? Does any of this matter compared to the fact I bought one of the frames because the chromed lugs made it look retro? Retro? Authentic? Hello? Hipster. </div>
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5.5) There's a Brooks saddle on one of those fixies. Sigh. </div>
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6) I'll freely acknowledge my shoe problem (Filipino!) but really, I have a bike jersey problem. Hell, I could have a chapter of the Bike Jersey Project book all to myself. I'd like to draw the jury's attention to two jerseys. The Crest jersey was my club jersey in the late eighties. It still fits me. But it's like from the eighties. Pretty hipster. The retro-look Adidas wool jersey? I bought it on sale at the La Cordee in St Bruno because it looked retro and would look great when I was on those fixies. Hipster? Duh!</div>
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7) Spandau Ballet, Simple Minds, ABC, Culture Club? I like music from the eighties. Of course I like music from the eighties. I came of age in the eighties. Mind you, I like The Smiths nowadays, but I didn't care for them in the actual eighties because everyone else was listening to them; in short they were too mainstream. Evidence perhaps of latent hipster tendencies even back in the eighties. I had a crush on Molly Ringwald when I was, like, you know, in high school and she was playing kids who were, like, you know, in high school. Does any of this stand in mitigation against the fact I have hours of eighties music on my iPod and copies of The Breakfast Club and Pretty In Pink on the shelf? Hell no. Hipster.</div>
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8) I can, in fact, wear my wife's jeans. The legs are a touch tight and a short on me, but that's OK because then they don't get caught in the chain. The only thing that's worse than this would be having those Rapha jeans with the Rapha logo on the inside, so it can be read when the pants-cuff is rolled up to mid-shin. Furthermore, I do, in fact, have actual Rapha cycling clothing and yes, I have worn the cycling cap as a stand-alone fashion accessory.</div>
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9) I used drink imported Belgian beer; Hoegaarden, Duvel and the like. Pretentious?<i> Moi</i>? I used to think it was about getting in touch with my inner Flandrian (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFL11Fs8Om8">cyclocross is the next big thing you know</a>), but really it was more about Molson being too mainstream. Who cares if Olands is brewed down the street and fits in with the 100 mile diet ethos (hipster), but hipster beer credentials trump buying beer with a low carbon footprint. Nowadays, I get my beer in a <a href="http://www.garrisonbrewing.com/show/growlers/">growler</a>, because bottles are, like, too mainstream. </div>
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10) I don't have tattoos. But I get enough cat-5 tattoos at work portaging the bikes around. I don't so much have a chain-ring tattoo on my leg as having a succession of them. Similarly, I don't have a NOBR AKES knuckle tattoo as I skin my knuckles on other peoples bikes. Seriously man, permanent tattoos are just too mainstream.</div>
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I'm trying to get <a href="http://vimeo.com/60135793" http:="" m.youtube.com="" v="Hhhq90eJNdA" watch="">help,</a> but it may be too late. It may have run it's course. In short, my name is Andrew and I'm a hipster.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1626735835899080781" http:="" m.youtube.com="" v="Hhhq90eJNdA" watch=""><br /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1626735835899080781" http:="" m.youtube.com="" v="Hhhq90eJNdA" watch=""></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1626735835899080781" http:="" m.youtube.com="" v="Hhhq90eJNdA" watch="">AD</a></div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-67016493192237519742013-06-17T22:10:00.000-03:002013-06-17T22:10:49.728-03:00Run Rabbit Run<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I think my attitude towards running is getting a little hedonistic. It's because of the bunny ears.</div>
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No, not that kind of bunny ears, although that would be hedonistic, These kind of bunny ears.</div>
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Slowing down and, figuratively speaking, smelling the roses has reminded me how much fun running can be. Not only that, but if you are not turning yourself inside out to get a PB or a BQ then even running a marathon can be fun, and fun is surely why we do this. Goodness knows we aren't doing it for the money and the consensus is out as to whether we're doing this for the good of our health or not (as we might be shortening our lives) so we might as well be having fun. Isn't that hedonism?</div>
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My average marathon time, not including the three or four pace-bunny outings, is around the 3:07 mark, with a handful of outliers eight-to-ten minutes either side of this arithmetic mean. Nicely Normal. This translates to an average 4:26 kilometre pace. Bunnying a 3:30 or longer takes the pace down to 5 minutes a kilometre or longer. I've been asked, more than once, isn't it difficult to run this slowly? No is the answer. If anything, it's the 4:26s that are are abnormal. If you were to send me out Garminless (which is to say functionally naked) I would naturally do a 4:40 or 4:45, so doing a 5:00 isn't too much of a stretch. Besides, if one is bunnying a Running Room group to 3:30, they may be on a 10:1 run:walk schedule, which equals a 4:45 running pace with a 1 minute power walk.</div>
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I don't train differently if I'm "only" bunnying. My last outing with ears was Bluenose 2013 and I still put in the miles, let me tell you. Many of those long runs were cracked off at a pace significantly faster than my projected bunny pace. I didn't even have a marathon of my own coming up, BN was it, and I still racked up over 1000 miles in training since Jan 1. Seems excessive? Twenty six point two are not numbers to be taken with alacrity and, regardless of pace, you need to treat the marathon with respect. One reason I train "properly" is because the marathon treats my body the same way, whether I'm bunning or racing. When I'm bunnying, I often find my body goes through the same stages of aches and pains and bonkiness as in a raced marathon, only the crappy sensations don't come on quite as hard and don't last quite as long. Similarly, I usually recover somewhat more quickly after a bunnied marathon than a raced one. Going down stairs after two days instead of three perhaps. <br />
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One hears much of bunnys and bunnying strategies. Most of these are somewhat negative and I'm rather glad never to have heard through the grapevine "<i>that 3:30 bunny at the x marathon was a real muppet</i>". The singular most important trait in a pace-bunny is to run steadily and even split the marathon. People may come and go out of your group, but as long as you run at 4:45 or 5:00 or whatever, you are doing your job. It may seem heartless to erstwhile members of your group as you steam away slowly after 20 miles, but you must stick to the pace. No deviations. It's a bit OCD, but as runners we're all a little OCD at heart, so it comes naturally!<br />
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It annoys me to hear the bunny horror stories about bunnies who bolt off the line in order to "gain time", which we all know is a marathoning fools' errand, and are never seen again. It's not sensible running if you're trying to run for yourself, much less if you've been entrusted with getting others in on time. I once heard of a bunny who crossed the line fist-pumping, like he'd got a good time for himself. Did I mention he was ten minutes ahead of schedule too? It may seem like a bit of a lark; they pay your entry and you get to run, albeit in the dorky t-shirt and ears, but remember; you're essentially employed and entrusted for the morning to run a pace. <br />
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Alternatively, the 3:15 pace-bunny at Dublin was a right sargeant-major. I heard him coming, barking orders "<i>water station coming up; water on the left, Gatorade on the right</i>", "<i>Left hand corner coming, lets swing right and run the tangen</i>t". I almost expected him to say "<i>...and if you see a kitten in the middle of the road, don't stop! Take no prisoners</i>". <br />
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I don't bolt off the line, I don't bank time (on purpose) but neither am I the Dublin RSM. I'll be your friend, I'll cajole and coax and encourage, I'll talk and tell jokes or I'll listen. I'll work with them, not against them. At the start I ask the group that coalesces around me at the start how they want to run; run:walk or continuous, It's the same either way to me, this is their race, not mine. Whatever strategy they choose, I tell them I'll re-assess it periodically. Sometimes we can keep on schedule to the end, sometimes we need to change, but let me worry about that. I've had to do both. I'll dole out a bit of tough love though. If one thing is certain, I tell them, I will run 3:30. That I guarantee, I won't wait for you. I'll come back for you once, but after that, you're on your own. </div>
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Bunnying also gives an interesting perspective on how one runs a marathon. In my experience, and those of others, one runs with several distinct groups. You start with a reasonably large group hoping for, let us say, 3:30. Most of this group hangs with you for the first half. No problem. One or two might drop off. Somewhere between 21 and 25 kilometres this groups melts away in ones and twos. Gradually, your original group is replaced by a second, people who were likely aiming at a 3:15 and are now coming backwards steadily. This group might last until 35 kilometres until it too melts. Eventually, you will pick up a few stragglers who were likely on pace for a 3:10 or better until they hit they wall. One or two of these stragglers will find the energy to hop on your heels for the last mile or so to the finish. It makes you think upon how you run your own races. The standard deviation on my personal 4:25 average must be quite large; likely starting at a brisk 4:15 and slowing to an ignominious 4:40!</div>
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Running is often seen as a solitary activity. When one thinks about doing good by running, one thinks of charity running, which apart from pan-handling around your family, friends and acquaintances (no doubt at the same time your friends are doing the same) means running in an actual bunny suit. Or a fat-man suit. Or a turtle suit. Of maybe just a baggy cotton t-shirt <i>a la</i> Simon Pegg in Run Fatboy Run, which you just know is going to do a job on your nipples. Or you could give back to the running community by working at races or even organizing a race. I've done those latter two. Man, that's hard work. So, as well as the sheer unabashed fun of running, pace-bunnying has another reward. You get to help out a bunch or runners by doing what you enjoy doing, <i>viz</i>, running. Win win!<br />
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Interestingly, pace bunnies in Halifax are usually organised by the Running Room. When I started this ears gig five years ago or so, I was the only non-Running Room pace bunny. At the last Bluenose, three or four of us out of the full. half and 10 were Halifax Running Club. I'd like to take a little credit for that, along with <i>la belle</i>, for getting the word out. I think more and more of our running partners are starting to see pace-bunnying not as a chore, not as something to do if you can't race but as a rewarding and meaningful activity in it's own right. Something I hear isn't "<i>I wouldn't like to do it</i>" but "<i>I don't think I'd be good at it</i>", which could be dissembling but I like to think is a more nuanced way of saying they're not sure they could harness their run-like-the-wind urges to come in bang on time. Why don't you just try it, I usually reply. You'd be great at it.<br />
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-88190568275685314202013-06-01T16:28:00.001-03:002013-06-01T16:38:53.504-03:00Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Why, Spongebob Squarepants of course.</div>
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But more about the yellow, square absorbent one in a bit.</div>
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I really wanted my next post to be about the pace-bunny experience. It's pretty much written, and I'd love to share it with both of you. However, I've just had a deeply unsatisfying morning that has left me more jaded with age-group sport and age-group athletes than I would care to admit.</div>
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<i>La belle </i>and I scored free entries to the Penguin Run at the RNS banquet last year, so we cashed them in. Except the ten miler was now a half-marathon; not an entirely popular decision I understand from listening to chat. Oh well, it is what it is.</div>
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Overall, I like the new course. New race HQ is about a kilometre down the old course from the old one. Parking was easier. It's outside, so that'll make it tricky if it rains but with the mercury (technically ink-in-glass nowadays) hitting 28C, that wasn't a problem today.</div>
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A pretty traffic-free course, and by my Garmin, bang-on distance. I heard some people complaining it was long, but I think they were running the tangents, not out on the left, hang a u-ey at the turnaround and come back on the left. I saw a bit of that going on. We (as in RNS) need to get that sorted.</div>
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Fortunately, the course was essentially traffic-free, which with runners using whichever side of the road they felt comfortable using, was a good thing. There was even a guerilla water-stop at 10km, which is always a sign that the local community is getting behind the event.</div>
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The course is really quite lumpy; not Cape Breton hilly, but grinding rollers. As you can see, not much elevation in any one hill, but they just came one after the other.</div>
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No flat to be found.</div>
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I got stuck in from the start; the first two kilometres were a bit fast, sucked along by the concomitant 5K but I tried to keep a lid on it. I was aware of a presence on my shoulder after the 2.5km turnaround for the 5K, and could see three people up ahead; Bryan Hipson, Mike Vargo and some guy no-one knew, who turned out to be a ringer from Saskatoon. We think he found it somewhat hillier than he was used to. Oh well, come to Nova Scotia for the lobster and the hills!</div>
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My shadow became my problem. I wasn't able to elicit much information from him, apart from that his name was Patrick and he did the Bluenose half in 1:24 or something and was looking for a sub-90 performance today. I don't know what he looked like, so I'm going with this.</div>
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I never saw his face, he never came through (not once), he never put his face in the wind. I was just aware of a figure on my shoulder. We were running pretty steady, between 4:05 and 4:15 per kilometer, nothing earth shattering. It sounded like he was working. After a while I started to get a bit aggravated about the lack of coming through to do his share of the pacing. I made a couple of half-hearted swings across the road to gesture "your turn", but no, my heels were a good place to be. I tried to be a good lead; pointed out the holes in the road (they were legion) and the water stops and tried to make sure we both had room at the table so we could run through unimpeded.</div>
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Still, no pacing help. I was feeling like a pace-bunny all over again but no ears. Except there was no talking because Mr The Star was wearing an iPod, so all I got for conversation was the steady tschh, tschh, tschh of the beats. After an hour I got a bit too P.O.d by that and asked over my shoulder</div>
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"<i>Could you turn that down or something?</i>"</div>
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No reply</div>
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"<i>Sorry, but could you turn that down or something?</i>"</div>
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Pause</div>
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"<i>Sorry, I had to turn my iPod off so I could hear you; what did you say?</i>"</div>
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"<i>Nothing</i>"</div>
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Grrr.</div>
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So I slowed down and made some wild course changes from the shoulder to the yellow line and back, trying to force him to to come through. Douchy I know. We only had three miles to go. I think I nearly went at ninety degrees at one time, but my faithful shadow stayed glued. I think I heard something along the lines of "<i>wow, it's like you're trying to get rid of me</i>". I didn't hear the sounds of pennies dropping.</div>
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The penultimate kilomter is an uphill drag, noting crazy, but after the rollercoaster of the previous nineteen it was heavy on the legs. I tried to slow up a little to save something for the flat finish but it was really to no avail as my bolts had been shot off on each hill, trying to wear him down. Coming around the final corner I turned and said "<i>I suppose you're going to outsprint me now</i>". </div>
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With 700m to go he became quite voluble. He was quite chuffed. Didn't think he had it in him to run that fast in the heat, didn't think he'd be able to stay with me. He couldn't come through because he couldn't have lasted out front at that pace for long.</div>
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With 500 m to go however, the front suddenly became a tenable place to be and he smoothly accelerated away. Clearly the previous 20.7 km were not to his liking, but this stretch had him written all over it! I think I slowed down. I hope I did, because I conceded fifteen seconds in 500m. Chip-time was a loooong 1:26. Let's do the maths. That's 5160". Five hundred metres at 4 minute/km pace is 2 minutes, 120". Or 2.3% of the race in front. I spent the previous 97.7% or 5040" dragging his arse up hill and down dale.</div>
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I've had many stand-up, knock-down, drag-out fights in running races and triathlons and, win or lose, I've always been able to walk up to the guy (or gal), put out my hand and say "<i>well done, great race</i>". Regardless of the outcome.</div>
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Not today.</div>
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On the plus side, Mr The Star had a great race. He didn't think he had it in him but he did anyway. You can't fault that. Tactically it was pretty astute; draft off the faster guy, come around at the end for the result (even if the result was a big 4th overall). Result! Tactically, I ran a bad race; too much time on the front, chasing my own demons (I've never run a half longer than 90 minutes and I wasn't prepared for today to be that day) and not paying enough attention to the guy behind. Plus, I think I gave up as we rounded the last corner with 700 to go. I know my heart wasn't in it.</div>
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Still, I feel used and essentially douched out of the position (yeah, yeah, that big 4th). In purely impassionate terms, he had an excellent race, I had a sub-par one and the better guy won. I just don't have to feel that way. From my perspective, it wasn't a classy move, even if it was the right one.</div>
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I didn't stay for the awards, I was too steamed. I still am if truth be known. <i> La belle</i> picked up my prize. I haven't opened it. If you want it Patrick let me know. It's yours. You earned it, even if you didn't work for it.</div>
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AD</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-24579029114295397822013-03-31T20:41:00.003-03:002013-03-31T20:41:57.040-03:00A fit-ing process<div style="text-align: justify;">
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By the time you read this I'll be back in Canada but for the purposes of writing, you find me in international departures at BWI. I just realised why this place looks familar (beyond that I was here three days ago), I was last here in 2006 (I think) with Jessica Boyd on our way to the aforementioned EFHW in Gettysbury. The drive out of Baltimore -in the dark on an unknown interstate and in a rental car, was particularly interesting, as I recall, as was getting lost in rural PA trying to find Gettysburg; something Lee probably hoped upon Meade! I can't for the life of me remember want we were presenting, probably <i>Aeromonas salmonicida</i> type IV pili, or maybe Type III secretion. I can't rightly remember. Either way, it seemed dreadfully important at the time!</div>
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Minute mircobial structures, needless to say, are not what brought me back here, it was the Trek fitting course. We just finished two intense days of anatomy, biomechanics and actual mechanics, with a hefty dose of evidence-based myth-debunking thrown in. Pure bliss in other words.</div>
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This is probably a good time for a Trek joke. As most of you know, my ex-wife is South African and a native Afrikanns speaker to boot. I learned a little Afrikaans, most of which I've forgotten and I realy only use at the ITU World Duathlon Championships when dealing with the South African team. <i>Is jy die team van Suid Afrika? Ja? Lekker! Kan jy </i><i>Engels</i><i> praat? Ja? D'is guid! </i> and then spent the rest of the conversation sounding like Matt Damon in Invictus! Anyway, the word "Trek" is a loanword into English from Afrikaans. It's a good job we have it, because without it the Trek Bicycle Corporation would be know as the Pull Bicycle Corporation which is nowhere near as evocative!</div>
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The course was full, with some 24 people plus Jeff Lohr and Dr Mark Timmerman from Trek, who were giving the course. </div>
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Most of the 24 were from two big local IBDs; Race Pace from MD and Spokes Etc from northern VA. Both are independantly owned with multiple locations. They both had strong fitting cultures, even having dedicated fitters, as well as a women's program that caters to women by women. Others had come from further afield; a fairly strong Pennsylavania contingent, one guy from Boston and four Canadians. As well as myself the were three guys from JoVelo in Mont Tremblant, Jon (owner) and Dan are below. Needless to say, we stuck together.</div>
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IMHO the course was pitched ideally to someone like myself; slightly geeky, bike-experienced, bike-shop experienced and still doing a lot of hands-on in the store. I knew quite a bit of what was being presented, so I didn't feel overwhelmed with information. Rather, I was able to process the old information which was being presented; often within a framework which it hadn't necessarily had before, and integrate it with the new knowledge. Plus it's all about applying the scientific method; observe, hypothesize, predict, experiment, repeat. A process I've been doing my whole adult life, expect now I can do it with bikes! Surely a win-win. </div>
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So overall, I now have a much better understanding of the background of bike-fitting now together with a coherent framework in which to put it and some processes to make it easier to perform. Also, when to perform it; we spent a lot of time discussing the difference between "bike sizing" and "bike fitting" which is much a business discussion as it is a cycling discussion. Anyway, this was the whole point of me coming. </div>
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Day one was lectures. Gross anatomy, biomechanics, bike mechanics and business. The load was shared evenly between Jeff and Mark. Mark was a true academic, in that he was easily sidetracked from the lecture, but to this LBS guy, the excursions from the syllabus were still interesting and added to the experience rather than take away.</div>
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The evening was on Trek at a local bar/resto called Frisco, chosen for the bewilderingly large selection of real ales on tap. Bike shops and Belgian beer; need I continue? The JoVelo guys started with shots and the evening went downhill from there! The conversation was wide ranging. We went across cycling from Trek business philosophy (in the
lucid interval before the 11% ABV artisanally-brewed beer took affect), He Who Must Not Be Named(you couldn't go to Nike and not talk about Tiger Woods either! Iluminating discussions, let me tell you!), doing business against Sportcheck and MEC and finally ending with a surprisingly passionate debate on mandatory helmet use by adults!</div>
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Day two was hands on all the way. Before lunch we learned the first part of any bike fitting; the interview and testing. I was the guinea-pig for the physical examination demonstrations and Mark confirmed what I knew. I am chronically stiff, especially in the hamstrings. Never mind a Speed Concept, I think I'll have to Project 1 a Trek Verve. I think a nice Fox fork, Alfine Di2, some tubeless ready 29er race-wheels and Brooks B33 ("for our more robust customers").</div>
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The afternon was pure self! We got our new shoes; Bontrager RXL !</div>
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We also did a full fit on ourselves. We got to be both client and fitter, seeing the process from both angles (as it were). Speaking of angles, we all downloaded digital protractor apps for our smartphones as there weren't enough goniometers. I guess I'll have to ask The Guys at work about using my phone on the sales floor!</div>
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Dan from JoVelo did an excellent job fitting me!</div>
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There were four sizing stations in the room, one with a differently-sized 2013 Trek Madone 5.2 and most of the tools required. Unfortunately, some of the kit destined for the course ended up in Illinois (?) so we were a little short on some things. </div>
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One sign you've been in a bike-shop too long? Totally <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">blas<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">é</span></span> about the bikes. There was, what? $15000 retail of carbon bike just lying around, not to mention a couple of thousand dollars worth of stems, saddles and bars. Stuff most people just stop and stare at. Not to mention drooling slightly at the corners of the mouth. we need to keep a mop on the sales floor! And all you could think was <i>"oh, another full carbon Madone? M'eh. At least it comes with the Ultegra crank". </i> On the plus side it means we can play with these things with a certain degree of impunity, we're not intimidated by the presence of so much carbon. On the minus side, my wow-factor quotient is now so much higher than before! Along with many guys in the shop, I think I'm regressing and get more excited by nice steel now than carbon! </div>
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The fit process was great. As well as learning a whole bunch, I got a set of fit coordinates I can transfer over to my own bikes at home. If anyone is wondering, especially those people with model-year 2012 Speed Concept 7.0s, the 54cm Madone was a good fit, but a 56 cm Madone would be a bit better, espcially as my chronically tight hmastrings mean I can't run the drop I think I should have and I could use the extra head-tube. Plus it would be more aero, all other things being considered. Once you get to the retail price of a Madone 5.2 then Project 1-ing the bike for the custoom paint and nice wheels becomes a bit of a no-brainer. Just sayin'.</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-28466508014950821862013-03-27T21:50:00.000-03:002013-03-27T21:50:24.477-03:00Whatever happened to Virginia, Wolfe?<br><br>Overall, I'm feeling pretty stoked about this week, seeing as it finds me at a Trek Bicycles fit course. The Trek fit course has four stops this year; the Canadian stop is in Vancouver at the end of April, which is why this week finds me at the Doubletree Inn, Columbia, MD instead, Maryland being a lot easier to get to than BC, not to mention the jet-lag is a lot more manageable. <br><br>
It's not the jet-lag that has me somewhat disoriented. Sitting here I'm probably only one hundred miles or so as the crow flies from Gloucester Point and Newport News, where I post-doc'd in the late nineties at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science (VIMS). Even though that was 13 years ago, the license plates and Food Lion grocery stores and the general ecology of the place are familiar enough that I don't look twice, even though I think I should.<br><br>
Also, for most of the years I was with the Feds, every March or April I would attend the Eastern Fish Health Workshop (EFHW), which was always in a mid-Atlantic state; Virginia (West or Occupied), Pennsylvania or either of the Carolinas. It was an opportunity to catch up with old colleagues from VIMS as well as other Canadian researchers. Plus, organiser Rocco Cipriano, was a bit (well, a lot) of a civil war buff and the EFHW would always have a battlefield tour one evening; Harpers Ferry, Antietam and even Gettysburg. Knowing I was coming to Baltimore in late March I would occasionally catch myself thinking "oh, it'll be great to see Steve again" before realising I wouldn't, unless he's had a career change like mine recently. I think Rocco managed to turn his love of the civil war into a paying proposition after he retired, so it's possible, but unlikely.<br><br>
I managed to shake some of the disorientation off with a short run after I checked in. I was initially skeptical, thinking I'd probably have a shitty 5km on the road facing oncoming traffic; they don't like sidewalks in this part of the world. I was blown away to find a network of paved cycling trails, in the style of <i>la route verte </i> in Quebec, that snake around the woods in this area. <br><br>
As I may have said, I'm super-stoked to be doing a fit course; I really enjoy the bike-fit process. I mean who wouldn't? It's science and anatomy and angles and bikes and problem solving! Chicken soup for my sciencey, bikey, nerdy soul I don't know if I'm any good at it, but this will make me better at it. <br><br>
Preparing to start geeking out in three, two, one....<br><br>
ADADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-56633440473665179982013-03-24T16:18:00.001-03:002013-03-24T16:18:09.396-03:00Du or Du Not, There Is No Tri<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Possibly the most cliched of all the sci-fi triathlon quotes, and one proudly bruited about by the more hydrophobic amongst us. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Ah yes,the duathlon, where the only water is in cups at the turnaround. Where, I daresay, most of us prefer it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Which brings me to the obligatory rant; why is it so hard to get people to come to duathlons? Listening to triathletes in the shop, in transition and on the start-line, it's clear that the swim hardly fills most with joy. The prevailing opinion seems to be the race only starts when ones' feet hit the beach. So why the duathlon is the "poor cousin" (I'll only do the du) I have no idea.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">That's not what compelled me to put proverbial pen to proverbial paper today.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> Rather it was what draws age-groupers to triathlon. This was prompted by a flood of runners getting into the sport recently. There were so many bikes at the running club this morning I was starting to feel like I was on Cyclesmith duty! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The last convert to the dark-side was a good friend of mine and an excellent runner. Two things came up in a recent conversation recently. The first was he told me that against his better nature, he really enjoyed his swim the other day. One only hopes that his innate swimming technique is better than his innate runnning technique which before his coach got hold of him, was best described as a frog in a blender. Apologies to South African spin bowler Paul Adams, the original sporting frog-in-a-blender.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Anyway, you get the idea.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The second thing was that a race we'd been to recently was the one local race he'd been to the most. Ten times I think. This struck a chord with me as I've been to this race eight times in ten years and it got me to thinking.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">In the same way your training goes (or should go!) through microcycles, mesocycles and macrocycles, one's running also cycles through microcycles, mesocycles and macrocycles. The micro- and mesocycles are the cycles of getting up earlier on Saturday and Sunday to go running than one does M-F to go to work and cyclical seasonal ups and downs. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The macrocycle is the steady annual heartbeat of the racing calendar. In Nova Scotia it goes something like this. March - Back to Basics 8 miler and The Moose. Then Boston; running it for the lucky few, following them on-line for the rest of us. Then Bluenose and the Cabot Trail Relay in May, Johnny Miles in June, Natal Day 6 miler in August, Rum Runners in September and then the three maritime marathons in October: Valley Harvest, PEI and Moncton. Then a couple of months in hibernation before starting to train up in December to start the cycle all over again!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">For some people there is comfort in this rhythm. If it's June, it's time for a trip to New Glasgow for Johnny Miles. I'm not sure I've ever been to New Glasgow (except for stopping for gas) at any other time. Sometimes, it can take you by surprise; when I voluntolded to time The Moose Run this year, my first reaction was, frankly, "It's time to time The Moose Run? Didn't I just do that?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">For some, after a while this rhythm can start to get a bit stale, and I think that's what's happening here. For some. there's a stink of ennui about the whole "if it's Thanksgiving, it's time for Valley Harvest" thing.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Triathlon can give you a whole new perspective on your racing and training whilst keeping us true to what makes us tick in the first place. Spiritually, a triathlon is very much like running. Sure, there'll be a winner, but it's unlikely to be you. Did you even see the winner in Boston? Thought not. However, you'll still get to take away a time for that Sprint or Olympic (or whatever), a time you can use to benchmark your progress through the sport; just as your first 10K time (or whatever) did</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">. As runners, we are also predisposed to spending hours outside (we aren't your average gym-rats), possibly in miserable weather. Plus, we already have the lycra tights and merino wool undershirts, so we have that side of cycling nailed too! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">It also opens up a whole new calendar. now you can go to Guysborough for perhaps my favorite race in Nova Scotia (but a place I've only been to on race-day - a cruel mistake I hope to rectify one day soon).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">If you don't feel like running, you can do a triathlon. Didn't get the time in the pool? Duathlon. Or a couple of running races. My favourite unintended consequence is dealing with injuries. It's been rare over the last, well too many years to count, that I've been too injured to do anything. Can't run; ride. Can't ride? Run. Then there's always the pool.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">So there you have it. I suspect the local triathlon scene will have to steel itself for a podium shake-up soon. There are some strong runners out there, many of them sub-three marathoners, who've been hitting the pool and getting serious about their cycling and just longing not to go to New Glasgow in June!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Don't say I didn't warn you.</span><br />
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-92204169698377257232013-03-16T18:15:00.000-03:002013-03-16T18:15:59.677-03:00The one where I run a lot<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/15kS8hjFPsc" width="420"></iframe><br />
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Of course, "the one where I run a lot" isn't that descriptive, as that is all I seem to do. I really wanted to keep that title for an overview of my assault on a Marathon Maniac's Iridium four-star level. Seeing as I haven't written since then, it seemed better to start where I left off and work up.</div>
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So, that "running a lot". How far is "a lot". This has been a monster running week; 110.92 km according to Garmin. Yeah, I "should" have done that extra 80 m but surprisingly, I'm not losing sleep over it. Again, according to Garmin, that's 9000 calories burned. Garmin may overestimate calorie-burn, so if we go by the 100 cal/mile R.O.T., then that's 6600 calories. Either way, 9000 or 6600 calories, that's between two and three days-worth food burned this week just running, which explains why I can't stop eating this week. Seriously, I could eat a horse, which of course in the UK has gone from a charming expression to a expression of reality.</div>
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It sounds like a lot, but it goes with the long run, which is supposed to be 25-30% of your weekly mileage. So that fits in nicely with that 35 km Tour de Dartmouth last Sunday with the guys.</div>
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It's funny, this monster mileage, because I'm not sure about my racing plans this spring. I'm pace-bunnying the Bluenose Full, but after that not sure. So, why the 35km? It was fun. In fact, all this pace-bunnying has had an unintended consequence. I think I've become lazy. I've realised just how much fun running, and running a marathon, can be when you're not turning yourself inside out to get a BQ. Denise and I had a chat about this last week, and it seems that she has also re-discovered a joy of running for running's sake. Where running is not a means to an end, but the end itself.</div>
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Last week's long run started at 07:20; early enough for a Monty Python Four Yorkshireman reference about having to get up half an hour before going to bed.</div>
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By 'eck tha' <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_Brooke-Taylor">Tim Brooke-Taylor</a> 'as an awful Yorkshu accent!<br />
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Starting that early made me think of a trend that I'm starting to see. Not in my group necessarily, but in conversations I have and overhear. It can be distilled simply to the phrase; </div>
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<i>"we're going to start early so I can get it </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">[</span>my long run, by bike ride<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">]</span><i> out of the way and have the rest of my day" </i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Sure, once in a while it may be necessary to start early so you can get something else done that day; last week one of our number had to be out at the airport at 10 and, all grumbling aside, we were happy to accommodate him. On a regular basis though? I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to hand in your r</span>unning (or cycling) <span class="Apple-style-span">card. </span><br />
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Running (or cycling) is the reason why we get up on a Sunday earlier than we do to go to work. Running (or cycling) is the objective of the day. Running (or cycling) is a pleasurable activity in and of itself. If its important to you, give it the time it deserves. I will agree that as something large, like a marathon or an Ironman hoves into view, workouts may become longer, harder, more brutal, and I'm certainly not advocating not taking a two hour run lightly, but once this attitude starts, then running (or cycling) becomes a chore, <i>viz "I </i>have<i> to go running</i>" rather than <i>"Yey, let's go running"</i>. <br />
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So, let's put the fun back in running. You don't have to do it; this isn't some junior-high gym-period. You made a choice, as a grown adult, to be here so quit whinging and have fun!<br />
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-43279931943562717932012-11-05T22:08:00.003-04:002012-11-05T22:08:37.255-04:00The one where I don't know where I am<br />
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There must be something wrong, as I find myself in Halifax, at home (an interesting concept for me to think about at the moment, more later) and not contemplating another trip any time soon. My bag is unpacked, no need to leave anything in there in advance of next week's trip (all the better to find it). I've even cleared the race-day detritus out of the bottom; the spare safety pins, that gel you don't really like but goes to the races anyway like some kind of talisman, the fliers, pens, advils and energy bars that came in race kit bags and the just-in-case arm-warmers, socks and throw-away gloves that never seem to get unpacked.</div>
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More than race-day crap came out of my bag. After the last trip, which was to IRL and GBR via USA, I have coat-pockets full of boarding passes, train & tube tickets and change from four different countries (USD, CAD, EUR and GBP). </div>
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I feel that I need a week off to get over my week off. We were away for eight nights which were, in terms of sleep, feast or famine. Either sleeping in until 10:30 or getting up at 05:00 or worse to catch a flight, catch a race or catch a wedding. I thought I could sleep in until nearly nine this morning and still make it to work, for once, by the skin of my teeth, but instead the jet-lag woke me up at 06:30. Bastard. Of course, when I woke up I had no idea where I was and why I was getting up while it was still dark; did I have a plane to catch? Or maybe a marathon.</div>
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I think my brain is still over the Atlantic, maybe somewhere near Iceland. A least when it lands on this side of the Atlantic, my poor, abused inner ears can get some respite from the last few weeks; from the rough ferry crossing to PEI to the flights to Europe, they need a rest too.</div>
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I'll tell you what else is still over the Atlantic; my sense of culture. Over here, I'm still described as "the British guy". In fact for 15 years, I've been described as nothing else. I self-identify as British. Yet if the's one thing I felt in the UK this time it was culture-shock. The last time I was in the UK it wasn't this way, but then I spent most of my time ensconced in the bosom of the ITU on the blue carpet, so I could have been anywhere in the world. This time, no acclimatisation time in TZ, just dropped straight into the pure, unadultarated Britishness of it all. Sure, I could make myself understood, I never had to repeat myself, but I just felt slightly alien. I looked the wrong way when crossing the road. I asked who called 9-1-1 not 9-9-9. The hotel, as I charitibly call it, in London was a prime example. No internet, luke-warm water in the shower with no pressure to speak of (our energy-savinig shower-head here has more oomph), low-quality toiletries, instant (instant!) coffee in the room and the creaky floor-boards, drafts and warped wooden fittings were less quaint than a sign of a poorly managed property. Yet it cost the same as the Holiday Inn. It wasn't just the hotel we were in; from what I heard, the Premier Inn just around the corner wasn't much better and it didn't have the benefit of Georgian architecture to mitigate for it's myriad other deficiencies.</div>
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I'm try and get around to posting some pictures of the trip when I finally work out where I am, what I am and which coins in my pocket I can use to pay for a cup of coffee in whichever country I decided I'm in in question 1.</div>
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In the meantime, a sock. Chris King socks; ten quid from the sale bin at Condor Cycles. Yes, they're actually DeFeet socks and not direct from the Portland, OR Gods of anodized headset bling and buttery-smooth bearings, but still, Chris King! Chris King!! CHRIS KING!!! What cyclist wouldn't?</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-43607673321800985482012-10-28T12:57:00.000-03:002012-10-28T13:21:01.768-03:00Marathon O'Bunny<br><br>
As usual, blog writing as catharsis, exorcising the internal demons. <br><br>
Moncton was an awesome experience; got my group in on-time (3:40:16) amd there was at least one PB in there somewhere. This was the original end of my late-season goal, which was to run the three Maritime province marathons in three weeks. That's not that huge achievement when you consider Scott Clarke from PEI running his third sub-3 in 14 days and HRC's AB expat Ian Blokland with his second Sub-3 in seven.
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It's a long story but my brother is getting married next week in London. That's London, England, not London, ON. Not that I need to exorcise any internal demons on that score. Sian is a lovely women, they have been together for at least ten years and known each other (not in the biblical sense of course) for far longer. They co-own a graphic design business and have two children together. So really, getting married is just crossing an 'i' and dotting a 't'.<br>
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Thanks to the vagaries of international airline prices it ended up being significantly cheaper to fly over two weekends, rather than just shoot over for a long weekend. In hindsight, with the Frankenstorm bearing down on the East coast this week, there is a good chance we wouldn't have been able to leave on Wednesday anyway. So, instead of bumming around London for a week, we ended up stopping over with Mary and Eoin in Dublin. The Dublin marathon just happens to be tomorrow. At first blush the trip to Emil's wedding was going to be that rarity, a holiday <i>sans</i> racing or officiating. The proximity of the Dublin marathon made us reconsider and each of us independently decided the opportunity was too good to pass up and entered. <br><br>
We just went to pick up our race-kits at the RDS Centre. Unlike the local races we've done recently, this had a proper expo; tons of booths with shoes and assorted kit as well as a huge Tri zone, as befits a race of this size, some 14000. There's only a marathon tomorrow, no half, no 10, no 5. That made the expo atmosphere a little different, maybe a little more relaxed. Fewer people totally freaking out about racing, more people just getting on with it. <br><br>
I got myself a nice running jacket from Craft, only €45, no POP sales tax (wow, did I just say something flattering about the VAT?), down from €115. I'll bore y'all with it later, but it's got some nice features. <br><br>
Starting to get the butterflies already. It can't be about doing the distance. I mean, I just did one didn't I? Part of it is dealing with four hours of fresh jet-lag. I'm doing the tried-true flying east trick of landing at dawn (which resets your circadian rhythm) on two hours sleep and gutting it out until after dinner. It's ugly, but it works. None-the-less, I think I'm more worried about sleeping in tomorrow than the event itself!<br><br>
Catastrophing a whole bunch again too. That bilateral cancer of the patella is back!<br><br>
I'm not sure how tomorrow will turn out. On the plus side, this event wasn't even on my radar a month ago, so I'm not exactly putting my season's goals in this basket. Mike Kennedy? <br><br>
I've felt myself getting slower over the last 14 days. At Valley I felt great running at 5 min/km. Seven days later at PEI, I was 10-and-1-ing a 3:30, so that was 4:45 min/k and a powerwalk. Toward the end of the Confederation Trail, 36 km, the 4:45s started to bite. Seven days later in Moncton I bunnied 3:40. My group wanted to run continuous, so that was 5:09 min/km and that started to feel hard toeards the end.<br><br>
So, what's going to happen? I think the best to hope for is set off at 4:20 min/km, hang around the 3:15 pace-bunny (instead of <i>being </i> it) and see how long it will stick. Then, when it stops, pull the Schleck-chute, slow down to pace-bunny pace and enjoy a walk around a city I don't know with 13 999 of my closest, newest, running buddies.<br><br>
Still, if all goes to plan, a finishers t-shirt and a Marathon Maniacs 4-star Iridium level await on Merrion Square.<br><br>
ADADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-30161131029593393592012-10-17T22:23:00.002-03:002012-10-17T22:36:28.771-03:00Rock Star Marathon<br />
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The PEI marathon was last weekend. It was my 21st "long run with a dossard", technically my 20th marathon and the second of four back-to-back marathon weekends. It was a pretty rockstar weekend.</div>
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Ian Blokland picked Nick Tentomas and myself up and we headed to PEI via New Glasgow to pick up Kevin Tulloch. The ferry crossing was a bit choppy, a bit too choppy for me and I felt pretty green all the way across to the island. One wonders if Nick felt the same, if not for different reasons. Kevin had 75 marathons under his belt, Ian 45 and my total is above while Nick had two. We were telling marathon stories all the way across and, that runners ten commandments meme thing doing the rounds on Facebook notwithstanding, I was feeling a touch inadequate!</div>
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I don't think it helped that when I tweeted a picture of the three of them, that damn autocorrect autocorrected Nick's name to No K Tentomas.</div>
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Sign in was pretty rock-star, we just walked right up to the volunteers. Strangely, there were five lining up for the marathon whilst there was no-one else for any other distance. The race-kit was pretty damn good: t-shirt, dossard and a double-sidedsheet of letter-paper with all the details for the weekend. No plastic bag, no bazillion fliers for local races you'll never do. Nice and green; I didn't get anything I didn't need, want or use. Of course, everyone likes schwag - no key-ring, pen, Advil or bottle-openner, but I can live without that. I also got my pace-bunny stuff from Running Room, which was a bit more traditional (apart from the sign and the ears); a bag, bunch of fliers and coupons and two single-serving packs of Cherios!</div>
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Getting to the race hotel was even better. </div>
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<i>"Hi, I have a reservation"</i></div>
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<i>"Dacanay, that's D-A-C..."</i></div>
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<i>"I know"</i></div>
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huh?</div>
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The desk-clerk, Isabelle, was Filipino! First time EVER I haven't had to spell my name. For Isabelle it just like Smith. Win!</div>
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The hotel was pretty good. I know that Ian and Nick got a better rate at the Quality Inn downtown and it was only a 5 minute walk from the finish, but the Holiday Inn had breakfast on at 05:00 for runners. Isabelle apologized that they'd only have coffee, cereal and fruit but they didn't think the runners would need the bacon and eggs. Clearly, she didn't know who she was talking to. </div>
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Speaking of which, to the three people who independently posted the following on my Facebook page. </div>
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Thanks, I got it.</div>
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Race morning felt pretty rock-star. I slept well. Breakfast was nice and peaceful. Funnily, there was on-one at breakfast at 5 and the 6 o'clock shuttle to the Confederation Centre wasn't full either. I'm not a morning person and it was nice to ease gently into the day. Yes, I wasn't racing but 26.2 is still quite the distance and whilst I'm fully committed to being a "professional" pace-bunny on the course, it's nice to have peace and quiet to get one's head into the right space before you start. We walked off the shuttle bus onto a nice coach for the 15 minute drive to the start at Brackely Beach. Once more, when the coach left it wasn't full. </div>
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When we got there it was brrr cold, 3C with a -1C wind-chill apparently. The bus driver let us stay on the coach. It even had a bathroom. Talk about feeling like a pro, a 2/3rds full bus, room to get ready in the warm and also attend to that last minute call of nature. To add to the pro-feel, our bus was scheduled as a baggage bus, to take runners' bags back to the finish, so we were able to walk off the bus, put our bag in the trunk and head to the start, No queues, no hordes of people. Very relaxing, under the circumstances.</div>
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After a short warm-up and trash-talking from the timers, I lined up a few rows back of the front. A couple of people latched on to me in the start corral. A pace-bunny is combination best friend, personal trainer, race advisor, comedian and drill sergeant, I went through the usual talk in the start corral in best-friend/trainer mode, <i>"I'm here to run for you", "it's not my race it's yours", "yes, we'll ten-and-one at a 4:45 km & a power-walk</i>" and "<i>we'll periodically reassess our strategy</i>". It's funny, but from experience I know that the people you start with are not the people you'll finish with so I also had to show a bit of steel "<i>If you get dropped I'll come back for you, but only once</i>" and "<i>I </i>will<i> run 3:30 so if there's one thing certain in the next 26 miles, I </i>will<i> cross that like at 11:30 a.m! "</i></div>
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A small group coalesced around me after the start. Funny, but I think I'm getting a rep as a pace-bunny as a couple of people told me they'd run with me before for that pace! I remember Rachel for sure, we'd been together at Bluenose. Then there was Matt. Even though I was the bunny, he was our saviour as he'd remind me about walk-breaks. I often forget walk-breaks, not because I'm being a git, but I honestly forget!</div>
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The first half, to the start of the Confederation Trail was quite uneventful, we ended up a minute or so ahead but we were running conservatively and trying not to "bank time". The group stayed at three people or so, with some guys drifting in and our of our orbit as their continuous run pace and our walk/run pace precessed in and out of phase. The real fun started when we hit the Trail. </div>
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I remember the trail as a bit of a power-suck from when I ran in '04 and it hadn't changed. We went from an easy 4:43 pace (told you we were a bit fast) to busting ourselves to stay on pace. I gave the group a choice: slow down to 5 min/k continuous pace or keep on 10-1 but work harder to keep on pace. The consensus was the stay to the 10-1. The race as a whole started to break up and spread out here, both as the pace and the running surface started to bite. Soon we were passing fading runners. I stayed cheery and told each one we were 3:30 and 10-1, we were taking a walk-break in <i>x</i> minutes and they were welcome to hop on the train and join us. Nearly everyone we passed hopped on board. At one point I must have had ten following my ears. It thinned out as some people were dropped and others used us as a psychological boost to get through a tough kilometer and took off again at their goal pace. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Our group exploded for real when we got off the trail at 34km. I really felt for Matt, who told us at 18km he felt like he usually does at 36km, so goodness knows how he felt</span> at nearly 36.<span class="Apple-style-span"> The guy hung tough though. I was in a bit of a quandary as the group splintered, as we'd all worked so well together and to come apart so close to the finish felt wrong. I looked at my watch and realised that I was slower than goal pace <i>and </i>dropping everyone, but had to press on and on target. </span></div>
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Two people came with me, Anita Howard and Kristen Gough. I asked them how to run this, slow down and continuous run it in or speed up and 10-1. They both looked at me, as we were going uphill into the wind and said they'd rather continuous run it in a 5 minute kilometres s speeding up wasn't an option.</div>
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Those last 8 km were hard; tough rolling hills from 34 to 40 kms, not top mention a freshening head-wind, but Anita and Kristen hung on. Now, I was in my pace-bunny drill sergeant persona, encouraging and cajoling them up the hill and then rallying them to do it all over again. We picked up another guy who had been dangling off the front of the group on the trail. The three of us pressed on to the finish. Anita and Kristen slowly dropped off the back but Enrique, the other guy, hung in and even lifted it at the finish. </div>
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I came in at 3:30:09 and a pace of 5:01; not bad at all. What's even better was at least two PBs; Anita and Enrique. I call that a job well done. I took off my bib (to the thanks for the timers) and headed back up the course to run the rest of my guys in. I met them all on the road and was able to congratulate each and every one. I ran in to the finish with a few of them too. All of them finished in 3:42 or less. The race-director met me as I crossed the line for the last time and said she'd never seen a pace-bunny do that before. I was a bit surprised. After all, we'd all started this adventure together, shared the road together, it seemed wrong to finish and just bugger off without seeing them finish too.</div>
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Talking about finishes; egg-on-a-stick in the recovery tent?</div>
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Also talking about finishes, big kudos to Nick "No-K" Tentomas, with a massive 2:57, first time sub-3. Ian was his personal pace-bunny and also got some personal marathon redemption, finishing his first marathon after injury and is so stoked he's going to do it again in Moncton this Sunday. Kevin, the last musketeer, did a respectable 3:05. </div>
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I felt OK through he race, but my legs didn't have the pep and lift they'd had at Valley. Some of it was surely the cold, but some of it must have been some accumulated fatigue. So, going into Moncton this weekend, I've really taken my foot off the gas and taken three days off. Something I haven't done in a long time. It feels really weird: I'm sure I've gained 5 kilos and can no longer run for the bus. Still. we'll find out in Moncton. Still not sure about Dublin, should I floor it or walk it? Answers on a postcard.....</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-66420089448998686132012-10-12T22:03:00.001-03:002012-10-12T22:03:55.422-03:00Here I Go Again<br />
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I have a soft-spot for <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujnH4yNqL8E&feature=list_other&playnext=1&list=AL94UKMTqg-9AJTdLWcwaxxOoMBBe8lc3J">Is This Love</a>, which always reminds me of walking along the Leeds Ring Road in the pouring rain, but that's another story. Besides, Is This Love hardly describes my current state of mind, which is decidedly Here I Go Again. Packing again for another marathon. It feels like I just come back from one. Which, of course, I did. A bit different this time, as I'll be running as a pace-bunny. As I'e said before, 26.2, regardless of pace, is not a distance to be undertaken with alacrity and one still has to prepare properly. So I've still been tapering this week (more riding, less running), eating well, drinking well (water, you tarts) and catastrophising just like it's a "real" marathon. So once more, I've spent the day grimacing as I cycle through some bastard mix of compartment syndrome, a rapidly evolving shin-splint (I predict a full-blown stress-fracture by tomorrow morning) and cancer of the patella. Of course, all of this will resolve rapidly at 08:00:05 on Sunday morning.</div>
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I'm starting to think I need a separate box for pace-bunnying, just like I do for officiating. I had to go hunting hither and yon tonight for my two pace-bunny shirts and an appropriate hat!</div>
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Again, just like officiating, there is a uniform of the day: Running Room has both blue and red bunny shirts and white and black hats with ears. As I don't know which shirt we'll be wearing I've taken both. The only hat I have with 3:30 on it is a white one, so that one went in the bag too. Maybe I'll get another one tomorrow.</div>
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At the moment I'm quite looking forward to Monday morning, as I can have some of your actual sleep. Tonight is going to be a long, or should I say short night. I have to pick <i>la belle</i> up from a midnight flight at YHZ and I'm being picked up in turn tomorrow morning at 08:00. Perhaps I should stay at YHZ and they can pick me up on the way! Sunday morning is, perforce, race morning which always means breakfast at 5 before catching the bus to the start. So that means a lie-in on Monday</div>
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Should be an interesting car ride up as it sounds like a joke: an Englishman, a Scotsman, a Greek and a dude from Alberta are in a car driving to the PEI ferry. I don't know what the punchline is, but I'm pretty sure at least two are genetically predisposed not to get the drinks in. </div>
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On the serious side, there's some serious age-group marathoning in there. Kevin (the Scot) has run a ton of marathons, not quite Nevitt but getting there, and many are sub-3. Quiet as a runner and a person, he nether-the-less gets the job done. Unfortunately for our car-mates, we can speak together in an almost mutually unintelligible form of English. <i> Fit ya sayin'?</i> The Alberta guy is Ian Blokland, an academic on sabbatical. a recent addition to Halifax Running Club, member of our victorious Rum Runners team and holder of many sub-threes too. Nick is the Greek guy (if anyone has seen <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6hZkvrFIj0">Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels </a>you'll know what I'm <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKX32WqDNDU">thinking</a>), kicked my arse at Johnny Miles and if he doesn't go sub-three this weekend I'll be surprised. I think Ian is going to be his personal pace-bunny on Sunday. I know a few other people from Nova Scotia who are going, but unlike our eclectic car-some, I think these guys are Nova Scotia. Ian McGrath I believe is aiming sub-three as well as Nick whilst Anita Howard is aiming for 3:30 and I think will be following my bouncy, pink, Running Room issue ears across the island on Sunday.<br />
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Good luck all and remember, if you pass a car with an Englishman, a Scotsman, a Greek and a dude from Alberta, it's a joke!</div>
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ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-69614874085785439172012-10-08T12:38:00.000-03:002012-10-08T12:38:53.077-03:00In For The Long Run<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday was the 20th Valley Harvest Marathon (hereafter VHM). It was to be my 4th time at the event, one half, two fulls, a 50K Ultramarathon and the slowest winning times on both the Kentville and Wolfville courses. It was an event with a few significant milestones. It was Dave Nevitt's 100th "career" marathon (a story covered with greater eloquence elsewhere), Mark "The Original Cookie Monster" Campbell's 40th marathon (caveat, inc. Ironman and other associated madness) and my 20th "long run with a dossard". </div>
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As an interesting side-note, Marathon Maniacs recently had this dicussion: how to best tally up your career statistics. I think we can all be happy not including our Sprint Triathlons in our career 5K count but somehow, intuitively, I'm sure many of us feel a marathon or longer takes a certain degree of commitment and investment above and beyond that required of a 5K. Not to denigrate our 5K-running cousins. The overall feeling was that you should keep three totals; marathons, ultras and total. So I guess I'm 19 + 1 and marathon #20 will be this weekend as the 3:30 pace-bunny at PEI.</div>
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VHM was an early start, I mean Ironman early. The plan was up at 04:00, in the car by 04:45, Wolfville by 06:00, race-start at 07:00, Anything after race-start was up to the running Gods. To be honest, I think I was more stressed by not getting up on time than the race.</div>
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Mike Kennedy entered the ultra on a whim and I agreed to pick him up at 04:50. Even more stress now to make sure I woke up on time. I set two, independent alarms and<i> la belle </i>graciously agreed to set hers. As it was, I woke up at 01:00, 02:00 and 03:00 and then 03:50. At the latter, I figured I'd be worse off if I tried to squeeze an extra ten minutes of snooze so I just got up and pre-empted all the alarms.</div>
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It was nice to have some company on the drive up and we managed to chat about anything but the impending event. It rained on us as we drove up and it seemed as though the race was going to be a bit damp and miserable, but we piled into Acadia under clearing skies. The whole ultra-marathon thing only sank in when we go to the sports centre to sign in.</div>
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Yes, I know. Arm-warmers and a singlet. Again. I'm running out of excuses, <i>non</i>?</div>
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Of course, getting there at 06:00 also had it's advantages: rock-start parking, rock-star bathrooms (two stalls for five guys, compare-and-contrast to two stalls and 900 guys an hour later), and unobstructed rock-star access to the coffee-pot. </div>
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There was a bit of gallows humour at the start, I don't think anyone there had done an Ultra before! Still, we had a nice personalised chat with the race director and the timing guys at the start. They say that ultrarunning is a different beast and with a whole one event under my belt, I think I would agree. I've never seen so much of a relaxed atmosphere on a start-line. Counter-intuititivily, given that it was likely further than any of us had ever run in a single go, it was chatty and relaxed and very un-intimidating.</div>
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When we were given the go, it seemed there was a 500ms pause as everyone looked at each other as if to say "<i>What? Now? Shall we go</i>". Certainly it would have been bad form to scorch off the start-line to score an early 10m lead. I think we ran the first few hundred metres together before differences in gait and cadence started to pull us apart, </div>
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As for my own race, I ran the first 10K with Ron "Cookie MacKilt" MacDougal. After that I did about 10K on my own before Denis Choquette caught me. Initially I thought I was caught and dropped as</div>
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he went through at about 4:45/km whereas I was trying to keep a lid on it and stay at around 5:00/km. Instead Denis came back to me on a hill and we ran together for the next ten miles. It was great to have some company and, to be honest, to be in the lead with the lead bicycle was a boon as we were able to follow the correct course, as the ultra's extra 8K loop was not well marked.</div>
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The first twenty miles were possibly one of the best runs I've had in my life, ever. And that's quite a statement. It was dark when we left and as we wound our way through the dikes we were treated to the sun rising over the Bay of Fundy. The skies were blue, the wind was light, the temperature was moderate: it can't have been more than 15C and there were no man-made sounds whatsoever.</div>
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Of course, you have to pay for something like that. At around 35K Denis pulled way from me. At first I thought it would be more <i>plus ca change, plus ca la meme chose</i> and I'd catch him on the next hill, but no; at the top I'd still be a few tens of metres away, and so on and so forth until I was truly gapped. So I settled down to run the last ten miles on my own as the distance started to bite.</div>
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It was getting warmer and I didn't peel down my arm-warmers until the 20 mile mark, so all you haters out there, it was the right fashion choice. In terms of thermoregulation at least, if not in absolute sartorial terms.</div>
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It is said that long, long running is as much a mental as a physical game. I think I lost the plot a little around the 37K mark. I still had the legs, but I didn't have the mind. Oh well. I wasn't thinking in absolute terms but, as we were back on the full marathon course, I was keying off the marathon signs instead; 36km, 37km and so-on, instead of 44km, 45km; one way not to think about the distance. I think mile-marker watching is a sign it's going horribly wrong and I spent six miles waiting for signs to come up. Natch. It came together again with three kms to go, but not after walking the aid-stations and half of the hill up off the causeway to the main road. My Garmin clearly shows four dips in pace. I don't think it made to much of a difference in the end. In absolute terms, my kilometer splits in that six or seven kms slowed down to a 5:20 average from even 5s, so call it two minutes lost, in a 240 minute race; that's 1%.</div>
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It didn't help that I felt let down my my Mizunos, for the first time ever. Not that I'm making excuses because of my equipment, but my feet felt very numb after 25 miles. Physiologically and anatomically I know <i>why</i> my feet were numb, but I don't know <i>why-why</i>. Was it the distance i.e. will this always happen to me, or was it the increasing heat of the day i.e. I do get this feeling on long, hot bike-ride, or was it relatively new shoes and insoles i,e, I didn't put the insoles from the old Mizunos in the new ones but then on the other hand I've never had this problem before with this make of shoes. Idea and counter-idea. One could drive oneself insane trying to analyse this, and there may not even be anything there to analyse.</div>
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My goal for the day was 5 minute pace for a 4:10 finish. Officially, I'm 5:03 for 4:11. 0.2% off my goal-time: I think that scores as a hit. Given that there were only 13 people. placings are a bit ridiculous but I was 3rd overall, and third age-group: yup, 40-49 is the age-group of death for endurance stuff. With another 50 entrants, I doubt I would have placed but there's no doubt the top 20 would have been the almost exclusive territory of Masters, Senior Masters and above. Denis and I were both between by John DeWolfe, who didn't read the website and turned up for the 08:30 start. His gun time was nearly 5 1/2 hours but his chip-time was an astounding 3:55 for 50 kms. </div>
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In fact I was relegated twice; Mark Sein introduced me as the winner when I entered the stadium: somehow he missed Denis coming in six minutes earlier. I was really confused when I heard Mark as I did my Paris-Roubaix-esque lap of the track, and had to assume Denis had DNF'd; lots of funny things happen in marathons - you can easily go from lead to stretcher-case in two miles. Then to third an hour later when John came in. Denis and I were a bit confused at first being introduced as second and third respectively when we were pretty clear that I had been the lead then he was the lead and there was no way we could have been Rosie Ruiz-ed, but we worked it out. Technically, plenty of room for an appeal, but why? It was the VHM Ultra, not worlds. The best guy won and with a killer time. The dude crushed it good and proper. <br />
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In terms of winning and losing, the event was also pretty low key. Everyone was treated as a winner, but, just like the start, there were no egos here and that feeling of camaraderie from the start lasted until the end. All the finishers in the ultra got a framed print and a bottle of wine, the same prize as the overall and age-group winners in the other events of the day. The only difference was the top three got two prints; this years print and last years print as well. I got last years print last year, but I got it in a nicer frame this year.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NuEOKIGHkSw/UHLtn9_8XsI/AAAAAAAADp8/xp8RvCIYZUU/s1600/VHM+2012+prize.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NuEOKIGHkSw/UHLtn9_8XsI/AAAAAAAADp8/xp8RvCIYZUU/s320/VHM+2012+prize.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Thanks Susan! </div>
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That wine didn't last long at home!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Vw5-5OczHs/UHLtkz6tzRI/AAAAAAAADp0/WaTNOLhCOQg/s1600/IMAG0712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Vw5-5OczHs/UHLtkz6tzRI/AAAAAAAADp0/WaTNOLhCOQg/s320/IMAG0712.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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Today, one day post-Ultra my legs hurt more than after any marathon I've done for a while. I think 800mg ibuprofen and some Vitamin P will do it!<br />
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-43419023448092365302012-10-06T13:25:00.000-03:002012-10-06T13:25:10.194-03:00Two down, four to go.<br />
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So here we are again, descending slowly into basket-case-ry, as the three-for-three, which morphed into a four-for-four, approaches rapidly.</div>
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In fact, it's six for six; six events in six weeks. Two weeks ago it was the Joseph Howe 160 km recreational ride. Not a race but a long club-run a la the Crest CC, with coffee and snacks or even lunch every 40 km. Nice. Last weekend, a complete change for the Rum Runners Relay, more in a moment. This weekend, currently sitting twenty hours to the start of the Valley ultra.</div>
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Rum Runners wasn't quite the way I wanted it. Instead of being with the team for the whole 12 hours, events conspired in a way that I was able to make my leg, leg #7, and only my leg. As I say, not the way I like to do either of the relays, but as the choice was to do this or not do it at all, this was the best alternative.</div>
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It was weird, waking up at 8 and knowing the relay had been on for 90 minutes already. I left town early to arrive at the start of my leg early. I think part of the early departure was that I was just so antsy, although I told myself it was because I didn't want to get caught up in relay traffic, be late for my leg and get a team penalty for bad parking. As it was, I was the first one there by about twenty miutes.</div>
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It felt pretty cold, with the rain and the wind. For the race it was going to be a tailwind, but for the warm-up it felt pretty miserable. I was glad not to be on the tech crew this year and deal with that for 12 hours straight.</div>
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As it was, I slowly stripped off, going from multiple layers to the racing order of shorts-and-singlet over the course of an hour; acclimatising after each layer came off before removing the next one. Still, I went for arm-warmers and a singlet at the start. I wasn't convinced i'd really need the arm-warmers when racing, but they gave the illusion of warmth, at least, at the start and they could come off easily if needed. Besides, we all know the one about being able to take it off if you have it but you can't put it on if you don't.</div>
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There's a picture of me at the start. <i>La belle </i>thinks I look mad. Come to think of it, <i>la belle</i> often thinks I look mad, often at her, when I'm really doing something else. I thought I had a greater range of facial expressions than Kristen Stewart, but apparently not. In this case I like to think it was focus. I remember shaking hands with a few of the runners before the start (Charles? Laura? Help me out here), which I don't think I'd do if was mad, so I'm pretty sure it was focus.</div>
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Our teams main rival in the drive for six consecutive relay wins was Oxford At Eight, OAE, and they brought their strongest team yet. The OAE guy is there in the blue on my right. I like to think he's looking a bit apprehensive while I look mad. Or focused. Or whatever.</div>
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I was on the front from the gun, with the OAE guy on my heels. I led the first kilometer at a good pace to get some room and see if he'd stay. He did. I pulled over after the first hill to let him come through and do his share of the pace-setting. Which he didn't.</div>
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So I dragged him over the hills.</div>
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With about two kilomters to go I was getting a bit annoyed with my passenger. In fact, I still don't know what he looks like because I never actually saw him on the leg. I could tell you what his foot-falls sound like but I don't know his face. So, I gave a little surge. Not enough to break away but enough to gap him briefly and see if he'd come back. Normally it takes three or four surges before the elastic snaps, but here all it took was one little jump and he was gone. </div>
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The Garmin says I did the last kilometer in 3:30, with an average of 3:42 for te whole thing. I think that comes into a 38 minute 10K if the course had been 700m longer. Cookie MacKily too this interesting shot of me just outside Chester, where my Gamin has me clocked at 3:30.</div>
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Note the excessive shoulder and hip rotation. Here's one in the eye for those who dispute the humans-evolved-as-distance-runners theory. The theory says that the ability to decouple the rotation of our shoulders (which themselves rotate to counterbalance the motion of the contralateral leg) from our heads allows us to run looking straight ahead without getting dizzy or unbalanced: a crucial trait for bipedal, running scavengers. Whereas there are many tasks in my life that a trained monkey could literally do, interestingly this most elemental of things - running in a straight line - is not one of them.</div>
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Next up, the Valley Ultra, This will be my 20th marathon, or should I say run-over-26-miles-with-a-dossard, and I'm not counting any other type of event. I don't include all the Sprint triathlons in my all-time 5K race count. One entry fee, one prize, one entry in the "done" column I say.</div>
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I'm all packed. Treating this more as a long training run; taking my Camelbak for<i> ad libitum </i>drinking, some salt tabs and a whole ton of Vega gels. Oh, and my iPod, I think it's going to be lonely out there.</div>
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-44893593190407584262012-09-25T21:17:00.000-03:002012-09-25T21:17:20.259-03:00Let's Talk About This Wetsuit Business.
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<i>I submitted this to the Triathlon Nova Scotia (TNS) newsletter a month or so back but I don't think it made the cut. Still, I think (IMHO) it has an important message. Feel free to repost etc etc.</i></div>
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This esrtwhile part of
the TA has been lucky enough to take a bit of a cross-country
triathlon trip recently and work events in three provinces, two
languages and interact with both Olympic-bound athletes and officials
as well as with the sport's grass-roots. None of these races has
been wet-suit legal. What was of interest to us was the response to
these wetsuit calls (in three provinces and two languages).
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The title is, verbatim,
a direct question asked to us by an age-grouper, together with “<i>why
don't you guys just follow the rules?</i>”. Let's look at these
statements.</div>
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“<i>Let's Talk About
This Wetsuit Business</i>”. We weren't sure here if the competitor
was trying to negotiate the no wet-suit ruling or cut us a deal.
There is no room to negotiate. We (the officials) don't make this up you know.
Instead, the wetsuit calls are regulated by the International
Triathlon Union (ITU) Competition Rules,which TNS has adopted. <span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">
These rules are here for your safety. </span></span>If the water is
too cold, you may get hypothermic, if it is too warm, you may
overheat. Just try using your wetsuit in a swimming pool! In
between these extremes lies the “wetsuits optional” butter-zone
we're mostly familiar with. Outside of these comfort zones, there
be monsters for some people. These rules are not kept secret by some
triple-headed guardian and available only to the initiated after
repeating some shibboleth. Rather they are available to download by
all at the ITU or Triathlon Canada websites.
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As for cut a deal, sure,
we'll cut you a deal. Fifty bucks gets you into the Competition
Jury. To protest a wetsuit ruling is going to cost you 30 minutes of
form-filling as well as the aforementioned $50, both of which you
will likely loose, with the $50 going to enrich the Junior
Development Team.</div>
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“<i>why don't you guys
just follow the rules?” </i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">This
made us laugh. We do follow the rules, those same rules we just
talked about. Those rules govern all triathlons from the highest to
the lowest. For example. the same rookie transition helmet mistake
penalty Paula Findlay made in London was the same rookie transition
helmet mistake penalty one of our own got in Guysborough and the
penalty was was managed in the same way. Here's the thing though.
There are two governing bodies for triathlon. The ITU and the World
Triathlon Corporation, or WTC, aka the Ironman people. They, WTC,
have their own rules. Mostly they are the same rules but with some
differences. These differences are mainly of the “</span></span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">you
say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">”
variety. But some are more significant. Such as the wetsuit rules.
Confusingly, many WTC events in North America are sanctioned by
TriCan or USAT and so follow the ITU rules. So, on race-morning before you start
harassing some poor, be-vested dude with a radio in their ear in the
language of your choice, check the logo on their vest. They are
following the rules, but they may not be the rules you think they're
following.</span></span></div>
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A quick word about those temperature maxima and minima. There are
tables and tables in the rules; a far cry from the days of the Race
Director just sticking his finger in the lake and thinking about it.
These max and min are different for long course and short course, for
able-bodied and and parathletes, for age-groupers and elites. So
just because you get to race-site for the Sprint and see long-course
or parathletes in 'suits doesn't mean you can wear one.
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As an athlete you should always be prepared for the eventuality of a
non-wetsuit swim. Check the history of the event. Historically, are
there wetsuits? As well as the obvious, no wetsuits, there are
other considerations. Can you swim in that T-shirt? What about your
dossard? Don't be in a panic twenty minutes before the start because
you just realized not only can you not wear your wetsuit but you
can't swim with your number safety-pinned to your cycling-jersey.
Invest in a number belt, bring a piece of string. Both will work!
Just like disc-wheels, which the TD can rule on depending on the
prevailing environmental conditions, the TD will make the wetsuit
call an hour before the event when you're pumping your wheels, not
when you're packing the car the day before. So be ready. You
wouldn't go to the Hypothermic Half with only shorts and a singlet and be surprised to find it too cold to use either,
so don't come to a triathlon with a rear-disc and a wetsuit and be
totally unprepared to not be able to use neither.</div>
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The British Army has a saying called the Seven P's; Proper Planning
and Preparation Prevents Painfully Poor Performance. Except Painfully is
usually replaced with something earthier. Same thing in triathlon.
You train long enough for it, don't let your day be upset by a
legitimate ruling that none-the-less puts a spanner in your works.
Plan ahead. Your training wheels and a piece of string should do it,
and the right mental attitude to make the switch and get your mind
back in the game.</div>
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-91785244389512719402012-09-08T12:21:00.000-03:002012-09-08T12:23:50.075-03:00The one where I look at lots of bikes<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8CWw9g8QZo/UEthmzhLoTI/AAAAAAAADnA/TXqE0VIrXm4/s1600/splash600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8CWw9g8QZo/UEthmzhLoTI/AAAAAAAADnA/TXqE0VIrXm4/s320/splash600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Just trying to have a quiet thirty minutes before leaving on another trip. This one is bicycle-related but not triathlon related. Perhaps this is what is contributing to my general feeling of unease. You see, practically every trip that has taken me out of HRM this year has been to officiate at a triathlon, or occasionally a running race. </div>
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Not this time. My rule-book, whistle and accreditation still sit on the shelf. My personal officiating kit sits in the storage-room where I chucked it after the Cobequid half and 10K. Hell, I haven't even packed a pen. OK, I'll go and pack a pen.</div>
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Feels weird. Kinda naked.</div>
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Instead, I'm off to the centre of the universe, aka Torona (I understand there's a 't' in there, but it's never used) to the Bicycle Trade Association of Canada's (BTAC) annual show, <a href="http://www.expocycle.ca/en/index.html">Expocycle</a>. At the behest of the shop indeed too! To spend two days with the owners and managers looking at bike stuff. It's hog heaven. A bit like Ulf giving me bike-check at the World Cup. Who? Me? Touch all this stuff? Sure thing boss....</div>
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I'm not sure what to expect. I feel like a newbie undergrad or post-grad going to their first conference. Of course, at scientific conferences you spend most of your time in the talks and maybe half an hour at the expo, talking to reps and trying to score some free <a href="http://eshop.eppendorfna.com/products/Eppendorf_Masterclear_Cap_Strip_real-time_PCR_Tube_Strip">Eppendorfs</a> or maybe a fridge-magnet. This, I think, will be the other way around; spend all our time at the expo and maybe take in a talk.</div>
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So basically, just like at your first conference where you feel a bit out of water ands literally follow your supervisor around everywhere but the bathroom, I will dp the same. Just follow the owners around, everywhere but the bathroom, and try not to break anything. BEsides,. when Mark asked me if I wanted to go the convo went like this</div>
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Mark (pouring coffee) <i>"What are you doing the 8th, 9th and 10th September""</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>"Nothing yet"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>"Want to go to BTAC?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>"Wow, cool, I mean, sure"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>"Great, you'll learn a lot. Just keep your mouth shut"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So there you have it, I have my instructions from the top: watch, listen, learn. Wish me luck.</div>
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AD</div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-10952298327062554542012-09-06T22:25:00.000-03:002012-09-06T22:25:44.615-03:00Cowadonga II<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fsnMrzQMYz8/UElMCHmCD6I/AAAAAAAADmQ/r0X9jJ6YRvM/s1600/P9301791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fsnMrzQMYz8/UElMCHmCD6I/AAAAAAAADmQ/r0X9jJ6YRvM/s320/P9301791.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was especially nice to watch the Vuelta a Espana this weekend as it took place in the Asturias, where <i>la belle</i> and I had been last year for World Duathlon champs and spent a week afterwards bumming around the Asturias, some of it on our bikes and some of it by car.</div>
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Yesterday's stage, stage 17, which saw Contador in red and Valverde move up to second (what this says about modern cycling I do not know) finished on Fuente De, We drove up there last year and took the cable car to the top. I'm pretty sure the stage finished at the bottom of the cable car run! Here's Moo at the top of the plateau;</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-668SBH6jfDQ/UElIuXe8FPI/AAAAAAAADk8/bQMbHlNpIjE/s1600/P9301732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-668SBH6jfDQ/UElIuXe8FPI/AAAAAAAADk8/bQMbHlNpIjE/s320/P9301732.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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and having a coffee waiting for the cable car on the way back. It felt a bit On Her Majesty's Secret Service being up there!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xd66VxoIaL0/UElIzrEuV6I/AAAAAAAADlE/tD8GVo5AErw/s1600/P9301742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xd66VxoIaL0/UElIzrEuV6I/AAAAAAAADlE/tD8GVo5AErw/s320/P9301742.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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and another one of one of Monster Factory's monsters, <a href="http://www.monsterfactory.net/bradley/">Bradley</a>, at the top of the cable car station.<br />
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The day before we'd stayed overnight at Potes, which is where Stage 17's last intermediate sprint was.<br />
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I'm pretty sure we inadvertently drove the last 50km of stage 17 last year; here is <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2012/09/gallery/graham-watson-gallery-vuelta-a-espana-stage-17_237595">Velonews</a>' picture of the break<br />
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and here is a picture of the Renault Sprinter we drove around the Asturias.<br />
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Looks like the same place. Pretty impressive place to hold a bike race. <br />
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I was a bit scared driving the Sprinter down that canyon, Unipublic took a whole race down there!</div>
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Stage 16 , the one that ended on the 24% pitches of Cuito Negro started in Gijon , the host town of the 2011 World Dus. I really liked Gijon as a city;</div>
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<i>La belle </i>liked the ice-cream</div>
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and Moo developed a taste for<i> cervesa y limon</i> after a long bike-ride!<br />
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and more ice-cream!</div>
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Stage 15 finished on Covadonga, <a href="http://socksnob.blogspot.ca/2011/12/cowadonga.html">which we rode last year also</a>, with our friend Raul. It was interesting to hear the cycling press talk about the climb. <a href="http://inrng.com/2012/09/vuelta-stage-15/">The Alpe d'Huez of the Vuelta</a>! Maybe not in pitch but in grandeur! Nevertheless, they made it sound pretty scary. I was glad to see<i> La Huesera</i> labeled not as a 10% pitch but a 15% pitch. Made me feel less bad about stopping, although <i>la belle</i> hasn't stopped mentioning it all week!</div>
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Ahh, Spain. Makes me want a holiday.</div>
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ADADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-73698804780423327102012-08-24T22:35:00.005-03:002012-08-24T22:35:58.697-03:00Marathon Deceit <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A couple of things to address today, given a couple of eyebrow raising (to me) responses to recent news articles surrounding our sports.</span></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>L'affaire Armstrong</i>.</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The obvious one. Wow, what a couple of days in the cycling media, with Lance Armstrong playing the martyr to the evil dragon of the USADA and losing the greater part of his cycling and triathlon<i> palmares</i> to essentially prove a point. Not that anyone in their right mind really believes this of course. The prevailing opinion seems to be it was either <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2012/08/news/commentary-armstrong-the-martyr-changes-the-conversation-by-refusing-arbitration_235712">lose his titles or his credibility</a>. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While I've yet to see a Phil n' Paul response I have seen fanboys playing a gallant rearguard action, usually deploying the cancer shield in short order. Let me say this about the cancer shield. I really don't see how one's philanthropic actions somehow cancel out one's misdeeds. In this instance or any other. There are plenty of ex-Catholic priests out there who I am sure were wonderful individuals, bringing spiritual succour to those in need. Unfortunately, there is the small matter of another type of homonymic succour to be dealt with. Regardless of the good these men played in their communities, their misdeeds were not in any way mitigated by these assorted good works. The same applies here. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">While we're on the subject of the cancer shield, I'm pretty sure that HWMNBN never "<i>trained competed while undergoing chemo</i>". And Livestrong/LAF doesn't, hasn't and won't fund actual cancer research, Sure, be a fan boy, but try and get your facts straight. If you don't, it makes it too easy.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What I'm most glad about is the meaning behind the lifetime ban. Remember, Ulrich, Basso, Millar, all the rest, all got two year band for using performance enhancing drugs (PEDS). Why not Armstrong? The anti-doping code allows a penalty of four years to life for the trafficking and administration of PEDS. In other words, the days of prosecuting some poor jobbing Euro-schmuck who was given the stuff then left, allowed and encouraged to take the fall on his own (<i>"I did it on my own", "my team was unaware", "I'm sorry for the shame it brought on my team/sponsors/family</i>") are over. Now it's the big guns, the facilitators, who are being prosecuted. Maybe it is this that will finally clean up cycling.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In the meantime. lets just asterisk all results from the late 90s to early 00s.</span></div>
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">L'affaire Heggie.</span></b></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Tyler Heggie was the 10 year old who ran the PEI Marathon last year. When faced with the same situation this year at Bluenose, with a ten year old girl entered, I suggested to the organisers that they not try to appeal to the girls parents reason (where does the apostrophe go there?) as the parents would likely think that instead of running a marathon being an unwise course of action for a ten year old, it would be the best thing since sliced bread. This general attitude is, unfortunately, correct. When informed that now 11 year old Tyler would not be allowed to run PEI this year the father's response was "poppycock". Although one suspects it was a bit earthier in the original.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When I posted this link on Facebook with the tag "some kids need to be protected from their parents" I was surprised at one response. This response suggested that I look up William (Bill) O. Roberts thoughts on the matter. So I did. Being a somewhat educated guy, my first stop was not Google, but PubMed. PubMed is an on-line library with all, and I mean all, the scientific abstracts you ever need (and some you don't) all searchable to all and for free. There is <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20606519">one study</a> from Roberts, WO on children running marathons and it relied on his experiences as Race Medical Director for the Twin Cities MArathon. His outcome measure was did the child end up in the Medical tent? No follow-up. This study appears to the basis for his Running Times article, Roberts WO (2008)"<a href="http://runningtimes.com/Article.aspx?ArticleID=13368">Children and Marathoning</a>".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This Running Times article is balanced out by Rice, S (2008) "<a href="http://runningtimes.com/Article.aspx?ArticleID=13367">Children and Marathoning: How Young Is Too Young?</a> which itself seems to be based on <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed?term=children%20marathon%20rice">Rice & Waniewski (2003)</a>. Instead of an retrospective cohort study observation from the RMD's chair, Rice & Waniewski is a well rounded evaluation of the literature. Round one to Rice I think.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I would be remiss to avoid quoting the American Academy of Pediatrics, where Overuse Injuries, Overtraining and Burnout In Child and Adolescent Athletes by <a href="http://pediatrics.aappublications.org/content/119/6/1242.full#ref-15">Brenner <i>et al</i></a> (Pediatrics 2007, 119(6); 1242-1245) states that "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #403838; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">Ultimately, there is no reason to disallow participation of a young athlete in a properly run marathon as long as the athlete enjoys the activity and is asymptomatic".</span> However, this is given in the context of "the <a href="http://pediatrics.aappublications.org/content/86/5/799.abstract?ijkey=52847f0d1b29b6392c642e309fb6757c6f8b60a5&keytype2=tf_ipsecsha">Risks of distance running for children</a> (Pediatrics 1990, 86; 799-800) which is a doom-laden account of the medical perils of distance running, and they define distance as anything over 30 minutes. Round two to Roberts, but on a technicality.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I also fall back on normative ethics, principally, if we have reason to believe that something is harmful, but have no evidence to support it because that evidence cannot be obtained, then we should not allow that something. I have dealt with this branch of ethics before: in my case it was to do with pain in animals. Pain, as a conscious construct, cannot be reported in animals because they cannot tell us they are in pan. This absence of self-reporting notwithstanding if we think something might be painful to an animal, <i>even if we do not have the ability to say that animal can even feel what we would call pain</i>, then we take measures to mitigate that pain.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The same here. There are many theoretical reasons why a child should not run a marathon. To conduct a study showing this would be unethical, at the very least. Can you imagine the abstract? "<i>In order to test the hypothesis that marathon running is deleterious for children under the age of fourteen, we recruited twenty untrained children. We trained ten to run a marathon and measured physiological and psychological parameters in response to training stress. A control group of ten age- and gender-matched children were left untrained.</i>". In laymans terms, we ran ten grade fives into the ground and compared them to ten grade fives playing Wii Sports Resorts. The Ethics Commitee is going to allow that, no questions. Apart from the obvious ones!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So, unfortunately, like Lance Armstrong's EPO levels, the answer will likely remain unknown. In the absence of conclusive, scholarly, peer-reviewed data, moral philosophy tells us that we must err on the side of caution. This is best summed up by Rice and Waniewski's conclusion that <i>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1a1a18;">Although it is conceivable that given proper biomechanics and anatomy, a quality progressive training program, and appropriate maturity and cognitive level, a long distance runner can have a positive experience from participating in marathons before 18 years of age, this special individual would be the exception and not the rule. Examples of such individuals do exist but serve to demonstrate that decisions rendered regarding participation are not designed with the “exception to the rule” as the critical parameter".</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">If we do not, where does this end? Ironman? Leadville (either the MTB race or the Ultrarun)? I suspect none of us would encourage our own children to do such a thing, so why should we encourage the children of others to do the same?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">AD</span></div>
ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-50630039595938088002012-07-25T22:34:00.002-03:002012-07-25T22:37:52.059-03:00Full Circle<div style="text-align: justify;">
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After a couple of hectic weeks; the Edmonton Triathlon Festical (World Cup/PATCO Paratri/National AG Sprint + Olympic) and Trimemphre (PATCO/CG Test Event/National LD Champs), neither of which are remotely close to home. and doing a commensurate amount of laundry I can finally sit down and write something. One thing comes to mind being at the Elite races. It doesn't matter how fit you are as an age-grouper (and I like to think I can hold my own), being in an Elite TZ or briefing makes you feel old, fat, slow and short! As much as I'd like to write about the races, and I'm sure I will, something else comes to mind tonight.</div>
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I had a pleasant ride along the Rails-To-Trails yesterday afternoon in the rain, which felt nice and refreshing after a couple of weeks baking in 30C sunshine in three timezones. Part of the trail reminded me a little of Hawksworth Woods in Horsforth, where I grew up (Horsforth, not the woods), and more specifically hanging out there on a Friday night after school with Peter and Ben and Helen and Vickie. Peter and Ben and I hung out there because the Woods were at the end of Ben's street. They were of course, also at the end of Vickie's street. Which was convenient, Vickie was, of course, my first girlfriend, something which may or may not have something to do with hanging out in Hawksworth Woods after school on a Friday night. </div>
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Such an 80s flashback might not have gone farther than a couple of kilometres worth of reminisces but it was reinforced by my iPod throwing up Crazy For You on my run tonight. <br />
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80s doomed.<br />
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This, of course, has me watching 80s teen movie Pretty In Pink tonight, but only because in some astonishing oversight (and absence from the two-for-$10 rack at HMV) I don't have Breakfast Club. Ah, Molly Ringwald. She's only a year older than me and as the line in the movie goes "<i>You know what an older women does for me?</i>" "<i>Yeah, changes your diapers</i>", which may be a kink too far. Victoria Pendleton, on the other hand, is ten years younger than me and whilst I wouldn't kick her out of bed for having a squeaky bottom bracket I suspect she may be a bit high maintenance. And not high maintenance in the sense of changing the chain every 1000 kilometers.</div>
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Plus Pretty In Pink has one of my favorite scenes ever, the Duckie/Otis/Trax Records scene<br />
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Surely the only song/lip-synch scene to even come close would be Scarlett Johanssen doing The Pretenders Brass In Pocket in Lost In Translation.<br />
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But one digresses,</div>
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Pretty In Pink was what, 1986? About two years after hanging out in Hawksworth Woods with Peter and Ben and hoping to see Vickie and Helen. Co-incidently, Son#1is now 14. If the Elites made me consider my advancing senescence, then the memories of being 14 and the summer holidays and the realization that my son is now 14 and it's the summer holidays have done me in for sure. </div>
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I realise that after fourteen years of controlling his life, that by stealth now I (and by extension we) do not any longer. If I was doing things my parents were unaware of at 14, I'm sure he is. Life has come full circle for me. If the goal of parenting, in a strictly Darwinian sense, is to raise your brood to a point of self-sufficiency, then I think it's mission accomplished. Sure, so Son#2 can microwave a mean curry but he still struggles with the real world. Son #1 is practically there already. So he struggles with math but when was the last time your life depending on a derivative? Maybe it's a tad too early to bring me my ice-floe but I think you should get some cables on it and start the tow, I'll be needing it soon enough. </div>
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In Pretty In Pink Iona wishes that we started old and got younger. I'm not sure that I would like to relive some of the experiences of the past 28 years between Hawksworth Woods and Halifax. Still, I wish him well as he embarks on his own journey and I hope that he will look back as fondly on the summer of 2012 as I do on the summer of 1984.</div>
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On that note, and sticking with the Pretty In Pink theme, depending on how you're feeling (fondly remembering prom or mawkishly contemplating your mortality) you may go out with OMD's <a href="http://youtu.be/EPmTGFg06zA">If You Leave</a> or The Association's <a href="http://youtu.be/JmcYb9epGps">Cherish</a>. It's your choice.....</div>
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AD</div>ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1626735835899080781.post-61555764943210322702012-07-11T22:46:00.001-03:002012-07-11T22:46:04.151-03:00Cramping my style<div style="text-align: justify;">
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So I got an attack of cramp yesterday on the Tuesday evening training run with the guys. Nothing too untoward since I'd had a pretty heavy day for me. Being my day off I'd headed out on the bike in the morning and ended up with just over 100 kms. There was no compelling reason to turn around so I just kept on trucking out. The ride was enlivened by some old dear pulling out in front of me at 60 kph down Fall River Road (always a nice way to kick-start your adrenal glands) and seeing Coca Cola labelled as a healthy choice at the Big Stop in Enfield. </div>
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Well I suppose this is Nova Scotia where chicken and bacon are commonly regarded as vegetables. </div>
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Got back, ate and drank pretty much anything I could get my hands on and then headed to meet the guys. I ended up doing about 10 miles. easy 4:30 pace given the heat and the 100 kms already in my legs, and got cramp about 500m from the end.</div>
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Not just a twinge, one of those show-stoppers. The cry in agony, drop-and-roll kind. I haven't had one of those for a while. </div>
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In fact, not since what was perhaps my most spectacular cramp at World Duathlon last year, a story I never shared with my three faithful readers. So here goes.</div>
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IT was an Olympic distance duathlon, 10 km run, 40 km bike and a 5 km run. I was guessing at 2:10 for my time, say a 45 minute R1, perhaps 85 minute bike, a sub-20 5 km to finish, chuck in a good 5 minutes of TZ. Yeah, I know, 85' for a 40km TT is pretty poor but I'm nowhere near the cyclist I used to be, and I wasn't that good to start with. Back in the day we used to time-trial at "evens" or 20 mph. This, I could do, or even better (but barely), from 10 to 100 miles. My PB for a 25 mile TT was a long 64' I think, and this was over 20 years ago. So there was no way I was going to go 65' at Worlds. I figured evens and any better than that would be a bonus. Under-promise and over-deliver I always say!</div>
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So the game-plan was to treat it like a marathon. After all, how many Bostons have been ruined in the first 20 minutes, streaking through the first 5K and blowing your three hour race within sight of the start-line? So, I thought I'd bide my time in R1, take it easy, run a 4 minute-per-k max to conserve my legs for the rest of it. After all, the bike course had two ascents of the <i>Alto d'Infanzon</i>; a 5 km drag which although nothing in real terms is quite a lot to Nova Scotians without daily access to the Cabot Trail to train over.</div>
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Plan A got tossed out of the window while we were still in the stadium. The heartbeat music played, we got all keyed up and blam, Eugene released us and double blam, I was at the back. I was trying to play it easy and they dropped me like third period French. I mean, I was at the damn back. Not a sight I"m used to. So I sucked it up and held Canada's end up and ran 3:47s for a 37 minute 10K instead. Admittedly a 37:59 but still a 37. I think my PB is 35 or 36. So it was pretty damn fast. I'm pretty sure when I ran that 36 I didn't have to bike and run again either.</div>
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The bike was fun. Up. Down. Flat. Repeat. Something for everyone. The second time up the Infanzon I got those twinges of cramp but what the hey? What could possibly go wrong?</div>
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Yeah, I should probably pay for those photos. I like the bike one.</div>
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Coming into T2 my legs were not happy. I considered a flying dismount but I wasn't sure I could go through all the motions without an ill-timed cramp disturbing my equilibrium and putting me in the barriers. </div>
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So I stopped and got off age-grouper style. That's when the cramp started to hit. I didn't so much run to my rack-spot as hobble slowly. Remember that advert for, I think cycling shoes from the 80s "<i>ride like the wind, don't walk like a duck</i>"? I was that guy. I wasn't pretty.</div>
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So I had the slowest T2 ever and headed out on R2. Wobbly T2 legs and cramps, I figured they'd work themselves out.</div>
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Except they didn't.</div>
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Five hundred metres in both quads and both hamstrings locked. Left and right. Completely.</div>
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I went down like a pole-axed bull.</div>
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Excruciating pain. Really.</div>
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One part of me looked down at my legs and thought "wow, cool, I'm <i>really</i> ripped". Science-geek. What can I say? The other part of me thought "fuck, I'm not going to finish this".</div>
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Now here's the thing. You know how over here in Canada it seems like every old-boy used to coach Timbits hockey or something? I guess in cycling-mad countries like Spain, every old boy used to run a juniors cycling team. So here I am. If grabbing the throat with both hands is the universal sign of chocking, lying on the ground clutching your leg with both hands is the universal sign of cramping. Most people were looking at me like I was the bull at the<i> Tercio de muerte</i>. One old boy walked over, grabbed my legs and started to manipulate them; up and down, a rough massage. After a couple of minutes he pulled me upright and sent me on my way.</div>
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My goodness, it worked. The next 4500m went by without even a twinge. The official time has me at a 23:16 5K. My Garmin was about 4 minutes off my clock-time. Most of that time was spent prone on the ground while Manuel, the erstwhile soigneur from Atletico Cyclismo de Gijon , got me back running. So I guess that was an 18 or 19 minute 5K. Not bad when you consider where I'd started from!</div>
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So that is my awesome cramp story. Much better than the time I cramped up in the 1990 Crest CC 100 Mile Reliability Ride and fell off in a ditch!<br />
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AD<br />
<br />ADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18030602052476212378noreply@blogger.com0