Great North Triathlon - Sunday, August 20
Davis, CA

 1.2 k swim
 44 k bike
 10 k run

Skippy and I headed out for the "hinterlands" of Davis at about 8pm
Saturday night.  We reckoned once we were beyond Berkeley out on
Highway 80, we'd have a quiet cruise out to cow country.  Uh uh.
Seems like the Bay Area (and its ubiquitous traffic) will never stop
sprawling ever eastward.  We had *lots* of company all the way out
to Davis, and we arrived at the Motel 6 about 30' later than we'd
figured.

We pulled into the motel parking lot and were amazed to see the
place jam packed!  A Motel 6?  In Davis?  What the hell was going
on??  Thank god I'd made a reservation a couple of weeks ago and
guaranteed it for late check-in!  The California State Fair in
Sacramento was apparently the big attraction.  The lady at the desk
told me the place was completely full.  "It's a good thing you
guaranteed your room.  We had another triathlete come by here just
about an hour ago.  He was exhausted from driving, but we had to
turn him away."  Whew!

We didn't get to bed 'til close to midnight.  With the race starting
at 7 am, and having to do race-morning check-in, we needed to be out
at the race site by 5:45.  That meant getting up around 5:15...ugh!
Needless to say, sleep was minimal that night.

Race morning!  I was awake at 5:00 anyway, so I went ahead and got
up, started slathering on the sunblock and pulling on the lycra.
Skippy had the funniest look on her face when she looked up from
her bed.  "Well, you'd look funny too if you were awakened by the
sound of sunblock being slapped on!"  Ooops!  Sorry 'bout that,
Skip!  Well, it's time to get up, anyway.

I felt a bit sorry for our motel neighbors when I started pumping up
my tires.  I wanted to do it NOW rather than bothering with it at
the race site 'cause it really is a hassle with those valve
extenders for the Shamals.  You wouldn't believe how much noise you
can make at 5:30 am just pumping up a couple of bike tires.....

Finally, out to the race site at the Stonegate Country Club.  A
really beautiful morning, crystal clear and temperate.  We knew,
though, that it wouldn't remain temperate for long.  Temperatures
for Davis were predicted to hit the 100's.  Ouch!  Y'know, maybe
this 7 am start isn't such a bad thing after all...

As I was setting up my transition spot, the race announcer was
explaining how some maturity-challenged bozos had gotten their
jollies last night by trashing the transition-area setup, and the
race organizers had had to scramble to fix everything up in time for
the race start.  This both angered and saddened me.  Can we say,
"Get a life"?

Local RSTer Janet Fawl and her husband Steve found me and Skippy in
the transition area.  Janet wasn't racing today ---she was preparing
for Nationals--- but she and Steve had come out at this ungodly hour
just to cheer me on.  Really cool couple of people, I tell ya.  Not
to mention Janet is a genuine kick-butt triathlete.  Watch that girl
run!

Down to the lake we go.  Oooo, get a load of all that lovely squishy
duck doo in the grass...oh, yum!  Slip into the water and feel the
ooze between your toes...oh, lovely!  Mmmm, well, at least the
water's a nice temperature, if a tad on the warm side.  Wetsuits not
allowed, small wonder.

All the women are starting in the third wave, along with the relays.
It's an in-water start, and I hang on one of the buoys to conserve
energy before the gun goes off.  I've positioned myself on the left
side of the field, since we'll be swimming counterclockwise and
keeping the buoys on our left.  Getting a little cocky in my old
age, I put myself right up front.  So what if I'm only a mediocre
swimmer; this field isn't *that* big, no big deal...

Well, not really, but I do get a bit pummelled at the start;
however, it's really no more than usual.  I think I'm just getting
to the point where I feel more than capable of holding my own in
rough, chaotic swim starts, so why not go up front and duke it out?
And in this swim, I think I needed all the help I could get!

The swim loop here was long and narrow, traversing almost the entire
length of this tiny little lake.  The early morning sun was bright
and directly in everyone's faces at least half the time.  For a 3/4
mile swim, it somehow seemed to take forever!  After Alcatraz, I
figured any other swim would just be a piece of cake.  This swim was
no "Escape", but it held its own challenges for me.

I seemed to keep finding myself swimming off course, zigging and
zagging a little bit more than I liked.  I'm not sure just how bad
all this zigging was, but it makes a good excuse for why my time was
so bad:  21:xx, yuck!  At least I succeeded in catching a handful of
the guys from the first wave, so I know I wasn't *too* far off the
pace.

T1!  Running from the lake directly into the sun to the transition
area, I hear Janet, Steve, and Skippy all hollering, "Go Tricia!"  I
struggle to rip the swim cap from my head, but can't manage it in
time for the familiar "Click!" of Skippy's camera.  Oh, boy, another
bullet-head pic.  Not to mention the rosy morning light coloring my
body a brilliant lobster red--- Lovely!

Into the transition area!  Rinse those feet, yank on the socks, get
tangled up in your cleats....  Ugh!  Very slow transition, dang it!
Couldn't seem to get a lump out of the upper on one shoe, same thing
on the other one.  Rather than risk jamming out on the bike course
with cramped, painful feet, I take the time to smooth things out.
Boy, talk about slow.  However, I derive comfort from the sight of
so many other bikes still on my rack; maybe there's hope...

I run the bike out of the transition area and hop on to the sound of
enthusiastic cheering from my fan club.  Here we go, kid, on the
bike at last, and it's gonna be a flat one!  Go for it!

In the first couple hundred yards, I'm just behind one other woman
as we approach an intersection.  We see a volunteer waving his arm,
apparently directing us to make a right turn.  I follow the gal
ahead of me, then we hear the volunteer shouting, "No, no!  Go
straight here!" Aaaaarghgh!  I was just starting to get up a good
head of steam before I braked for that turn, dammit.  Come on, I've
got an awful lot of time to make up after that lousy swim, I don't
need this!  I straighten out and, in a fury, start putting the
hammer down...

Within less than a minute I've passed the woman ahead of me and am
cruising out on the open rural roads.  Did I mention that it's flat
out here?  It's *very* flat!  After the hills of the Presidio two
weeks ago, this is sheer heaven for a power cyclist like me.  In no
time at all I've left those who started the bike with me far behind;
methodically, patiently, I begin picking off those ahead.

I pass riders, both men and women, in ones and twos.  In between,
I enjoy long stretches of solitude.  The sun keeps its early morning
promise, pouring its warmth upon the fields and the roads and the
riders rolling through them.  The smells of the earth are delicious.

We ride through fields of corn, fig orchards, almond groves, and, to
my absolute delight, stretches of giant sunflowers.  It reminds me
of the Tour de France, the peloton streaming through emerald green
fields splashed with gaudy yellow flowers.  Simply gorgeous.  In the
distance, green and beige hills erupt from the flat valley floor,
lending a semblance of perspective to the wide open spaces here.

It's flat.  It's *real* flat.  The road surface for most of the bike
is a bit rough; not pot-holed and bumpy, just a little bit
wash-boardy.  It makes it tough to maintain an optimally efficient
spin in a big gear, so I talk myself down to my 53x17 and keep
repeating in my head, "Keep a spin going, don't blow yourself up,
keep spinning."  There's a sporadic headwind here and there, but
nothing really significant.  Once in a while the road surface
smooths out, and I drop it to the 15, increasing my speed to 24 or
25 mph.  Most of the time, however, I'm hovering between 20 and 22.

Whoops!  Wow, where'd he come from?!  A guy on a Softride blasts by
me-- he is *moving*!  Whew!  Well, don't worry about trying to catch
him, he's outta your league, babe.  Just concentrate on picking off
everyone else; I'm doing a fair bit of "blasting by" myself.  In the
middle miles of the bike, perhaps 5 or 6 guys pass me.  Other than
that, I'm the "passer" rather than the "passee" out here!

At about 20 miles, I find myself hovering about 20 feet back of the
last guy to pass me.  Kestrel, disk wheel, Camelbak; this guy's
serious.  We're hauling ass on a long straight road, heading
directly into the sun.  With my head down, I can just catch sight of
his shadow slanted directly toward me every now & then.  He's not
moving away from me, and we've just hit one of the smoother
stretches of road.  I start to close in...

I catch him just as he's passing another woman.  He surges past her,
and I continue surging past him.  Now it's *his* turn to say,
"Whoops!  Wow, where'd *she* come from??!" He probably figured he'd
dropped me like a bad habit 5 miles back.  In any case, he did NOT
like being passed, no sir!  Hmmm, have anything to do with me being
female?  Naw, couldn't be!  ;-) Well, anyway, he was not pleased,
and immediately made an effort to rectify the situation, putting it
into testosterone overdrive and pulling ahead once more.

I hadn't actually varied my pace from the time the road started to
smooth out, and now I simply maintained it.  Mr. Camelbak got maybe
15 feet ahead of me; there he remained until finally we approached a
turn in the course.  We both decelerated into the turn, but I
accelerated better coming out of it.  This time his testosterone
tank was empty; I spun gleefully away!

Another mile down the road and I'm disconcerted by a strong-looking
woman who catches and pulls just ahead of me.  "Wow!" I think.  "I'm
afraid I've met my match; here's my come-uppance..."  OK, I'm game;
I'll try and stay with her 'til I choke.

Ouch!  This gal doesn't just *look* strong.  Ok, breathe, stupid,
breathe!  Don't gear up, just keep that spin going.  Drink a little.

We approach a loose cluster of three more women, all of whom look
like they could blow my doors off.  "Well, that about wraps up
today's little ego trip!" I tell myself.  "No way I can lose *these*
girls; I'll be lucky if I manage to keep them in sight to the
transition area." We jockey around, taking care to avoid each
other's draft zones.  Wait a minute, I'm riding *through* them.  And
where'd my "come uppance" get to?  I swear I thought she'd kill me;
I guess she got bottled up back there.

Well, so now I'm *ahead* of that group, except for one gal riding
alongside me.  How the hell did that happen?  "Boy, you are really
strong!" she says.  "I don't know," I reply in a state of
bewilderment.  "I don't think it's gonna last!  And anyway, I'll pay
for it on the run.  Every single person I've passed on the bike will
skip by me and laugh.  See, you're already laughing!"  She is,
too.  We agree that this bike course is pure cake; she was just
coming off of the San Diego tri, and I, of course, had survived
Alcatraz two weeks prior.  Ah, yes, pure cake--- pancake, that is!

Here we go, into a right hand turn, I'm on the inside.  I accelerate
out, and concentrate on passing a couple of guys just ahead.
Settling back into my regular pace, I look about for my companion.
Hey, where'd she go??  Hey!  Well, dang--- I dropped her!  This is
unreal...

Only a couple more miles to go.  I keep the hammer down and pass
several more riders before finally rolling into the transition area.
My time was something like 1:15, but I don't remember for certain.
The course was a bit long; it was over 28 miles, and 44k is just
27.28 miles.  I averaged 22 mph, which doesn't really sound very
fast, but it can't have been too bad, considering how many folks I
was passing.

So, into the transition area!  Click out, run the bike to the rack,
off with the cleats, on with the running shoes.  Singlet, number
belt, hat, GU; Go!

Oh!

Yowzah!  Yep, here's where we pay the piper, m'dear.  This is going
to hurt.  Hey, there's Mr.  Camelbak just arriving on his bike.
Won't be long now, he'll be running me down and exacting his revenge
any minute.  *sigh* Well, that's ok; I consciously went extra hard
on the bike, choosing to hold nothing back for the run.  Damn the
torpedos, full speed ahead!  y'know.  Yeah, well, now the torpedos
are finding their mark, squarely in my quads and calfs.

Fortunately, like the bike, the run is mercifully flat, winding
through residential streets and recreational paths.  It's a two-lap
course, taking us back through the transition/finish area at the
midpoint to be rejuvenated by the cheers of the crowd before the
last 3.1 miles.

I begin the run with the usual stiff shuffle, squeezing GU down my
throat and grabbing water at the aid station.  The first two miles
are *really* tough; the day is heating up in earnest now, I'm
getting a bit of a side-stitch, and my stomach is feeling slightly
squirmy.  Add to this the steady stream of runners flying by me, and
it paints a pretty painful picture!

In the first mile, we run along a recreational path that borders a
block of back yards.  There's lots of shade here, thank god! and
lots of gorgeous flowering trees and shrubs.  The flowers are so
pretty and I'm feeling so pathetic, I very nearly stop to pick one
and stick it behind my ear in a gesture of defiance.  "Ha, I don't
need to run fast, I know how to stop and smell the flowers!
Competition means nothing to me!"  Well, a nice thought, but I
resist the temptation.  The idea puts a grin on my face, though, and
I continue my jog, amused by my own silliness.

Along with the shade and the flowers, this path offers another
advantage:  a built-in cheering section of kids playing in their
back yards.  One group stands by the path high-fiving every racer
who comes along, including me.  I hear one of them say, almost in
amazement, "Oh, look, it's a lady!" as I approach.  I guess there
haven't been too many women ahead of me yet, but they'll be by soon
enough!  The kids shout, "Howdy, Partner!" along with my high-five.
"Well, Howdy yourself!" I call back.

I actually pass one fellow who's walking.  "Cramping up?" I
sympathize as I run by and tap him on the shoulder.  "Yeah, in my
calf."  "Well, just keep goin'; maybe it'll loosen up.  Hang in
there!"

There's an aid station at about a mile and a half, after a long
shady stretch of tall trees bordering a field.  It's getting good
and hot now, so that aid station looks like heaven as I approach.
Water, Gatorade, and about 15 seconds of walking, and I feel a bit
better.  I pick it up again.  20 yards later, someone taps me on the
shoulder and runs by.  "It's loosening up!  Good job, keep going!"
It's my pal with the cramped calf.  "All right, go, dude!"  I cry.

Mile 3, and I'm approaching the finish area midpoint.  We run
through a narrow gate in a back entrance of the race site area.  As
I approach the gate, I hear rabid cheering:  "Go, Tricia!  Come on!"
Skippy, Janet, and Steve are lined up and waiting for me there.  I
grin as I run through and whine good-naturedly, "It's *HOT* out
here!"  "You're looking good, good job, keep it up!" they command.

Y'know, the only problem with looped run courses is that it's *SO*
tempting to just STOP the first time back at the finish area!  OK,
OK, I keep going...

Setting out once again from the transition/finish area, my stomach
is finally settled down, my side-stitch has disappeared, and my legs
feel looser.  I've got my second wind now, and, if I can just beat
the heat, I know I can finish.

I thank all the volunteers at each of the intersections as I run by.
Surprisingly, a lot of them are kids.  I make a point of talking to
these guys especially--- must be pretty boring to spend your
Saturday morning out on a street corner watching a bunch of
grown-ups run by.  And it's so hot, too!  They were all real
troopers, I tell ya.

Speaking of kids, here we are again on the backyard path.  And look!
They've set up their own little aid station!  I stop and accept a
Dixie Cup of water.  "Thanks, guys!"  I move on, finish my water,
and, as usual, toss the cup back over my shoulder.  I hear one of
the kids say, "Oh, what a litterbug!"  Oh, geez, major twinge of
guilt!  But wait--- another kid says, "No, that's how they do it."
Then, to me he calls out, "Don't worry, we'll pick it up, thank
you!"  Boy, nice kids; they were really conscientious, and I was
very impressed.  If anyone out there knows who they were, please
tell 'em they're way cool!

Four miles, and it's HOT.  I'm desperate to reach that shady stretch
of trees and the aid station.  Finally, the shade!  *whew*  My
greatest fear in a hot race is reaching an aid station and finding
it dry.  Memories of San Jose torment me.  Being so far back now, I
was worried.  I needn't have fretted--- there was plenty of fluid
this time 'round, and I made the most of it!

Finally, I'm in the last mile.  I pass the point where the first and
second loops split, relieved that I am, indeed in the second lap
this time.  There are still others on their first, so at least I'm
not way off the back.

That last half mile seems interminable.  More in the sun than the
shade, the twists and turns never seem to end.  Trot, trot, trot,
trot, trot....  At last, the finish area looms before me!  I succeed
in putting in a little kick for the last couple hundred yards, and
burst over the line with a leap and a grin.  Ouch!  Boy, that hurt!

Final time was 2:42:55, which put me 8th out of 16 in F 25-29 :-|.
Dang, if only I could learn to run!  I was 143rd overall out of 242
finishers.  Boy, didn't even make top half!  Oh, well, that's ok.  I
don't know what the splits were, but I sure would like to see where
I placed for the bike; hopefully, they'll have splits in the final
results, and my bike place will console me!

Overall winners were Jon Christiansen (my boat-mate at Alcatraz!)
and Missy Le Strange.  Unfortunately, I don't remember their times!

Lots of food and drink post-race.  Oh, and ice, blessed ice!!!  My
gratitude and appreciation to the race organizers!  I can't say
enough good things about them, they did an excellent job:
*Fantastic* courses, particularly with all the shade on the run;
plenty of fluid at all the aid stations, they didn't run out; great
volunteers everywhere; lots of food at the end, and lots of ice;
great "mini expo" at the finish area; excellent awards and raffle
prizes.

Overall, an enormously enjoyable event.  After the last several
really "big" races I've done (Alcatraz, Danskin, San Jose Tri,
etc.), this smaller "hometown" sort of race was a real pleasure.
With only 250 competitors, as opposed to 500 or more, the Great
North Tri felt much less intense.  Obviously, too, the smaller size
makes the organization much easier and more efficient; A Change of
Pace did a truly fantastic job.  Only the most minor complaints:
the duck doo in the lake was pretty gross, but what can you do?  No
big deal.  The T-shirts were kinda dull.  Otherwise, this race was
pretty darned perfect.

I'd highly recommend this event to anyone racing in Northern
California.  It's well worth the trip to Davis!

Keep Tri-in'!

Tricia
(Tri-Baby)