The 30th Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Race Prep

I've done this race once before, in 2002. It is an iconic event. The race is high in every poll of best and most popular triathlons. Plus, being held in San Francisco, I get bonus spouse points for making the trip into a mini-vacation.

It is also unique in that it does not heavily favor one leg over the other two. All three are hard, and all three are a significant part of the total racing time. The swim is 1.5 miles from Alcatraz Island to the marina, in tricky currents and cold water. The bike is 18 miles up and down the steep San Francisco hills. And the 8 mile run includes major climbs, a beach run, and the infamous sand ladder.

Swim prep included a new wetsuit. My old suit dated back to just prior to the previous time I'd done this race and it was showing its age, so it was time. Fortunately, Gail had a couple of nice suits left over from Adrenaline Tri-Sport, which closed early this year, and one was my size. Gordo loaned me a pair of swim socks, and I already had a neoprene cap. I bought new goggles a half diopter stronger than my old ones. (I wear prescription goggles.)

I brought all the gear to the pool for a test swim. Strangely, it seemed I was actually swimming slower. I noticed that the tops of the swim socks were fluttering around, and they even started falling off while I was swimming. This was going to be a problem.

Since they were size "large," I bought a pair of size "small" and brought them to the pool on another day. They filled with water and acted as anchors. When I took them off I sped up considerably.

No other similar products were for sale in the Boulder area, and I was out of options. I decided to bring all the socks to San Francisco and wing it.

Getting ready for the run was also a challenge. I'd been getting a bit of patellar tendinitis ramping up my training for the season. I backed off a bit, got a neoprene knee sleeve, and it seemed to help. It didn't quite go away, but it was definitely under control. Starting about three weeks out from race day, Gordo had me do some challenging workouts at Wonderland Lake, including some race pace climbs up the big hill at the northwest corner.

The bike was the biggest logistical problem. We considered driving out to avoid the hassle of flying with the bike. In the end, with cheap airfares I decided to try out TriBike Transport. I'd drop my bike off at the shop on Wednesday before the race, and they'd put it on a truck with hundreds of others and magically get it to the race site in one piece by race day.

I also scheduled my bike for its annual spring tune-up a few weeks out. But this was complicated by the shop not having the parts. They didn't have my chain rings, so I had to bring the bike back in a week. Then, while working on it they decided the hubs needed to be rebuilt, but they didn't have the bearings, so I had to come back again. And the bearings weren't in until two days before I had to drop my bike off for shipment, so I debated whether it would be worth the risk to do this repair without more time to test it out. (I did.)

The bike transport was also stressful. The Wednesday drop-off was changed to Tuesday. Then it was Monday. Then it was Saturday at noon, more than a week before the race. Although this method of transport is convenient, for those who stress about having their bikes for the most time before and after the race I wouldn't recommend it.

In prep for the hilly ride in San Francisco, Gordo had me doing repeats up the back of Olde Stage. This hill is steeper than any on the race, and I did my fastest ascent time ever in these workouts, so I felt as ready as I was going to be.

Starting as soon as long range forecasts were available, I began to stress about the weather. The predicted weather looked nice, in the 60s or 70s, but severe winds (50+ MPH gusts) were also forecast, depending on which day I looked and on which website.

Pre-Race

We flew to SF without incident, and found our hotel, about 2 miles from the race site at Marina Green. Of course, given we were in San Francisco, it was all steep hills, so there was more walking (and riding, once I was reunited with my bike) up and down these steep city climbs than was probably advisable in the days just before a race. (We didn't rent a car.)

I attended the pre-race advice meeting at Sports Basement. While I was there, I looked at their swim booties. They sold a different brand, Orca, and it was thicker (warmer), and had a Velcro closure, which I hoped would solve my problem with them filling with water and turning into anchors.

On the day before the race, my brother and cousin and their families came into the city to visit. It was stressful fitting that in while trying to work around packet pickup and workouts and trying to rest, but it was the only day that would work for them. So, as a condition of the trip I had them drive me to Aquatic Park for my test swim in the bay. (The kids loved the beach, and my brother loved the chance to take an embarrassing picture on his camera of me changing into my wetsuit.)

The gear was reasonably successful. My feet were warm, the new wetsuit was warm, and my ears were warm. Only my hands and face were cold, and I got in one 10 minute lap. The booties did fill with water and probably slowed me down a bit, but not too bad.

The clincher on the bootie decision was when I discovered that Gail had dropped out after the swim at Ironman St. George that very day because of hypothermia. Better to lose a little time on the swim than risk major problems from the cold.

Race Day

Alcatraz has one of the more complicated race days of any triathlon because of its point-to-point swim. I set the alarm for 3:00 AM but woke up early to start my routine. When I race at home I like to get on the treadmill at a very easy speed for as long as it takes to get my insides moving and make sure I poop before the race instead of having to go during. Here, a jog around the neighborhood would have to do. Then breakfast, the last bit of getting my gear together, bathroom again, and ready to go.

I left on my bike for the race start. It was just before 5:00, right on schedule. But it was still dark, and I wished I'd brought my headlamp. A little later, I discovered it would also have been useful when setting up transition. There were three other competitors who had been staying at the same hotel waiting outside for a van to take them to the race, and that van was already 20 minutes late. I offered to show them the biking route to the race site, but they opted to wait and try to call the van company.

Rack spots in transition were pre-assigned, and I had a great one. It was at the very end of a row, close to swim in/run out but far from bike in/out. Not sure what the weather would be like when I got out of the water, I left arm warmers, gloves, and a light jacket next to my stuff. I left transition with two bags – one swim exit bag with the shoes I would wear from the swim exit back to transition, and the bag with the swim gear I would put on in the boat. A quick jog, another visit to the porta-potty, dropped my swim exit bag at the truck, and got on the bus to the pier.

At the pier, I got my timing chip, another short jog, another visit to the potty, then got on the boat. Finally underway, I ate my banana and Clif bar, and finally felt the desired movement inside. The restroom line was the longest of the day, but the boat ride was an hour so there was plenty of time to finish my necessary business.

I got on my wetsuit and other swim gear, and as the boat did a celebratory lap around the island I left my clothes bag behind and went to the window to get a good look at the shore and pick out the landmarks I'd be sighting on. When the horn went off, I watched the pros start, and they took off straight towards the swim finish at the St. Francis Yacht Club. The race director had repeatedly warned us age groupers not to do that because of the strong current, but the pros obviously knew what they were doing.

The pros and younger competitors had been organized on the lower level of the boat, and we older athletes were on the upper level. That meant that even before I could get downstairs many swimmers were already in the water. There were three doors at which people were entering the water, but the boat was oriented so that one door was closer to shore, and everyone wanted to go out that door. Knowing that official times were based on the timing mat at the door, I figured it was better to wait a bit longer on board and have a slightly shorter swim.

I finally got up to the front of the line, ready to go. A race volunteer suggested I go to the rear door. I looked down and saw I'd been standing on the timing mat, and had already lost a few seconds. I told the volunteer I was going in, looked to make sure the water was clear, and jumped in.

The Swim

I went a bit too deep, but quickly surfaced and started swimming. With the adrenaline I barely noticed the cold. I immediately found myself in a big group, which was swimming in the conservative direction rather than the direct line taken by the pros. I'd like to go a bit more aggressive, but I concentrated on passing other swimmers and trying to find clear water.

The water was perfectly smooth. Visibility was perfect. I was really enjoying my new, stronger goggles. All of this made sighting much better than I was used to. I kept up as good of a pace as I could, given that I kept running into groups of swimmers and having to manipulate past them. I was not confident enough to just go straight to the swim finish because of the current, but I tried to keep fairly aggressive and aimed just short of the finish.

The last part of the swim was as hectic as the rest of the course. I ran into more swimmers. Swimming close to me, someone grabbed my arm. I felt someone on my feet and thought they were going to pull one of my booties off. I kicked harder and swam away. Finally I got to shore. I stood up and looked at my watch. It said 29 minutes. Certainly the quickest I'd ever swum that distance. It must have been some amazing current.

Here's where I was really glad I had worn the booties. My feet running up to the swim exit area were warm, not numb. I didn't worry about the gravel and rocks I was running on. I found my bag, took off my wetsuit, cap and goggles. I had considered doing the run to the transition area, about half a mile, in the swim booties. But they were totally full of water, and I figured it would be quicker to slip on the pool deck shoes I had left in the bag. I crammed all my stuff in the bag (or thought I did) and started the short run.

It actually felt pretty good. I remember doing this same swim eight years earlier, and feeling that same euphoria at the end of the swim. The air temperature was pleasant, and I was passing more people on the run. Back in transition, I put on my shades and helmet, changed my shoes, and took my bike out. None of the cool weather gear would be needed today.

The Bike

If the swim course had been crowded, the bike course was even more so. The course is out and back, and starts out with about two miles flat, and is up and down the entire rest of the course, until the end. The entire bike leg was spent maneuvering around other riders. Because of the hills, drafting was not an issue as a rule violation, but blocking (people riding on the yellow line) and passing on the right were certainly problems.

From 8 years earlier, I remembered that the first climb happens suddenly when you go around a sharp corner, so I geared down early to avoid the embarrassment of coming to a dead stop. Then I worked on the hills and the crowds for the rest of the 18 mile ride.

On the climbs, I was able to take advantage of my Colorado training, and work my way past the other riders. But I never got into that groove – with the bad road conditions (budget problems in California) and the crowds, my descents were cautious, not what I needed to hammer that course.

We got through the worst of the hills going out, and rode along the coast. This stretch would have been truly dangerous if the wind had been high, but luckily there was only a light breeze. We rode out and back through Golden Gate Park, where they had promised new asphalt, but still there was lots of bad road.

Then we reversed and came back. The climbs are actually a bit harder in this direction, which was okay with me, as that was where I was able to pass people. I saw Klaus going out as I was riding back. On the final flat stretch I drank as much of my remaining Accelerade as I could. Back into transition, racked my bike, changed my shoes, ditched the helmet, and grabbed my race number belt. My time for the 18 miles was over an hour, a bit depressing, but hopefully that meant I had something left for the run.

The Run

The run course is also out and back. In fact, at one point, the run from the swim exit, the bike course in both directions, and the run course in both directions are all next to each other. It makes it easy to see your friends (or rivals), but makes racing trickier. I saw Klaus on his final stretch of the ride at about two miles into my run.

The run starts out with about two miles flat. I held a reasonable pace of about 7:30 or so. At about a mile I saw Hunter Kemper coming back in. He was close to his decisive victory over Bevan Docherty and Andy Potts, and would eventually best me by about fifty minutes.

At 2 miles, the course starts up hill. First it goes up some stairs then onto a trail. For most of the course, the runners are coming back on the same narrow trail, so it becomes a bit tricky, and passing is sometimes a matter of timing. This climb goes on and on. You get to the Golden Gate Bridge and think you are at the top, but you keep going. I passed Charles coming down on my way up, but he didn't see me as he was concentrating on the footing on the descent. In all, there is about 300 feet of gain over about a mile. It's quite scenic, but I was thinking more about my legs and when I was going to reach the top. That mile was probably closer to 10 minutes.

Finally I reached the top and started the descent toward Baker Beach. Fortunately, I recovered well from the climb and was able to use the downhill to pick up some speed. Part of the descent is on the road, and the runners coming back were on the trail next to the road, so conditions were good to let loose. Then I reached the stairs down to the beach, which slowed me down, and the beach itself.

The last bit of the run out is along Baker Beach. The trick is finding the line in the sand that was neither too wet (the tide was coming in) nor too dry to get good traction. When I saw the turnaround, I decided to cut through the dry sand a bit – a shorter line, but worse traction. I think I made up a couple seconds. Then the turnaround (about 33 minutes) and the beach run in reverse.

Back at the end of the beach is the infamous sand ladder – 400 steps of mostly sand and a bit of ladder. I hit it hard and used the cable banister as much as I could, passing a few on the way up. It was tough, but I think that the climb by the Golden Gate Bridge had been mentally tougher. And, after the sand ladder, the trail keeps going up, reaching the same elevation as the climb in the reverse direction. This was probably my slowest mile, definitely slower than 10 minutes.

Then came the final descent, which I worked, except for the final stairs. The guy who told me he grew up in Boulder as he had been running behind me passed me on these stairs and left me behind. I hit the flats and the 6 mile marker at 54 minutes, thinking it was going to be a 1:10 run split by the time I was finished. I passed Klaus going out as I was coming in, and I found a strong pace I thought I might be able to hold for two flat miles.

I hit mile 7 at less than an hour. I was flying toward the finish. My goal at this point was holding my pace and passing as many people as I could. I hit the finish line at about a 1:06 run split. My pace for those last two miles had been an incredible (for me) 6:00 or 6:30 per mile, faster than my normal 5K pace. I need to run at sea level more often! Even after that brutal run I somehow found that final kick.

Learnings

My final time was 2:48:15, 11 out of 91 in my age group. In 2002, my time had been 2:46:31, and I was 23 out of 110. Not bad for 8 years older.

My knee was a bit worse, but ice and Advil helped. My calves were sore for a few days.

And even though I was sure I had crammed all my gear into my bag at the end of the swim, I still ended up with someone else's neoprene cap instead of my own.

What did I learn?

• Add a headlamp to my race checklist
• Add some petty cash to the list as well – not having the $2 Muni fare, I had had to walk back to the hotel after the race
• Booties are probably a net gain for a cold water swim, even though my actual swim speed might be a bit slower (but swim socks would definitely have been a problem)
• New, stronger goggles before a race are very useful
• Testing the equipment out in the pool before the race and having enough time to make changes is a good idea
• Leaving enough time after the bike tune-up before the race for things like ordering parts is also a good idea
• TriBike Transport reduces the stress, but be prepared to be without the bike for longer than you originally think
• Using ground transport for the bike allows you ship a CO2 cartridge with it – not needed, but good insurance
• A hotel that is an easy bike from the race start is ideal, and lets you bike to/from packet pickup, race meetings, and the race itself
• At Alcatraz, do everything possible to get off the boat as quickly as possible, because each person off ahead of you is someone that may be in your way on that rather crowded course
• Don’t stress out too much about the long range weather forecasts, especially when they change drastically from day to day or from website to website
• Thank the weather gods when they are so much in your favor, especially when other major races the same weekend are way too hot or too cold
• Bike handling, descending, and confidence represent a major opportunity for improvement
• Think about a sea level running race to build confidence and maybe snag a PR
• Need to work on technical running descents
• Escape from Alcatraz is a fun race in a great location, but there are way too many athletes on the course

Boulder City Council Election 2009

There are five open seats on council up for election. I'm not going to endorse five candidates, because I don't think there are five outstanding candidates.

The ballot tells us to vote for up to five candidates. I've asked several people who they are supporting, and usually they can rattle off two or three or four names. But they're not sure who they are going to add to make up their five choices.

Here's what I tell them: Don't do it. If you really like three candidates, vote just for those three. If you also vote for two candidates you think are okay but not great, those two votes are votes against the people you support. Your second tier candidates may win against your favorites because of your votes and the votes of others who also just included them to get up to five.


There are many specific issues on which to evaluate the candidates. But I don't think this is about specific issues. I think this is about principles, and about the kind of person.

Here are some of the things that I think are important for council, and candidates should be on top of these:

• Council needs to learn to run this city without micromanaging. Council meetings cannot go until 2:00 AM just because they can't get through all the issues.
• Council needs to set direction, and staff needs to be on board and held accountable. Today there are too many rogue departments and rogue department heads who are interested in turf building, rather than supporting the direction defined by our elected representatives.
• Council needs to lay down the law with the City Manager to make sure she is enforcing this principle with all departments.
• There is no real understanding of business principles in the council. As far as I can tell, some departments don't even understand which aspects of their programs make money and which ones lose money. Council can't make sound fiscal decisions without this kind of information, and nobody on council seems to have the background to understand what is necessary.
• Fitting in with the national mood, it seems to be common belief that you have to be either pro-environment or pro-business. Yet our leaders need to embrace both in order to properly represent our interests and serve us.
• The relationship with the county government is good, and the relationship with CU is improving. But the relationships with Boulder Valley School District and RTD are dismal. It is critical that the city be able to work well with these other government agencies.
• It is a PR nightmare when the city moves forward with big, unpopular capital projects while cutting back library services. The city needs to better figure out how to remain flexible in its budgets and responsive when needed.
• In fact, in general the city government needs to work on its PR. They makes lots of decisions that are controversial, and the reasoning behind the decisions is only evident to the people who stayed to 1:00 AM at the council meeting at which the topic was discussed. Currently, the public discussion is often controlled by the opponents to these decisions, who make their own one-sided emotional appeals. There's nothing wrong with one-sided appeals to the public, but the council needs to figure out how to get its story out too.
• Make it a high priority to make information available and to make it easy for people to actually find that information.
• Be willing to drop an idea if the public is obviously opposed. For example, whether or not council deserves a raise, they should have dropped the idea once the public voted it down the first time.

So, who am I endorsing?

I've known Barry Siff for several years, so perhaps I'm biased. But he is taking his council bid so seriously that it is impossible to ignore him.

When Barry started considering the run for council, he started going to every single council meeting, and he stayed until the bitter end. He even sold his booming business to be able to concentrate on this effort.

Barry has been in business for years and has business savvy. He understands all aspects of running a business, having been in senior management at a large company, as well as owning and running a small local business. He understands the bottom line, and he knows the value of having the best people working for him -- without that nothing can happen.

Barry is excited about changing the way council runs, stopping this crazy business of running meetings until the wee hours of the morning. After all, the way things are now, citizen participation is a joke.

Barry took a small local triathlon, and built it into a successful business that ran several races every year. So successful, in fact, that he had several suitors when he was ready to sell. He picked the buyer that would be best for the sport and best for Boulder -- Ironman is the biggest brand in the sport and is well-known outside the sport, and bringing that brand to Boulder without the city having to court them is a huge coup.

While running 5430 Sports, Barry did something he didn't have to. He turned his races into an environmental example for the entire multisport community around the country. It wasn't just having Eco-Cycle come in and collect recycling and compostables. It was actively pursuing what he called tri-sustainability. Using solar power at the races. Encouraging alternative transport. Even finding ways to recycle water bottles, bike parts, and energy bar wrappers. This shows that Barry is not just talk, that he can not only do the right thing, but also show the way to the rest of the world.

Everyone talks about having good relationships with other government entities. However, Barry called up Bruce Benson, the President of CU, made an appointment, and sat down with him. Our current council members are not doing that, much less the other candidates.

Barry has put a huge amount of effort into supporting low-income children in Boulder. He just doesn't talk about it, he does it.

Barry has more energy and enthusiasm than anyone I know. He's a former adventure racer, and so has unique qualifications to make it through marathon council meetings. He is also a huge Boulder booster.

Look at who is backing Barry. It's everyone from the most conservative to the most liberal. He doesn't have the biggest name recognition, but he is becoming well known all around town.

I say, when you make your city council selection(s) this year, include Barry Siff. I'm convinced he will make a huge contribution to the city. I don't agree with him on every issue, but on the guiding principles he is a perfect match.

Ironman comes to Boulder

Today, I'm competing in the 5430 Sprint Triathlon. Barry and Jodee Siff, founders of the race and owners of 5430 Sports (named after Boulder's elevation) recently sold their company (and its eight races) to World Triathlon Corporation, which owns the Ironman brand and races around the globe.

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The Meaning of Tri{athlon}: The Hearts and Minds Behind the Swim, Bike & Run

This anthology of 15 essays, written by every day triathletes, is about humans doing what they were meant to do. In these pages, you’ll read why these triathletes love their sport. They are the men and women you meet every day. Some of the authors have regular jobs and some are retired. Some of them are barely out of school and some are grandparents. They are the fast one and they are the not-so-fast one but they all compete from start to finish just the same. You’ll read stories of triumph and defeat, of finding oneself and leaving one’s old self behind. They write about meeting new love on the course and leaving love-gone-wrong in the dust. For these athletes, triathlon is more than a sport, it's a way of life. And, that’s the way it should be.

Excerpt from "Triathlon as Evolution" written by yours truly:

It was August 1997, and I was rapidly approaching that time of life when many guys might consider getting a Porsche or a cute blond girlfriend or some other flashy distraction. On one Saturday morning I happened to read in the paper about something called a triathlon being held the next day. I was intrigued.

I didn’t know anything about the sport. In fact, I hadn’t participated in competitive sports since I was on a swim team at age nine or ten. But, as a mild-mannered, geeky, relatively active but noncompetitive kind of guy, I thought I could finish the race.

With my experience on a childhood swim team I figured the swim would be easy. As an occasional bike commuter, on weekends I often enjoyed riding up into the foothills, so the cycling wouldn’t be a problem. And, even though I’d never done it before, how hard could a bit of running be? If worse came to worst, I could always walk.

So, my wife, Caron, and I peddled our mountain bikes to Boulder High School to register me for the Boulder Peak Triathlon. It’s an Olympic-distance race, although I didn’t know what that meant at the time. A newbie in the worst way, I asked all the dumbest questions: What do you wear? What is a wet suit? Can I ride my mountain bike? Somehow I missed the crucial ones: Why am I doing this? What should I have done to prepare?

A Bad Week for Retired Pro Triathletes

First, Dave Scott was struck by a car while cycling less than a mile from here. The driver, who was ticketed, made an illegal U-turn in front of "The Man" as he was coming down a hill, causing the collision. Dave ended up with a broken finger and wrist, and either a broken or dislocated shoulder, depending on reports. Get well soon, Dave!

Then, Steve Larsen, the road/mountain/cross cycling icon who also made a big splash in the big race on the Big Island when he "dabbled" in the sport of triathlon, died suddenly and unexpectedly during a track workout. The initial reports pointed to a heart attack but the autopsy made a virus the primary suspect. Steve, I hope wherever you are there are miles and miles of great riding.

They say bad things happen in threes. I hope we don't hear about a shark attack on another former pro in the next few days.

Saba Pictures

I recently wrote about the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon, which I competed in at the beginning of this month. I thought some of my readers might be interested in some photos from Saba. Click on any picture to see the full-size version.


This is the bike I did the race on. Note the fine natural rust color of the chain, and the ultra-fast, ultra-light race wheels.


We loaded the bikes up on the ferry and cruised over from St. Maarten to Saba. My bike's in the back. Notice that somebody else rented one of these wonder machines.


This is the view of Saba from the ferry. Just five square miles, and its head in the clouds. Not one flat spot. Well's Bay, the start of the triathlon, is just around the point on the right side.


Just to give you an idea of the number of people in the race, here is a shot of the registration and pasta dinner the night before the race.


This is a shot of the race start location from the ferry. If you zoom in, you can see the steepness of the Road as it rises from Well's Bay. Using my protractor, I make it out at about 40%.


Here you can see a rainstorm coming in, like the one that made the race so much fun.


This view from Saba shows the island of Statia in the foreground, with St. Kitts behind, and Nevis barely visible in the background. On a clear day you can see to Montserrat.


This panorama shows the seascape visible from the guest house we stayed at. In the distance you can make out the islands (left to right) of St. Maarten, St. Barths, and Statia.



These are a couple of views of Mt. Scenery. At 877 meters, this volcano is the only cloud forest in the Caribbean.


The patrons of this church in Windwardside (past which the bike course goes) must worship their own interesting version of the Holy Trinity. I visited the night before the race to see if any of it would rub off on me. I believe the names of the three cats are (left to right) Swim, Bike, and Run.

Through the Gates of Hell

I just got back from the Caribbean (hence the lack of posts for the past two weeks). We spent most of the time on St. Maarten/St. Martin, but we also popped over to the island of Saba so that I could participate in the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon.

The Friendly Island Goes Halvsies

St. Maarten and St. Martin are two halves of one island. The former is part of the Netherlands Antilles and is very American (they use primarily dollars, speak English, etc.) The latter is part of France, and is very French (but American-friendly). They use Euros on the French side, which makes it currently very expensive for us Americans.

We'd been to the island of St. Maarten once before, about five years earlier, and it has changed quite a bit. For one, the traffic is horrendous. If you visit, I highly recommend finding a nice spot and remaining there as much as you can during your stay. The roads are in very bad shape, very badly signed, filled with rental cars (and this wasn't even the high season), trucks, buses, endless construction projects, and locals who think nothing of stopping anywhere in the road to say hi to someone. Plus, there are almost no stop signs or traffic lights, and even though there are numerous roundabouts many people don't really know how to drive through them.

The weather was perfect -- in the 80s every day, with maybe one or two 5-minute refreshing rainstorms during the day or early morning. The wind did pick up some times, which added some chop to the water, and made the swimming much more "interesting". I love to swim, and was out every day, and I can say that the water was much more busy this time than when we previously visited. Jet skis, wind surfers, etc., none of whom expect to see swimmers, all made swimming across a bay a bit more of an adventure.

I rented a bicycle from a shop called TriSport, which I highly recommend. The island is very hilly, which makes cycling either more fun or more of a pain, depending on your demeanor. However, what really changed since my last visit was the traffic.

It was generally true that I could ride significantly faster than the cars, but it requires riding very aggressively. I learned this technique by watching the scooters and motorcycles on the roads there. You cannot ride on the right side of the road, as you will get cut off by almost every driver, and the potholes are immense. You have to ride right down the center line. If a big truck is coming the other direction, you simply pop back into the line of cars.

One other thing that has really changed in the past few years is the amount of construction. I had a magazine from a local nature group that had hiking and biking trail maps. I spent a couple hours trying to find a particular hiking trail and a nearby biking trail shown on the map. I finally found some promising dirt roads, only to shortly thereafter get chased out by a guy on an ATV, telling me that it was a construction zone. It seems the trails are gone, and are being turned into a pink hotel, a boutique, and a streaming hotspot.

Spoiled by the Unspoiled Queen

Anyway, on the Friday after we arrived, we went down to the marina, put the rented bike in the back of the ferry, and took a ride over to Saba (also part of the Dutch Antilles). The boat takes a bit over an hour to get there. I knew nothing about Saba before we went, and nothing about the race, other than the fact that it was supposed to have a big hill climb on the bike, and that the run was mostly on trails.

However, from the ferry, I could see the bay where the swim takes place, and the start of The Road -- an incredibly steep incline at the base of an incredibly steep mountain. One of the ferry crew, on discovering I was planning on doing the race, started warning me about how hard it was. He described a 45 degree ascent on a road that was originally believed would be impossible to build.

Suitably scared, we landed. There was a truck waiting to take the bikes to the hotels at the top of the hill, and a taxi waiting for the race contestants. No, I didn't cycle up, even though it was only a few miles to our hotel. The island is only five square miles, and there is only one road (called, The Road), but it rises to something like 800 or 900 meters, and has a cloud forest at the top of its active volcano. The island is nicknamed "The Unspoiled Queen", and has only about 1500 inhabitants.

We had a great visit to Saba, as there is just about nothing to do. (There are no beaches to speak of, although scuba is very popular). Nothing but enjoy the view -- just about 360 degrees of seascape panorama. The village we were in is called Hell's Gate, and the guest house is The Gate House. That's right, a gourmet restaurant, with an award-winning wine list, extraordinary views, and as far as I know not a single door on the island even has a lock.

Isn't a Race Supposed to be Fast?

So much for the fun part. The race was on Sunday morning. No getting around it. As usual, it rained for a just few minutes, but pretty hard, right around sunrise. Made it cooler for the race, but it also meant that the roads would be wet. Yes, the course was mostly uphill, but there are some short, steep, windy descents, and wet roads would make them more treacherous.

I got a ride to Wells Bay, where the race starts, and my bike found a ride in a truck as well. There was just a tiny beach for the start. (We were lucky -- a few days earlier, there was no beach at all.) There was just a tiny field of competitors -- about 16 individuals (like me) planning on doing the entire race, and seven teams of three.

The swim portion of the race (about 800 meters) starts on the beach, goes out to a first buoy, turns left to a second buoy, and then returns to the beach. The swell and surf were significant, but certainly swimmable. However, the buoys were small and were hidden from view by the swell when swimming.

The race started. As the mainlander not used to entering the surf, I was one of the last to actually start swimming. But there was a boat to sight on at the first buoy, I got a good line and swam steady, and I soon passed several swimmers and found myself alone. Eventually, I made it to the buoy, and two swimmers appeared from nowhere.

I didn't know it at the time, but one of the two was the man who had won this race every year so far, and who was to go on to win for the fifth time that day. But at the moment, all I saw was two swimmers, one who turned this way, and the other who turned that way. Of course, I couldn't see the second buoy, so I just chose a course half way between the two.

Of course, that was a bad idea. I was guaranteed to be wrong. But after a couple minutes, I was able to correct my course, and turned a bit behind the swimmer who had gone this way. Then it was hard back to the beach, and I was gaining on him all the way. I was still behind, when, by some miracle, I caught the wave to the shore just right and he didn't. I actually beat out of the water by four seconds the man who was to go on to win the race, and at that point I was in third place (over two minutes behind the two swim leaders), at what was to be my best position all day.

Then it was up the beach, over the rocks, and through the parking lot, where the bikes had been left. I took my time putting my shoes on, because I had just come by car down that road and I knew how steep it was. I had my excuses ready -- I was on a cheap, heavy, rented mountain bike. The chain was rusted (but all the gears worked) and I rode the bike with platform pedals wearing my running shoes. But I was looking to see if I could get up that hill anyway.

Take the steepest climb you've done. Now, double the grade (or maybe triple it). Then, climb that super steep hill for the first kilometer or more of a race, and keep climbing hard for most of the rest of the race. A small number of the competitors in this race actually ride all the way. Most end up pushing their bikes. I rode for maybe two minutes, red-lining the whole time, then zigged when I should have zagged, and ended up unable to continue on the pedals.

But the funny thing is, pushing the bike was almost as fast as riding it, and I was using lots less energy, so maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all. After maybe 15 minutes of pushing, I got to the top of the first climb. I got back on the bike, but I could barely balance, I was so tired.

There were more ups and more downs. Perhaps it was lucky that the roads were wet, as it gave me an excuse to go more slowly on the descents and take the time to recover. Then came the last climb, which was almost (but not quite) as hard as the first. This one I made without walking.

The ride was only 8 kilometers, but it had taken me over 50 minutes to complete. And I was wobbling on my feet as I tried to find the trail to start the run. I was now in eleventh place overall. I just went easy for a bit, hoping to find all the turns in the trail, and hoping to get into a rhythm.

But, alas, a rhythm was not to be found. I recovered my legs soon enough, but the trail got more and more technical. After a bit, it turned into a very long, steep, treacherous descent. I was wearing my road running shoes, the trail was slippery, and, although I run trails all the time at home, this was slow going. I got passed by one, two, three "runners" who, I swear, had mountain goat genes.

The "run" section of this race is only officially 5.3 kilometers, but I didn't get to the 1/4 mark until about 17 minutes into the run. I should be almost done by now! Instead, I'm getting passed by people who train at sea level.

Finally, the trail goes back uphill. Again, incredibly steep. But at least I'm more at home. Trail running in Colorado has prepared me for this part of the race. I start catching up to the people who had passed me. I'm getting more confident. But then more downhill, and I'm getting passed again. And then a very long uphill. I try to use the uphill to get as much time as I can, and I make my way past the three people who'd gone by me a bit earlier.

But there were some more sprinkles. The trail was getting muddier and more treacherous. And this long climb would end with a very steep descent almost all the way to the finish.

On the tricky part, another runner was staying right behind me, letting me pick my way gingerly down the trail in my now-mud-caked and soaked shoes, down the moss-covered rocks, every step carefully chosen. And when we heard steps coming up from behind, my shadow passed me, and then the other runner, leaving me to wonder what special shoes they must be wearing to get through this at such speed. I was well behind both of them at the finish, in 17th place overall (out of 23).

Some of the lessons for anybody to take into this race: First, it's all about the bike. You need to get the lightest bike with the easiest gearing, then you need to spend time training on these hills, or hills very much like them (if you can find them). Second, trail running practice is crucial (although very little of the trail section was actually spent running -- most was "speed hiking"). But having good trail shoes and practicing treacherous, slippery trail descents is the key. You cannot brute force that course.

But here's the biggest take away. This is a teeny race, all local. I'm sure I was the competitor from the furthest away. (Just about all the others were from Saba or St. Maarten or St. Martin.) Not counting travel, the race entry fee is only $35, and that includes not only the t-shirt, the pasta dinner the night before, and the BBQ lunch after the race, but also the taxi rides and truck transportation for the bike all around the island all weekend. This type of small event is something that you will never find in Boulder anymore.

So, if you are interested in doing something completely different, and adding a unique challenge to a relaxing vacation, consider the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon. Send an email to Susy at TriSport and she'll help you arrange it; she was helpful to me in many ways.

And, by going into the race knowing that I was using the wrong bike and the wrong shoes, I was forced to do the race "just for fun".

[Updated 12/18/07 with this link to my pictures from Saba.]

Bike vs. Bear

Only in Boulder

I was competing in the Boulder Peak Triathlon on Sunday, along with about 1600 of my close friends. Another competitor, Sabrina Oei, had started in an earlier wave and was about 15 minutes in front of me in the bike portion of the race. Screaming down Lefthand Canyon at about 35 MPH, she hit a black bear that was unexpectedly walking across the road and went over her handlebars.

The bear, apparently uninjured, ran off into the woods. Sabrina, however, waited half an hour for the ambulance to arrive, when she was pronounced to have a major case of road rash and fit to continue the race. Remarkably, her bike was also fit to ride after the encounter.

Sabrina was not issued a summons for cruelty to animals, and the bear was not given a citation by race officials for obstruction. There is no evidence that the bear was hired by another competitor to deliberately slow Sabrina down. The race director, Barry Siff did, however, promise to put up a "Bear Crossing" sign at the location for next year's race.

Attracting Attention Is Not Always Good

Paul Brekus of Denver wants to ride his antique high wheeler bike in the 5430 Sprint Triathlon on June 18, to attract attention to the Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis Therapy Development Foundation. Race director Barry Siff has shot down the idea.

I say kudos to Barry! I plan on being in the race, and the last thing that is needed is a bike that is hard to control and doesn't even have a full complement of brakes. In fact, Brekus has admitted to several hospital visits from falling off his bike. Not only is this bike and rider prone to accidents, this particular race is targeted partly to beginner triathletes. A very bad mix indeed.

Barry, as he should, is focusing on the safety of the people participating. This is his number one concern. Keep up the good work!