A Whole New World: IM 70.3 World’s

            As the finale to a great year in triathlon I competed in the Foster Grant Ironman World Championships 70.3 on Saturday November 14^th.  I had never competed in a World Championships at the 70.3 distance so this was a whole new experience for me. 

            The week leading up to the race was not optimal for a World Championships.  After a ten hour day of work on Tuesday, I followed it up by a fourteen hour work day on Wednesday.  From work I scrambled home with one hour to pack and eat before leaving at 9pm for my red eye flight overnight to Tampa, Florida.  Upon arrival in the Tampa Bay airport I collected the remains of my gate checked bag that had been pulverized by some sort of hammer or smashing device that the airlines must have installed to decrease luggage size.  As I opened up my bag I pulled out the almost unidentifiable remains of my bike helmet.  It had been crushed into thousands of pieces the size of packing peanuts and the plastic outer shell was now a flexible Frisbee.  My vitamin bottles were impacted as though beaten by a sledgehammer and the inside pockets of the bag were slashed as though a panther had taken to it with its claws.  Anything that had not been crushed in the bag was covered with a solid layer of electrolyte drink powder that had exploded from puncture wounds.  Come to find out my bag was not the only one to get attacked by the baggage monster.  Another non-English speaking Brazilian man also got his bike box smashed around a bit.  Luckily, Delta realized that the damages were a bit worse than general wear and tear and agreed to replace the damaged items. 

            From the Delta Customer Service counter we rushed to get on our shuttle and arrive in Clearwater in time for a 12pm TV interview with the NBC local affiliate.  From the interview we proceeded to pick up our bike from Tri Bike Transport and head to the athlete dinner at 6:30pm.  The dinner was held right on the beach which would have been perfect minus the lingering effects of a hurricane that was still lingering in the gulf and bringing cold gusty winds with it.  By dinners end everyone was huddling together as if at a winter campfire.  Even the Canadians were wining about being cold. 

            Friday rolled around and I was on the run from the get go.  From my 7am wakeup call until 2pm I was passed back and forth between the many media affiliates that were covering the race.  My training schedule was turned upside down and next thing I knew it was dinner time and I hadn’t even set foot on my bike.  Matt Miller and I quickly strapped on the shoes and got a 20minute spin in through the gusty winds and then put our bike in transition before hitting up a restaurant named Water Colours for dinner.  The food was good but I think a more appropriate name for the venue would be Garlic Colour because we would be sweating out garlic for weeks. 

            By 9pm I had finished preparing for the early morning wake-up call and I spent a short time conversing with agent Carrie Goldberg and friend Stephanie before calling it a night.  My alarm sounded at 4:30am in the morning but evidently my snoring served as a constant alarm for the others in the room.  If I wasn’t already woken up Matt Miller brought his two English bulldogs in to finish off the job.  The dog’s names are Diesel and Delilah but Delilah is also known as “fatty” due to her “large boned stature”. 

            We had a personal escort (Carrie Goldberg) to drop both blind duos off at the transition entrance.  As we entered transition we were treated to a special type of body marking that only Ironman can pull off.  Our race numbers were stamped like prisoners with big ink blotters.  I also continued the tradition that Matt Lieto taught me of the smiley face on the calf and then we went on our way.  As Matt and I prepared our bike we were surrounded by the NBC cameras as the race will be aired nationally in the coming months.   Also, they would know our every move as we were given GPS tracking devices so they could hone in on us from the helicopters and motorcycles. 

            After finishing our transition set up we attempted to find the alternate swim course we would do.  Due to the rough waters that the recent hurricane had churned up it was deemed too dangerous to swim on the Gulf side of Clearwater Beach.  Luckily, just across the street was the harbor where the yaughts of the wealthy were docked.  Also docked there was a giant pirate ship that served as the landmark for our swim exit.  Of course, there were complaints from some but there always are.  I on the other hand was super excited because I prefer calm water versus coming out sea sick.  The Paratriathletes would be starting in the first wave of the day which would also include the professional women.  Just five minutes behind were the professional men.  We would be constantly chased and hunted from the start. Among the field were the greatest triathletes in the world.  I had a goal of breaking 4hrs 20mins.  This would be nearly 50 minutes quicker than my previous 70.3 best but this was my day to shine. 

            Much to the approval I am sure of the mansion dwellers on the harbor the canon blasted off at 6:45am and we shot forward into the rat race of female pros.  Right off the bat the tether was yanked from Matt Miller’s waist and it dragged behind me.  I was now detached from my eyes (Matt) and would have to use splashes to direct my path.  This has become a recent trend so it wasn’t exactly the most devastating thing that could happen.  Matt recognized this and stayed very close to me and yelled commands to me when he could get a spare breath.  A few of the females got a lead off the front but we hung in there with the second pack as we rounded the turn buoy for the second half of the swim.  Half way back to shore we had a second encounter with the tether when another female swimmer decided to wrap the tether around herself and use me as her tug boat.  I wanted none of that game and so I slipped the tether off myself and left her in the dust.  This was yet another tether that would be sinking to the bottom of the sea.  I couldn’t be worrying about this because I had to keep myself up with the pack that was surging to the swim exit.  We managed to hang in with them and came out of the water in a blistering time of 25:39.  The new Xterra Vendetta wetsuit that I wore for the first time did wonders. 

            As we stripped our suits and ran to T1 I could hear the loud voice of Goldberg and some of the K Swiss peeps that lined the chute. Wetsuit strippers did the honors of removing our outer skin and we strapped on our aero helmets for the fast and furious 56-mile ride ahead.  I had borrowed Aussie Luke McKenzie’s boxing kangaroo helmet so we were sure to have a great ride. It took a few minutes to settle in to a good pace but we found out that we were in 12^th place overall and moving up quickly.  By mile 15 we had moved up to 3^rd place and Matt knew we were closing on returning champion Joanna Ziegar close not far up the road.  At mile 20 from out of nowhere came an army of male pros just absolutely blasting at well over 30mphs.  These guys were absolutely trucking and they formed a line that stretched for a quarter mile.  I was in utter shock at how fast they came tearing through but it didn’t take long before we decided it was our turn to make a statement.  From up in the captain’s seat Matt yelled back to me, “wouldn’t it be cool to take the lead in this race?”  I replied, “Heck yeah, let’s go for it.”  With all the camera crews, helicopters and race officials watching we blasted by the men’s field and into the lead.  It was absolutely crazy how many motorcycles were surrounding us.  Then the moment came.  The moment that I want to do away with for the future. The lead official pulled up on the motorcycle and motioned to Matt to pull off to the side.  We complied and he then proceeded to say, “You guys are messing up the men’s race.  I gotta have you drop back.”  Me being in my feisty competitive mode replied back with, “So you are basically saying you don’t want me to compete?”  His reply, “Just work with me here please.”  To not cause too much controversy we followed his instructions and let off the steam to fall back behind the line of men’s leaders.  For the next 10-15miles we laid off the fuel pedal and just savored the moment.  We were in between the first and second pack of male pro and still sitting in a nice position.  Miles 25-40 were also the fastest miles on the course.  There was a nice tailwind pushing us along the flat and straight stretch of Florida highway. 

            At mile 45 I must have been smacked across the face with the letters B-O-N-K because I began tossing and turning on the rear of the bike trying to find a position that I could create some power.  Griffen bikes are rigid and great at transferring force but they are also great at transmitting force straight up the back seat.  Not exactly the greatest feeling in the world and basically I was trying to hold on for the last 10miles until I could get off that bike.  The last miles had two long cosways to climb over before making the swooping turn back into transition.  I was glad to hear that Jamaica triathlon guide Andrew Staryckwicz was first off the bike for the second year in a row and K-Swissler Matty “Boom Boom” Reed had moved all the way into 3^rd place as we prepared for our run. 

            Miller had the official time on his watch and we came into transition at 2hr 38min, a sizzling pace.  Matt donned the new K Swiss K-Roos and I slipped n my American flag K-ona’s and were off on our run.  We had preplanned to slowly build into the run which I thought may take patience for a jack rabbit like myself.  My legs were uncharacteristically heavy to start the run, but I knew if I put one foot in front of the other sooner or later they would loosen up and I would get into a rhythm.  Unfortunately, right off the bat we had to climb the longer of the two cosways we would have to repeat four times.  This was the moment that the race changed purely into a mental event.  All I could do was use the energy from the crowd and continually tell myself “Smile through pain Aaron.” 

            The run consisted of two 10.5K loops where we ran over the two cosway hills lined with thousands of spectators and then into a windy neighborhood where we ran right by the house of another human that is known for wearing tight clothes, WWF legend Hulk Hogan. 

             By mile 3, I finally established the rhythm that would counterbalance the slower first few miles.  As we came across the cosway to complete lap one of two there was an obnoxious fan screaming, “Go Aaron, from the median.”  Matt mentioned to me he was holding up the Ironman program opened up to my story.  I chuckled to myself and then turned my head to yell, “Come to me after the race and I’ll sign it.”  Absolutely hilarious, all I have to say.  From there we returned to the huge crowds surrounding transition and I did my normal circus act giving high fives and throwing up my hands in excitement.  Again, I heard the loud mouth of Goldberg and then heard a few shout outs from the K-Swiss crew and pointed in the direction of their cheers.  I came around the first lap averaging a solid 7:30/mile pace.  This was not as quick as I hoped but was still very respectable. 

            By mile 9, it hit me for the third time in the race.  If you follow boxing rules 3 bonks and you’re out but I follow my own set of rules.  Three bonks to me means you better get your butt across that line quickly or you’re gonna filed under the DNF division.  Dumping water after water over my head and selfishly taking two sponges at each aid station I sloshed along.  My pace had slowed to 8:30/mile and I would have sworn that they just tarred the road because my shoes were sticking to the ground.  Matt kept encouraging me and informed me that I could accomplish my goal of 4:20 or under.  As we hit mile 11 fellow blind competitor Ryan Van Pret was just passing mile 8.  Right about that moment we also passed obnoxious super fan again on the Memorial Cosway.  This time he screamed, “I’m coming to the finish.”  I replied back, “you better get going because I’m headed straight there.”  At mile 12 we hit the motivation mat which read Goldberg’s personal message of “Go Scheidies go,” on the big screen for Matt to read to me.  I had nothing left but I knew I had a huge crowd awaiting and a big win to celebrate so we picked up the pace the last mile.  As we came off the cosway the NBC TV cameras pulled ahead of us on motorcycle getting our every move on film.  I zipped up my top to display the giant K Swiss shield and straightened out my Tri Bike Transport visor.  When we made the sweeping left hand turn onto the blue carpet Matt and I pumped our fists to the crowd and I jumped to slap the finishing arch as if to be a basketball player coming from the tunnel.  We crossed the line in 4:18:58.  I felt like complete cow dong and in complete paradise at the same time.  It’s a very strange but unique feeling if you ever have the opportunity. 

            As I was given the microphone to say few words to the crowd, all I could think about was how proud I was of Matt Miller for stepping up his game and training as though it was his own personal World Championships for the past 9 months.  The teamwork, accountability and effort that goes into guiding can only be described by those that have personally experienced it.  It wasn’t “me” that won, it was “we” that one!

            Proceeding  the exaltation of finishing the race I managed to raise my arms up just a few more times to give a couple high fives to Goldberg and K-Swiss PR girls Jen and Marianna before stumbling like a drunk over to the med tent.  I seem to have this issue with my temperature dropping to chilling levels prior to finishing long races.  For precautionary reasons and of course to get a little lov’in from the sweet medical staff I was escorted to the med tent for a short stay before resuming my party celebration. 

            Once I had returned from the med tent Diesel and Delilah (i.e. fatty) were there to give me a few congratulations of their own.  Also, Seattle training partner and ridiculously fast newcomer into the sport Stephanie Ewart crossed through the line in a time of 4:22 in only her 6th triathlon ever.  Talk about some natural talent.  It was also a little hint that I better get my butt moving or she is gonna beat me next year.  This was not time to think about next year yet.  This was the last race of a long season and there was no better way to celebrate than with a giant post race party at a place called Sheppard’s.  From there the details of Clearwater 2010 will conclude.  The rest is for your imagination to decide.  Until next year this is so long to a groundbreaking season and one that will hopefully only propel me farther towards breaking down barriers.

A Jamaican Train Wreck; “Yah Man”

Immediately after finishing up my talk at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center on Friday October 30^th I was quickly taken to the Orlando Airport to head to the land of reggae and Rasta, the island of Jamaica.  The trip marked my winnings from the NYC triathlon Underwear Run theme contest.  Part of the trip was an entry into the WATA Rose Hall Jamaica Triathlon taking place on Halloween.  My guide for the race would be fellow Big Ten triathlete Andrew Starykowicz. 

            I arrived on Friday around 4pm and luckily I met a nice Jamaican man on the plane that agreed to help me out in finding my ride.  Once we exited the airport doors we were bombarded by cab drivers salivating over the opportunity to land some prey.  I had no idea how I was going to find Jamaica Tours to pick me up but somehow the friendly native steered me past the persistent cab drivers and in the right direction.  I laughed though because they asked me if I was Mr. Chadez.  It took me a minute but I put two and two together and agreed that indeed this was me.  I jumped in the small tour bus and we drove off.  As we drove down the road, the driver proceeded to honk at everyone and then we randomly pulled off onto the shoulder and picked up some random locals.  At first I was confused whether I was on a metro bus or a tour bus but I quickly found out that this is the way they roll in Jamaica.  It wasn’t long before we pulled up to the gates of the RIU Montego Bay and Andrew was there to greet me.  We were on a tight timeline.  The race was the next morning and it was already 6pm.  There was one problem that was looming. 

We had not received any info on the race and could not find anything on the race website about packet pick up or bike check-in.  I proceeded to call the race director Rain Russell over and over but to no avail.  We began to put the Burley tandem together but ran into another major problem.  Matt West and I could not get off one of his pedals following our race in Australia.  The bike had not been ridden since and we had the task of trying any possible option of getting this thing off.  We didn’t have the exact sized pedal wrench. The thing was locked on so tight that the Jaws of Life would have struggled to prevail.  To tighten the fit of the two pieces Andrew tried everything from zip ties, electrical prongs, a fork, a knife and more.  Each of these was broken before putting a dent into this thing.  We even used some of our chemistry learning’s and put the crank arm in the freezer for a few hours to compress the size of the hole. This also failed.  Finally, Andrew proceeded to take apart the pedal leaving only a metal rod left.  We then called up the plumber at the resort and he brought up the largest wrench I have ever seen in my life.  If this thing couldn’t get it than we would be S-O-L.  Thankfully the mega-wrench was magical and we were in business. 

We finally heard back from Mr. Rayne Russell and at 12 midnight he stopped by the hotel to exchange our race packets for the bike.  Everything was on Jamaican time and since we didn’t really know what Jamaican time meant we were a little hesitant about the scheduled bus pick up in the morning but we said our prayers before bed and headed to bed for the 4hrs we had to sleep. 

            At 4:30am our wakeup call sounded. I quickly proceeded to have the most unusual pre race breakfast ever.  At dinner the night before I realized I had nothing to eat and grabbed the only semi-appropriate thing left, spring rolls. Not something I would do again nor would I recommend pre-race but that’s all I had so I just went with it. 

            As we got on the bus, we had no idea what to expect from this event.  We knew the race was going to be different but we were in for a bit of a treat.  Upon arrival at the race site, we were directed to the transition area which was only a tad larger than a 3 car garage.  Body marking was on your own and the race start time was a ball park estimate of 6:30am.   We also found out later there were no mount/dismount lines and riding through transition is totally acceptable.  I don’t even know if helmets were required.  Despite this there was a competitive field including multiple ITU professionals, the best of which Nicolas Becker from France.

            Twenty minutes prior to the projected start time we walked down the long hill to the race start.  A warm up wasn’t really necessary considering it was already 80deg and humidity through the roof. We still got into the ocean that resembled a local YMCA pool cranked up to 90deg to keep the older population happy.  At 6:30am, they announced the race would start in ten minutes and then they said the same at 6:40 as well.  The gun finally went off at 7am (6:30am Rasta time) and we jetted out towards the first buoy.  The course was a rectangular loop after a 200m swim out to the loop.  We settled into second position behind Becker right from the gun and kept this position until the end.  The entire swim though we had a pesky Egyptian pro sitting on our feet enjoying the enhanced draft sitting behind two people’s feet.  The swim felt descent considering I had had next to no sleep for the previous week and was fatigued from a large week of training.  We exited the water in a time of 21:40 and in 2^nd place with the Egyptian drafter bolting ahead briefly upon exit.  The transition involved a ¼ mile uphill run on a rock path.  The thick air and the salt in the water left me parched.

Transition one was a bit slower than we wanted as Andrews shoe strap had slipped through the loop but regardless we mounted the bike and headed up the winding hill leading to the highway road.  With a sweeping right hand turn onto the highway we expected to start blasting at high speeds but instead the timing chain on the bike randomly fell off and we had to stop.  After a short stop we continued cautiously, hoping for no more chain problems.  A few miles up we made a left hand turn into the unknown.  We had been told that there were a few big climbs on the course but living in Seattle, it takes a major hill to intimidate me.  As we made our way up the second climb it happened again.  The chain popped off for no apparent reason and this time the chain became tangled.  I took charge of the bike and ran it up the hill as Andrew proceeded to finangle the chain back into working condition.  At the top of the hill we mounted our bike and began descending down the backside of the hill.  The road began to look a little more third world like including increasing gravel, rocks and holes in the road.  We entered into an “S” turn and as we leaned to the right into the second turn Andrew spotted a T-shirt in the road.  It was too late to swerve around the road debris considering the bus-like nature of a tandem.  As any normal person would do, Andrew decided to roll right over it.  Unfortunately this is not what happened.  Only seconds later, the front wheel collapsed underneath us into a taco and we were both launched over the handle bars and onto the gravel lining the road just missing a giant boulder that would have doomed us both.  Andrew took the bulk of the impact considering that I used him as a cushion and landed on top of him.  Both of us sustained some nice road rash to serve as evidence of the encounter.  As we picked ourselves up Andrew pulled out the t-shirt lodged in the remains of our front wheel.  The bike was nowhere near ridable and our chances of winning the race were now over.  Now the primary focus was somehow getting bike support and cleaning up the bloody abrasions from our backsides. 

Ten minutes later, a truck picked us up and took us to transition 2 which would be our only possible hope for medical attention.  Upon arrival there was no medical staff available and Andrew proceeded to expose his back side in a full moon in order to clean the dirt from the wounds.  I told him he should at least stand behind a tree but he just continued to walk around with his bum hanging out.

            Once we halfway cleaned our wounds, we decided our day wasn’t over and we would head out on the run.  We waited for Becher (the leader) to start his run and then we proceeded to try and catch him.  We were both a little sore and wounded but as they say in boxing, “You can get knocked down, but never get knocked out.” 

            The run course was a roller coaster ride through the Rose Hall golf course.  This course may not have had a straight away on the entire 10K.  Regardless, we were making up time on Becker and decreased his lead from 1-minute to 30sec by the 5K mark.  Just after the 5K mark the run turned into a resemblance of the Escape from Alcatraz run course.  The trail became very steep and seemed to never end. I had to push with my hands on quads just to keep moving forward.  Lactic acid had oversaturated my muscles and my pace lowered substantially.  Mile 4 to 5 could not have been correctly marked because if it was we would have run a 14 minute mile.  Becker gained back 15seconds as we headed into the last turn around before climbing the very steep 200m hill to the finish in front of the Rose Hall Hilton Resort.  My legs were toast!  The up and down pounding of this ridiculously challenging and probably a bit long run course had done me in.   We ended up running right around 40minutes for the run that was probably a bit closer to 6.4miles.  Our goal following the bike accident was to finish and that goal was accomplished.  It was tough accepting the fact we had a good shot at the win without all of the chaos but there was nothing we could do.

            After the race, we chatted with some of local Jamaican’s before picking up the scraps of our bike and loading them in the bus back to the RIU.  Since it was Halloween, there was a post race Halloween party later that night.  We were told a bus would pick us up at 7pm.  We decided we would wait until at least 7:30pm for the bus just in case it was on Jamaica time.  Come 8pm the bus was still nonexistent.  The RIU was having special Halloween entertainment so we made the convenient decision to attend. 

            The opening act of the show was definitely a spooky display of contortionism.  This guy managed to balance his head on a chair that was balanced on three glass bottles.  From this position he somehow brought his legs all the way behind his back to pick up a hat that two volunteers were holding.  He then used his feet to put the hat on his head.  It was the most sick and amazing act by a contortionist I had ever seen. 

            The following act was a Halloween rendition of Michael Jackson.  This act was also very good but nothing beats the real King of Pop.  To finish the night, the entertainment crew got the crowd involved with a song they like to call Reggae Night.  Nothing more fitting than to end the night with some local flavor! 

The remainder of our stay in Jamaica was meant for rest and relaxation. We did however go for a few runs despite feeling as though we had been hit by a train.  Each and every run along the beach included a man on a row boat hovering just off shore and continuously attempting to get us over to talk to him.  We always told him we didn’t want any of his goods but he seemed to never take no for an answer.  On the way back to our room we stopped to enjoy some of the Jerk Man’s amazing cooking.  The Jerk Man had a little hut on the beach where he cooked up Jamaican jerk chicken and sausage.  He was known from all around to have the best jerk chicken in the area.  After taste testing some of his good, I would have to agree with these high honors.

The following day was Sunday and we decided we would venture off the resort and see what “real Jamaica” was like.  The cab driver dropped us off at City Center and we proceeded to walk cautiously through the streets of Montego Bay.  Again, the cab drivers all wanted to give us a ride. Comically, one of them yelled “No man.  You shouldn’t walk.  It’s bad for you to walk.”  Another man yelled from about 400m away to get our attention and then began walking towards us until pooping out after 100m.  Along the streets were locals with big hatchet knives cutting sugar cane to sell.  We figured it was probably time to walk the mile toward the Hip Strip where our cabbie would pick us up.  As we did so we walked by a man (David) sitting along the road.  He noticed us from the RIU resort where he worked.  He was also wearing a K-Swiss shirt which immediately made him a cool Jamaican.  He warned us that the road ahead was very dangerous and that he would not recommend walking on it.  We told him we were just out to see what Jamaica is really like.  Resorts give a distorted view.  He said, “Yah man, I will show you real Jamaica, Yah man.”

We proceeded to follow him through all of the sites of Montego Bay.  He explained the history of the two witches (Rose and Annie) which were a large part of the culture of the city.  We went to the grave of the good witch Rose as well as the city court where people were publically hung many years ago.  We walked by the market where there was a Jamaican bobsled along the curb.  Then we headed into the Bob Marley bar where David sang some of his own reggae music.  To end the tour we jumped in a cab and headed to a nearby village to see how the majority of Jamaicans grow up.  In the village was a village pub which was nothing like the states.  To best describe this bar, I would say it was the dive of dive bars.  Regardless, it was a culturing experience.  Following a drink at the village pub we hopped back in the cab and paid off the cabbie to take us back to the RIU.  We were a little hesitant as to whether we would be taken directly to the RIU.  Thankfully, the cabbie did not stray from the path back to the resort and before long we were safe and sound at the resort.  The following day marked the end of our Jamaican adventure.  If nothing else, we return from Jamaica with great stories to tell.  Yah Man!