Danskin Triathlon - Lake Almaden, San Jose, CA
Sunday, July 9
.75 k swim, 20k bike, 5k run

I had thought that arriving at 6:45 for the race was plenty early
for setup, warmup, etc., but I hadn't counted on the largest turnout
*ever* for a Danskin event.  As I wheeled my bike into the
transition area, I was dismayed to see how closely packed all the
bikes were.

The racks were divvied up by age group, and as I eyed the 25-29
area, I felt absolutely hopeless.  Oh, but wait a second, there's
room right there!  I made a beeline for what appeared to be a tiny
opening; just as I began to rack my bike, somebody on the other side
of the transition area snow-fencing called out, "That space is
taken; see her wetsuit there?"  Oh.  I grumbled under my breath as I
renewed my search for transition space.  After having this same
scenario repeated twice more, I was thoroughly exasperated.
Finally, I said "To hell with it!" and headed for an entirely
different section of the transition area.  So I'm not 30-34; I'm
close enough, and *that's* where I'm racking my bike, dammit!

I wasn't the only one forced out of my age-group; those racks were
packed tighter than a New York subway at 8:30 am, so I didn't feel
too guilty for "moving up", so to speak.  The 30-34 section actually
had enough room that I was able to take an end space, so that was a
big plus.  I felt sorry for the folks who were just arriving,
though!  I set everything up, filled my water basin, and headed on
down to the lake.

The weather was perfect, just warm enough, but *nothing* like it had
been two weeks earlier for the San Jose International Tri.  Most
racers weren't bothering with wetsuits for this one.  Finding and
setting up my transition space had taken so long that I had precious
little time to get in the water and warm up, but I did what I could.

There were so many women in the 25-29 group that they split us into
two waves; I was in the second of these, the 4th or 5th wave
overall.  An in-water start in a wave of more than 100 women!  Well,
here goes!  I positioned myself toward the front and on the side
that would put me closest to the buoys as we swam the
counter-clockwise course.  I'm not usually one of the fastest
swimmers, but in such a big wave and with so many first-timers in
this particular race, I figured it was ok to get in the front this
time.

The countdown, and we're off!  Boy, I thought the San Jose start was
brutal!  This was amazing!  I felt like a tiny herring in the middle
of an enormous school of the critters.  Who says women aren't as
aggressive as men??  Geez!  We were pretty well packed together, and
there were enough of us of roughly similar ability that we stayed
together for the entire first half of the swim.  As we hit the first
turn buoy, we began overtaking weaker swimmers from previous waves.
I had this image in my head of clogged arteries and all the little
blood cells fighting to get through!  Swimmers were packed around
that turn buoy, and I was forced to swim wider than I would have
liked.

Beyond the buoy, things thinned out, but only a little.  The prior
wave had really strung out, and by now I was seeing just as many
pink caps as powder blue ones (my own wave).  A few purple ones were
starting to appear as well.  I knew I was going to have to swim
really hard to free myself from the crowd.  I thought, "This is only
a half-mile swim, by far the shortest one you've had to do this
season; just hammer!"  So I hammered!  I was feeling strong and had
gotten into a good rhythm.  The last half of the swim I just flew,
successfully dropping a number of girls who had stuck with me
through the first half.

As I exited the water, I glanced at my watch; it looked like 11
something!  I didn't waste too much time thinking about that, other
than to think, Wow!  When I got my final splits, though, my official
time for the swim was 13:23; I have yet to figure that out!  My
"crew" told me that they, too, saw my swim finish as 11 something,
so I dunno.  But at any rate, they informed me that I was about 10th
in my wave, so I'm satisfied with that.

Just as at the San Jose race, it was a long run to the transition
area.  My spot was on the uppper tier of a two-level parking lot,
separated by a few scrub bushes.  I leaped between the bushes in my
bare feet, thanking god that I neither tripped nor cut my feet!  I
heard that later they were telling people they weren't allowed to do
this; nothing had been said about this before the race, and no one
said anything to me as I raced through.  I had been unable to rack
my bike with the 25-29s on the lower tier anyway, so I already had
some distance to make up.  Well, I didn't give it a second thought
as I sprinted to my bike.

A quick transition and away I went!  As I exited the transition area
and turned left through the first intersection, I took a look at my
watch again; I can't remember for certain now whether it said 13
something or 14 something, but I was certain that I was well ahead
of schedule.

I spun in a medium gear to get my legs warmed up and allow my heart
rate to come down a bit from the swim.  It had hit 185 as I exited
the water, and it hovered around 180 for the first minute on the
bike.  Then I started to pick up my pace as it dropped down to about
171.  Hammertime!

The bike was mostly flat with one semi-hill of about 200-300 yards.
There was a slight uphill grade on a couple of sections, and a bit
of headwind.  Not quite enough roll out there for me to really
clobber it, but I did all right.  I passed dozens of women on
everything from 3 speeds to Kestrels with disc wheels and
Spinergies.

One woman rode by me and I stayed pretty close to her in the first 3
or 4 miles.  I was a horrified witness to a near-miss when some bozo
driver on a *very* wide street made a very *very* wide U-turn and
very nearly took this poor girl out!  I heard her *squeal* as she
swerved desperately and the brain-dead driver slammed on the brakes.
I was about 50 feet back and going 19 mph; had he hit her, I
probably would have plowed right into them both.  Thank heaven it
didn't happen.

That wasn't to be the end of the bad bike karma for this gal,
however; about a mile later, we hit the one hill on the course.
Halfway up, and again, about 50 feet in front of me, I saw her legs
stop rotating as her drive train locked up.  She tried desperately
to hold a track stand long enough to back her chain up on the cogs,
but she couldn't do it, and down she went.  Ouch!  I asked her if
she was ok as I rode by, and she said Yeah.  I offered a few words
of sympathy and continued on to crest the hill.

Screamed down the backside, and hammered on.  With about 4 miles to
go, who should catch me but this same gal!  Boy, now *she* must have
hammered!  She motivated me to really push the last couple miles,
and we roared into the transition area together.  I realized as I
racked my bike and yanked on my running shoes, "Hey, *nobody* passed
me on the bike!  *Nodbody*!"  Cycling is always my strongest leg,
but that was a first.  Psyche!

Out on the run.  I was feeling pretty good, checked my heart rate
and it was 180.  Ok, I thought, let it get down a little bit, let
your legs recover, and then let it go.  I let my HR get down to
about 172, and then started to pick up the pace.  It's only 3.1
miles, I told myself; you need to make it hurt a little, you can
push, it's ok.  I picked it up.

I passed one girl.  I passed another.  A few women passed me.  I
felt a little better, and picked it up a little more.  Not too many
women were passing me now.  I hit the water station and ran through
as I grabbed water.  Hit the turnaround, on my way back now.  Water
again, keep it moving.  I saw Janet run by on the way out and yelled
encouragement.  I saw Deb Smith a little way behind her and
hollered, "Go, Smitty!"

With about 1/2 mile to go, the return course went off on a rutted
dirt road that hurt like the devil on quads that had been hammering
for an hour.  Each rut made your entire leg reverberate as your foot
landed on it.  Ouch!  Lucky I didn't trip there.  Sorta reminded me
of the downhill at the end of the Wildflower run....yeah, Ouch!

I passed a gal who had passed me and now was suffering a nasty side
stitch.  I touched her shoulder as I went by and said, "Hang in
there!  Almost done!"

Back on the paved path, only about a quarter mile left.  I started
to speed up just a little; could hear the crowd as the finish area
neared, just around that corner, and a final sprint!  I burst over
the line and stopped my watch, just under an hour and 20 minutes.
Yeah!  I collapsed in a shady spot on the grass and got dowsed with
water by my faithful crew.  Boy, those sprint races may be short,
but they're intense!

Final time was 1:19:56, and I was really pleased to go under 1:20.
My previous Danskin best was 1:23:xx, so this was a real
improvement.  I placed 21st in my division of 212 women, yeah!  I
was 78th out of 790 individual finishers total, and my bike split
was the 25th fastest overall.

What pleased me most, though, was my improved run performance.  My
run split was 26:21, which made 8:30 per mile; that may not sound
like much to you "real" runners, but to someone who usually does
9:00 miles in tris, it's significant.  My running work is slowly
paying dividends, very encouraging!  And I think I was only passed
by about a dozen women this time, rather than 6 dozen.  I even
passed maybe half a dozen; I prefer these new ratios!

As usual, Danskin put on a great event, despite the overcrowded
transition area and the post-race food that ran out!  I think the
huge turnout caught them unprepared.  A healthy sign for the sport,
at least, and for women in the sport (no, I am *not* going to get
on that tired issue again!).  Only big problem I saw was the wobbly
bike racks.  I heard that there were at least 4 bike rack collapses,
ouch!  I shudder at the thought of having my bike in one of those.
Most of those disasters were in the 25-29 racks, too......

Say, why don't more races use the type of racks I spied at the ITU
World Cup race in Derry, Ireland?  The flat, on-the-ground type of
rack into which you simply drop your wheel, and there you are.

Anyway, another fun race.  Very inspiring, too, to see all the
first-timers, and all the people determined to finish who you might
never expect to see doing a triathlon.

OK, Alcatraz is next.  RSTers, please send good energy my way; I've
pulled a muscle in my lower back with just three weeks to go before
the Escape!  It's slowly improving, but I'm concerned about being
able to train sufficiently for this one, the biggest race of my
season.  Keeping my fingers crossed....

Cheers---

Tricia