There is disarray in the House of Jones. Never have I been so humiliated and laughed at with such pleasure by my own family! Never did I think that my position as the alpha male, leader of the Jones pack, would be threatened. Yes, my world began to crumble 3 miles into the run portion of the Florida Challenge Triathlon, on September 25, 2000.
It all started a year ago, when I made my return to triathlons after a 10-year layoff. Kids and work made training impossible. But, 8 weeks prior to the 1999 Florida Challenge Triathlon, the postman delivered my inspiration; an invitation to my 20th high school reunion. What better way to get buff and fuel up with bragging ammunition than to train for and complete a half-ironman triathlon? Especially since I was a co-recipient of our cross-country team’s “golden brick” award for laziness (I just didn’t like running far back then). After a disastrous 1.2-mile swim, butt wrenching 56-mile bike, and cramp plagued 13.1-mile run I did complete the race that year. My performance was nothing to brag about, however. This year was to be Barry’s revenge.
I had done all the homework this year. Last year I swam on maybe 8 occasions before the race. This year I swam 2000 meters 4 times a week. Last year I had not done a bike ride of more that 30 miles. This year I rode 120 to 150 miles per week with several 60-mile rides. My running didn’t really change that much, 30 to 40 miles per week. But, the big twist this year was that Brenda, my loving wife, would be joining me, not as a spectator but as an adversary.
I suppose I brought it all on myself. I bought her a bike for Christmas two years ago. The idea was that she could ride with me on my long weekend rides and not gripe about my being gone all morning. She developed into a fairly strong cyclist. Then I made the brilliant statement, “Why don’t you give this triathlon thing a try?” Ever since her first race, I check the results with some hesitation. Even though I drag the old woman all over Brevard County on our training rides, she always rises to the occasion on race day. But, although she has come close, she has never beaten me in a race; not in the water, not on the bike, and certainly…certainly not on the run. I am the alpha male!
So, there we were on race morning, like the tortoise and the hare, standing on the shore of Lake Minneola. The Florida Challenge is also called “The Intimidator”. It is easy to see why when you are standing on the shore of the lake, looking out at the buoys anchored half a mile out. However, I didn’t feel as intimidated as last year. This confidence was surely a result of my increased swim experience over the past year. It was a very hot and humid morning as the horn sounded for the start of the first wave; there was no turning back now. Brenda’s age group started in the second wave and mine in the sixth. What that means is the tortoise started 20 minutes ahead of the hare.
For the first time, I actually felt good in the water. I was bumping and weaving in and out of other swimmers like I knew what I was doing. This time I didn’t feel like a runner trying to swim, I really felt like a swimmer. I only swallowed two gulps of lake water and at no time did I feel like the lifeguards were pointing at me and saying, “We’re going to have to pull that one out” or, “That one’s a runner, he’s not going to make it.” I completed the 1.2-mile swim in 35:08, or about 13 minutes better than last year. Brenda finished in 40:50. The hare takes the lead by over 5 minutes! After the swim-to-bike transition (running from the lake to the bike and putting on any bike specific clothes) the hare’s lead stretches to over 6 ½ minutes.
The hills start early and steep on the bike course. Two miles in I passed people walking their bikes up a hill and thought, “yeah,only 54 more miles to go!” I knew that the toughest hills were scattered throughout the first 35 miles and the last 21 miles were fairly flat. Speeds fluctuated from 7 to 40 mph in the first 35 miles and 18 to 24 mph in the final 21 miles. My plan was to go at a steady, comfortable pace and eat gels and drink as much fluids as I could hold. Last year I had problems with cramps in the final few miles of the bike and the entire 13.1 miles of the run. I thought that a lack of fluids was the cause, so this year on the bike, I drank like a fish. I passed quite a few riders with flat tires, but I finished the ride without any technical difficulties. I did ride through a few swarms of love bugs that left my legs peppered like the front of my van. I finished the bike leg in 2:52:44, or 17 minutes faster than last year. Brenda finished her ride in 3:01:59. The hare adds another 9 minutes to his lead. So, heading out on the run, the hare is at 3:30:20 and the tortoise is at 3:49:03. You will notice that the hare has almost made up the 20-minute head start that the tortoise was given.
The first 5 miles of the run course revisits the same tough hills that were ridden by bike, three and a half hours earlier. And what a difference three and a half hours makes! By now it was after 11 AM and the temperature had climbed to over 90 degrees. Still, I had to stay focused because the tortoise was out there in front of me somewhere. It was during the first mile of the run that I experienced two familiar things: one was the familiar backside of Brenda, and the other was the familiar pain of leg cramps.
After cresting a hill, I could see the tortoise about 50 meters ahead of me trudging away at her slow and steady run pace. I was steadily gaining on her, but I had to be careful not to go too fast. Whenever I picked the pace up too much, the cramps would kick in forcing me to stop and massage them out. Nevertheless, midway through the second mile, the hare caught the tortoise! “Victory is mine,”--cried the hare, “I am the greatest of all time…….aaaghhhhhh!” As I stopped and massaged my calf muscle the tortoise slowly pulled away. We regrouped at the 3-mile aid station, but soon separated again with my next cramp attack. The cramps were causing me to stop at least twice per mile to massage them out. I started thinking, “maybe this is psychological and I can overcome the cramps with the power of my mind.” I had to get my mind off the pain and onto something else. For situations such as this, I have a whole arsenal of upbeat classic rock tunes stored in my tiny little brain. I selected Carlos Santana and continued running to; “Got a black magic woman da doot doot doo da doo”. It was evident that I was losing my concentration when the lyrics changed to; “Chasing a black suited tortoise da doot doot doo da doo” (Brenda was wearing a black racing suit). I knew I had completely lost it when I found myself singing; “Got a cramp in my right calf da doot doot doo da doo”.
By the time I had reached mile 5, my slow and steady friend had faded into the distance. I must say she did look strong as she used an 8:53 mile pace to drop all those around her, as well as me. For the next 5 miles I continued running with intermittent massage breaks. After playing several miles of leapfrog with Jackie, a friend from Palm Beach, I gave in and ran with her. Talking seemed to stave off the leg cramps, and for a few miles I felt pretty good. This lasted until fellow SCR member Glen Reed passed us in the tenth mile. That reminded me that this was a race. I couldn’t let him go without a chase, especially since he started 10 minutes after me, so off I went. I could tell from his walk breaks that he was suffering from the heat just like me. This would have made for a chase scene suitable for a Hollywood movie, two grown men running at a blistering 9 minute pace only to stop and walk when the going got too tough. Cramps again got the best of me as I watched Glen finish a minute (actually 11 minutes) ahead of me, but the key word here is finish. It always seems that the longer the race, the more beautiful is the finish line. All that was left now was to find out how badly I was beaten by the tortoise. I had a run split of 2:03:32 (17 minutes slower than last year), or a humbling 9:26 mile pace. The slow and steady racing strategy of the tortoise clocked her in at 1:56:14, or a very respectful 8:53 mile pace. The tortoise won the run leg by over 7 minutes! She beat the hare at his own game!
Although she won the battle, the hare ended up winning the war. My overall finish time was 5:34:51 while Brenda, my black suited tortoise, finished in 5:45:16. I am sure my kids (and Brenda) will continue to tease me for quite some time about how Mom beat Dad by over 7 minutes in a half-marathon run. Power to all the tortoises out there!