American Zofingen 2013
This past Sunday I competed in the Chris G. Memorial / Am Zof duathlon up in upstate NY. The intent was to use the day as a glorified training session in preparation for Rev3 Quassy and IMUSA. I had zero expectations other than to make sure I crossed the finish line. Especially with the weather being as awful as it was. Hypothermia claimed victorious over a number athletes s the rain just wouldn't stop. Those who were able to finish couldn't have seen that finish line line come quick enough. Before I delve into the specifics of my day let me provide quick of a backdrop.
Many of you may or may not know John Withrow. He's the man responsible for getting me involved in this crazy sport a few years back. He's the reason I competed in IMLOU 2011 and the reason I'll race in Placid in a few months. I'm telling you, the man could sell ice to an Eskimo. He has embraced the role of pied piper rather well by pushing, prodding, cajoling, manipulating, and probably bribing a total of 65 people to race in 7 different IM's. I've known him for 7+ years and I still haven't figured out how he does it. The all to common phrase that many of these 65 IM'ers use is "Damn You Withrow". It's so widely used that one of our mutual friends had shirts made up that has the motto on the back. We wear them proudly.
With that said, my RR ...
It’s around 7:30 a.m. and I walk over to Withrow who’s jumping up and down like he literally has ants in his pants and I tell him “It’s too damn early for me to already be saying F*ckin’ Withrow.” He laughs it off. I’m serious.
To his delight, I’m sure; I think I tallied another 418 “F*ckin' Withrow’s” over the remainder of the day. That has to be a record.
I’ll spare you my race stats, because they’re not impressive, and I’ll just report on my race.
The highlights:
- I didn’t die. When friends who had done the race before heard I was racing in the middle distance course they always seemed to relay the same facial response. Picture someone walking into a room, smelling a nasty fart and then making that puckered lip, squinting eye look. Not only is the race a difficult one because of the elevation, but the weather added a layer of complexity that I could have done without. To quote Forest Gump: We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin' rain... and big ol' fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath.
- I saw another black person racing. It’s a running joke amongst my Tri friends that I’m the only dark skinned dude who does these types of races. So much so that Withrow and I even had a bet at some point that he couldn’t find another black guy amongst our group of 400+ strong of Endurance Nation athletes. I think the bet lasted well over a year before there was some resolution to our trade. Anyway, it’s nice to see I wasn’t the only one out there racing.
- I placed 3rd in my age group. Before I saw the official results I was convinced there was either A) only 3 people in my AG or 
they made a mistake. I say this because when I finished the race I distinctly asked the guy who was taking the timing chip off my ankle if I was the last one to finish. I still think they made a mistake, but whatever, they’re not getting their mug back.
- I want to do it again. Even if it did rain again next year, I’m convinced I could knock a healthy amount of time off what I posted this year. My transitions, my run times, my and my attention to detail – all aspects that can easily be cleaned up. While giving all due respect to the course, what I posted this year is clearly not representative of what I can bring to the table.
The lowlights:
- Wifey calls me an hour into my drive up to the race on Saturday and tells me I forgot A) my race wheels and my extra spare tubes and CO2 canisters … wonderful. Without really know what to say she ends the call with an “Ummmm … Good Luck.” Thanks Honey.
- I forgot my nutrition in the car. (Side note: Where was my head this weekend? It’s like this is the first time I’ve ever raced before, good Lord. It’s like I’m pregnant or something. Wait, I put shoes on before I left the house this morning, right?) Amongst the chaos of setting my transition area up in the steady drizzle I completely forgot to bring my nutrition with me from the car. I’m an idiot. I dealt with what they had on course, but I’ve never taken down hammer gels, so it was a bit of an adjustment.
- I (half) bonked. I felt fine until maybe half-way through the bike course when all of a sudden it was almost as if someone stuck a pin in me and any remaining energy I did have was completely zapped. It was odd as I’ve never had this feeling before and mentally I was still relatively cognizant. I say relatively because it took me at least a minute to put my shoes on and fix my laces on the third lap of the run. My mind was telling me to do one thing, but my body was in la la land.
- I zigged when I should have zagged. After one of the aid stations on the bike we were due to turn right at the next intersection. This wasn’t entirely clear as the aid station was about 100 yards before the turn and the arrows on the road had been washed away. I ended up going through the intersection about a quarter mile along with another two cyclists after a police officer rolls up and says “Uhhhh, I saw a bunch of other guys turn back there.” Nice.
- Being passed. This is probably my macho male ego speaking, but I hate being passed and conversely I take silly joy in passing other people (especially on the run). I felt like everyone and their mothers were zooming past me on the bike. My will was there, but I literally could not get my legs to turn over fast enough.
Contemplating life after one crazy race
A few final thoughts:
My eldest daughter is a dancer. She’s been dancing for as long as I can remember. This past season she competed with a local company which travels and competes vs. other teams around the state and this summer they’re all headed down to Disney for a few days to perform. It’s been quite the experience for her.
As much as she adores dance she’s been struggling with whether or not to continue next year. It’s an extremely strenuous practice with competitions on weekends. Layer in the demands of her first year of High School and she’s afraid it’ll all be too much. Last week she finally sat down and wrote out a list of pros vs. cons as far as what she should do.
I thought of her this weekend as I was on my second bike leg of a hilly (understatement of the year) Am Zof race. Following my daughters lead I made a mental pros vs. cons list of why it is I actually participate in this oh so wonderful sport.
Pros
- Great workout
- Racing for a great cause with friends on Team ReserveAid
- My kids laugh when at me when they see me in my ever so tight racing kit. It’s always good to make them smile even if it’s at my own expense.
- The culture of the sport is generally very supportive as other athletes seem to embrace your abilities. Always nice to hear a “good job” or “keep it up” from your fellow competition.
Cons
- Swimming. I don’t like it. It’s not relaxing to me and I have horrible reactions to chlorine, so training sessions are never fun.
- Some like the thrill of going fast on a bike. If I wanted to go fast I’d hop on an airplane or go ride on a roller coaster.
- Running. Treadmills are boring. Running outside in the elements can be a pain in the ass.
- I bargained with my wife that as long as I had a road bike and TT bike I wouldn’t own a motorcycle. As I mentioned above if I wanted to go fast, there are others ways to do so on two wheels.
- The damn sport is addicting and expensive. Who doesn’t want the latest and greatest new toy out there that could shave a few seconds off a 140.6 mile course?
- Starting to shave my legs again. There just seems to be something inherently wrong with this.
- Pain. I don’t like it. If I wanted to feel voluntary pain I’d go to the dentist more often. At least there’s a benefit to seeing the dentist.
In summary, it was nice to cross off Am Zof off of my list of must-do races. It’s a race not too many people do. Not because they don’t want to, but because they can’t. It’s not a race for newbie’s. With that said, it’s nice to be able to brush the dirt of my shoulder when telling someone I finished it even if my times weren’t stellar. I’m still relatively new to this sport, so to be pushed to the edge without completely breaking down and sh*tting myself was an important lesson to learn. To experience such a high level of discomfort was vital in my growth as a triathlete. It might seem trivial to the more polished athlete, but to me it’s an experience I’m proud of saying I was able to push through. It only took 418 “F*ckin’ Withrow’s”.
Comments
Oh....my....goodness! Good thing I didn't know about it beforehand or you would have heard a few f*ckin Withrows from me! I tell you, that sounds absolutely grueling. Bless your heart for living through it and writing to tell about it. Good work on both the race and the comical account. You are one amazing person and I love you so much! But after Lake Placid, stay away from Withrow, OK?!?
Gotta love her.
And for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure your mom will give me a big hug after IMUSA! I'm just not sure if it will be before or after she kicks me in da nutz...
Evan - congrats on the whole deal. I endorse your highlights, especially "I didn't die" juxtaposed with "I want to do this next year." The mugs/steins are a great touch, and you certainly should be proud of yours. Mine is sitting next to others I've won in races with 50 times as many participants, but it stands just as tall in my mind. Its not the numbers, but the mojo that counts, and this race has got it.
As to your second point - Yeah, I've often wondered what it is with triathlon, being basically a rich white guys' sport, but then I realise, that's what I am, so what should I expect? I did get passed on the third (or was it the second? who can remember in that drizzle) run loop, around mile 4 when the singletrack turns downhill into the slippery leaves and mucky clay, by a slim young lady who appeared East African - she the one you mean?
I think the absent mindedness you exhibited is simply a reflection of just how scary this race is reputed to be. Justifiably so.
Thinking already about next year..... (ok - a little nuts).... stupid crazy sport!
p.s. - I want of photo of your mother chasing JW at IMLP!
thanks for the kind comments. hope to see you all again next year (hopefully sooner!).