Sorry Chris

I've been "home"  - back to the UK - for the past week, just a flying visit mostly on business but with the intention to pack in a few personal things. Some of those were a bit dutiful, like seeing my Mum, and Mother-in-law, while others were indulgent, like having a bath in my own bath, in my own house. And being in the rain. I've tried many, many times to explain to my friends and others from the UK, how I miss rain. Nobody understands.But when you've been in drought-bound California for 9 months, where the restaurants have stopped giving glasses of water automatically and asking you to request it especially "because of the drought", then believe me, you will miss rain. After 9 months of brown, dried earth you begin to look at pictures of British countryside and think it has been digitally enhanced to look that good. You really do doubt it can be that green. And you remember going out in the rain, feeling it wash into your face, seeing it clean your world, feeling it refreshing your spirit. You think about the times when you were sheltering from the rain, but enjoyed watching it from your chosen haven.

So when I turned up at Tuesday night's runclub, fresh off the plane and with my Californian tan still glowing, it was sheeting down with a venom that I loved. I got my trainers properly dirty for the fist time despite having them for 6 months. I splashed through the mud, enjoying the rain, the grass, the damp feel on my skin and the crunch and sloosh of the wet trail. I had a great night, catching up with everybody and settling into my rightful place, finding my natural running group. Terrific.

But, the best part of the whole week was the arranged night out with a few friends. Beer and curry. I've not had a proper British curry since I went out to San Francisco, and I was looking forward to it, and the proper draught bitter, and the proper British friends. Proper - sadly there isn't enough of life that is "proper", but when something is proper then it is worth rejoicing in. So to say that I was in a good frame of mind on Saturday night is something of an understatement, but it still doesn't excuse my actions. Maybe I've been around too many Americans for too long, but I was excited, excitable, and demonstrative with it - an inexcusable combination back home! When Carolyn arrived I jumped up with glee, but I think I got away with it. Unfortunately when I saw Chris coming down the road I couldn't contain myself: I leapt up and ran towards him like a kid greeting his Dad. You don't do that to Chris. He's proper all right, a proper bloke in general, so he doesn't do that sort of stuff. I can best describe him by narrating the discussion we had over email when he became Chairman of the run club. He's accepted that role because he wants to contribute, wants to help people, and wants to help the club. Proper. But his biggest challenge will be diplomacy. Chris has a simple view on life. He's there to help, to provide the means for you to achieve, but if you have a problem with any of his methods or his style, he's not about to change it. I suggested to him that his approach might be a bit too blunt for some in the club and he agreed that his "if you don't like it you can fuck off" style might need some adjustment. but his heart is absolutely in the right place and he'll be great for the club. So, there I am running down the street bubbling over with joy at being back home, and Chris saw me coming: "I don't do man-hugs!" he shouted at me, and started looking for an escape route, but I was committed. I amended the hug to a hearty handshake just in time, but I know he was embarrassed. Sorry Chris. Great night though.

Only a running race

I heard myself saying it to Jo: "it was only a running race", as an attempt to explain my somewhat diffident approach to the famous, 104th edition of the iconic Bay to Breakers event in San Francisco. Imagine London Marathon but with more alcohol and more students, and you have the idea. I entered it months ago just to do it, to tick the box. I had also entered last year, but ended up in the wrong country when it was on, so this year I was determined to get the job done. But, I wasn't really taking it too seriously. My focus is on Alcatraz, so this would be not much more then a training run for me. I haven't become all blase about stuff just because I'm in San Francisco - even though there is something going on every weekend - it is simply that Alcatraz is consuming me, part in fear (of the swim), part in hope (of a top ten age group finish), part in anticipation of doing one of the most iconic triathlons in the world.

So I rocked up at the start of Bay to Breakers without much of a plan. The elite and sub-7 pen were just ahead, and I was in Pen "A", supposedly for 7-8 minute milers. When I entered I had actually been on 6:45 pace but I couldn't guarantee still being in that form so I decided discretion was the better approach and went into Pen "A". I have recently hit a bit of decent form again, so I figured I could easily hold my own in that company for the 12K race through the Streets of San Francisco down to Baker Beach. For reasons that I don't understand, there is a tradition of throwing tortillas around and it was raining flatbread when I arrived and took up my spot. As the hooter sounded the start of the race there were idiots in Pen "A" who started walking! Others were meandering around like on a Sunday outing, while some found it necessary to veer from one side of the road to the other to wave at a friend or something equally inane. Now, I understand that its a carnival - I get that. I appreciate that people want to have a laugh, to dress up as santa, or the Super Mario brothers. Yes, all very funny, but can't you do that at the back? Why say you're going to do 7-8 minute miles and then clown around at 15-20 minute pace? It's the same at triathlons where people state a different swim pace so they can go off at a different time. I'm quite liberal (firm but fair, I'd say) in my views on this: if you're deliberately misleading, you're in the way and you should be shot. There was one very notable exception to this: a troupe of around 6 or 7 "wonderwomen" tied together in a line. I know what you think I'm going to say, but this isn't a sexist view - and you need to remember that as part of my defense on the "anti-gay" charge below. No, this group of young ladies looked like they might get in the way, but went off at something like 6:30 pace and I never saw them again! 6:30 tied together - a pretty fine effort by any standards!

So I spent the first mile tripping over idiots and trying to get past without serious injury, but then settled into a nice pace, around 7 minutes a mile. I didn't back off much going up the infamous hills as we wound our way up to Golden Gate Park, and I negative split my way to 6:40 pace at the end. There were a few fancy dressers now, but mostly serious runners as we got near to the finish, and I passed one guy dressed only in underpants. I considered this; there was a fair bit of bravery involved for sure, but I wasn't too impressed really. He was too well coutured for it to be funny, and I wondered what the motive was. I don't know how to put the next bit but - well, if I was going to do a run in my underpants in front of an estimated million viewers I'd want to have a bit more erm.... well, a bit more to show than he did. So I have to assume he had a sizeable ego. Anyway, I finished the run in a respectable 52 minutes, got my finishers medal and headed for the shuttle bus. After a few minutes, underpant-boy got on the bus. I thought that was even braver than running. This was a "Muni" bus - renowned for being rough as hell. They are 100% hoseable inside - all plastic. There are T shirts that proudly proclaim: "I ride the 38 Muni" and is worn by the heroes who survive that journey which is akin to a mobile crystal meth clinic. But our friend swaggers on like, well, like a - shall we say - "big guy"? I didn't know whether to be impressed at his bravado (nothing else) or just to feel sorry for him. He was very carefully crafted, evenly sun-bronzed (or sprayed, I wasn't looking that close!), eyebrows clipped to perfection and hair that looked like he'd just stepped out of the salon. Without seeming anti-gay here, he was a "pretty boy". They are a particular type, and I'm fine that they just get on with life. I'm liberal like that. But I was horrified when he made a beeline for the seat next to me. My liberalness doesn't extend to skin contact. It was a long journey and, to be fair to underpant-boy I think he sensed my unease and moved seats halfway through. So - back to the race result: I finished in the top 500 overall, and 6th age group, about a minute and a half down on the age group winner. I was saying to Jo that I probably lost most of that time by not starting in the Sub-7 pen, as I certainly hadn't seen anyone remotely near my age near the finish line. So a win had been possible if I'd tried a bit harder and committed a bit more. But, unlike my devastation at not making qualifying at Napa, or at missing the podium at Wildflower, I was cool with it. "Only a running race" I explained. Jo went bonkers and had a proper go at me. "So you're saying that you got up at 5AM, ran all that way, got that close - and you didn't give it everything you had?" I don't often see her this angry, and I felt bad. I tried to explain that yes, I had run as quick as I could and I had tried, but I just hadn't been in a "do or die" mode. She wasn't impressed. I felt small - not as small as underpant-boy for sure, but certainly a little inadequate!

Value for Money

I'm having a dreadful time at work right now, and I am, quite honestly, hating every second. I'm in the middle of annual budget planning and all the restructuring, cost savings, tactical and strategic switches and manoeuvring that that process involves. Its never much fun, but its made worse just now by the fact that I am leaving in a couple of months. I am acutely aware that I am leaving a legacy for someone else to inherit - good or bad! The other main reason for my difficult time is that I had to sack someone last week. It's never easy, and despite the fact that I know its a fundamental part of my job, I can never treat it casually. I always feel it like its me on the receiving end. So it always hurts, even though I know I am doing it for the best for the company. I try to separate my emotional response from the logical, business view, and I succeed. But this one was harder than any other that I've done, because this was Oscar, my pal. In one hit I lost a salesman, a friend, and a cycling buddy. That was a bad day. 

So if my focus at the moment is all about achieving value for money, you might question the latest outgoing from my personal budget. I've just "invested" $139 in search of additional advantage for the Escape from Alcatraz race. In return for my investment I get taken out into San Francisco Bay, right out to Alcatraz, and pushed off a boat into the freezing cold water. BUT! I don't get pushed in by just anyone - oh no. I get pushed off BY EXPERTS! And then, after a bit of splashing about, they pick me out of the water, take me a bit further into the Bay and - you guessed it - push me in again. The final part of the session sees me getting plucked out of the water again, taken to within reach of land and - yes - pushed off again. All this for only $139. You can see why I signed up for that, can't you? Always the businessman, getting true return on my investment.

Training for Escape from Alcatraz

Escape from Alcatraz triathlon: "tough" doesn't even begin to describe it. Jump off the "San Francisco Belle" steamer at Alcatraz prison and swim to the St. Francis Yacht Club, then bike up the hills to Golden Gate Park, then run 8+ miles including the dreaded "Sand Ladder". It's supposed to be one of the toughest triathlons in the world. The sea swim is in San Francisco Bay and two pieces of advice ring in my ears: 

1. swim hard when you jump into the cold water, partly to deal with the shock but also to avoid getting caught up in the swirling eddies that hold you into the island

2. the sharks are only usually quite small, and they usually swim lower than you will be swimming.

Hmm.

When I first entered this it was a long way off, and I had visions of transforming myself into a super-swimmer in the 8 months I had in hand. Since then, I've gone through 4 swim coaches, a 1:1 swim course, 2 individual 1:1 sessions; many group sessions, a masters swim class and an advanced small class swim school. My times are no better, my confidence is no better, and I've now got 4 weeks left. A couple of weeks ago I decided, with Jo's help, to take matters into my own hands and abandoned all outside, professional help. Jo and I decided that I would just keep doing open water swimming as regularly as possible so that I would get more comfortable in the water. One of my biggest fears was that I would simply disappear from view, unnoticed by anyone, and be gone forever, so Jo comes down to Aquatic Park with me 4-5 times a week, and just watches my orange swim cap go back and forth. That alone has made a massive difference to me, enabling me to tackle the other demons with some sense of perspective. Don't get me wrong, I still don't like it, but now I don't spend the whole swim chanting: "I hate this; I hate this!" Now, I am actually giving some thought to my style, controlling my breathing and controlling my effort. I'm still not quick, and I know I will lose minutes to my rivals, but I'll get to the bike in better shape to chase them down. I want to finish in the top ten for my age group, and for that I estimate I will need a total time of 2:42. The swim will take me about 46 minutes; the run is 8 hilly miles which is going to take me at least 50, leaving (assuming 3 minutes f0r transition), 1:03 for the bike. Every one of those is a big ask. My timed runs on the bike have given me a best of 1:09:49. Allowing 10% for race adrenalin that just about does it, but its all very tight, and even as I write this I know I'm not being very realistic. It would involve having the swim of my life, followed by the bike of my life, completed by the run of my life. But - I do like challenge! I've also decided that I'm going to take 20 seconds out of the swim simply looking around me at the bay. While it seems ridiculous to give away 20 seconds when I have trained so hard to gain that amount, there will be no other opportunity in my life to get that view, that experience, from that perspective. There will hardly be anyone in the world who has had that opportunity, so I'm going to take it and look back on it in years to come. If I miss 10th spot by those 20 seconds I'll be furious!

So exactly how hard am I training? Well, in the last 8 days I've done 1 triathlon, 7 runs, 3 bikes, and 4 swims. That has involved early mornings before work, lunchtimes, and evenings after work. Obviously the weekends as well. Jo has been at every swim, sitting (usually shivering) patiently watching. Without that support I wouldn't be a triathlete now. After I failed to qualify for the US Nationals a few weeks ago I was distraught. I gave away 6 minutes in the swim and then missed out on qualification by 10 seconds. I was ready to give up. Jo was having none of it, so here I am still trying. One big effort, then maybe I'll retire!

Fourth Sucks!

I saw Eric on Monday morning, at the coffee shop where I pick up my morning brew from Pancho. I'd only met him on Saturday evening, down at the Wildflower Triathlon in Pasa Robles, Southern California. He'd done the Long Course as part of a relay team, and they'd all loved it. And so they should: Wildflower is known as "The Woodstock of Triathlon" and is a long-established favourite that has launched - and destroyed - many careers. It is a tough one, with many hills including "heartbreak hill" and the more simply-named "nasty grade". It's a festival atmosphere with camping, rock bands and beer tents, and was one of the "must-do" events for me during this year in the US. When I entered I only considered the fun of the event, and the challenge of the course, but of course now I'm chasing USA Championship qualification so fun and challenge have gone down the priority list for all my events. I'll enjoy them when I look back. On Saturday evening there was something of a festival atmosphere at our little encampment. With 3 spectators and 3 who'd already finished there was beer round the campfire, a BBQ with loads of sausages and other forbidden delights that I couldn't have. I ate alone, early, and boringly. The other noticeable feature of our happy little band was that I was about 35 years older than everyone else. We travelled and camped together - I even slept in a tent with two young girls that I'd not met until that day - but sport was our only common theme. For them, it was basically like going camping with your Dad. So I wasn't taking a very active part in the conversation, and I wasn't taking part in the drinking or eating. I was thinking about my race, preparing myself, visualising the swim, the bike, the run, the transition. I was also ready for bed, when the biscuits, or "cookies" as the Americans call them, came out. "Just the job", I thought. A nice sweet treat before bed. "You don't want one of these" said one of the group. "Oh, I don't know" I responded. "I've had a  couple of the white choc chip ones. It's good carbs and it'll help me sleep." "You won't like these, believe me." "Yes I think I will. I like the dark chocolate" I fought back. If I wanted a bloody biscuit I would bloody well have one. No twenty-something kid was going to give me nutritional advice, especially after the booze they'd had. "Pete," advised my new adversary, "you don't want one of these!" I glanced around and saw some smiles. "They've er, got some special ingredients that might upset your race prep." Aah. I see. Erm, thanks. Goodnight.

So  - back to Eric. "How did you get on?" He asked cheerily. "Were you happy with your result?" I told him I was disappointed, and he asked why. "I came fourth." I thought this was explanation enough, but he looked confused. Eric isn't a triathlete, and he's not chasing qualification, so he didn't get it at all. "Fourth! Wow! Fourth at Wildflower, thats brilliant! Why is that a disappointment?" I felt pretty bad. How can you be disappointed with a sunny, hot, picturesque weekend away in California at a festival-like event where you spent time doing your chosen hobby? How can that not be absolutely great? Well it was, but fourth sucks. I might have been a bit more pleased with a podium, but qualification is what I want. I may be shallow, but when I don't get what I want, I'm not happy. When I'm not happy, I usually let people know. I'm not particularly proud of that aspect of my character, but it's me. And fourth sucks, simple as that. It's made worse by the fact that I thought I'd won when I finished. I'm slow in the swim, so I spend the whole race chasing, and I'd done that very effectively. My new Argon bike performed faultlessly, and was perfect for the course. Nobody came past, from any age group. My run was good, and again, nobody came past from any age group. I was quick through transition, and everyone that I targeted to get past, I did. I had a time of 2:48 which on that course was good. Last year 2:41 won my age group but this year was generally considered to be harder, so I thought 2:48 was enough. It was only later, after an hour of false glory, that I discovered that not only had I not won, but I hadn't made the podium and I had missed US qualification by 90 seconds. Maybe I should have tried one of the magic cookies!