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Intro(as told by Christian)
It was a day when mere men became idols, when athletes became icons,
when heroes become legends.
It was a day of reckoning.
It was the day of the Ithaca triathlon.
Toeing the line with the beloved b.good logo emblazoned on their
breasts were three competitors whose fortunesfor better or worsewere
about to change forever.
They rose early, these three, and took their breakfast before the sun
marked the sky with its first rays. With intrepid determination and
grim faces, they readied their equipment and departed for the site of
the spectacle that would define them as the cast-iron combatants that
they were.
I was one of them, one of this triumvirate of fearless warriors. And
as I sat there, nervously swallowing my Honey Bunches of Oats next to
Chris and waiting for Alex to roust himself (fresh off the Olympic
trials, he woke up 15 minutes before departure, scratching himself
under his boxers and reaching blearily for the fridge) I knew that my
life was about to change.
Whether it would change the way I wanted it to was up for some
debate. As I stretched at the start of the race, surveying the course
and limbering my muscles for the impending struggle, I couldn't help
but notice that some of the competitors lining up to utilize the
services of the nearby Port a Potty werewell-muscled. Slack-jawed, I
took in their washboard abdominals, their steely calves, their
squared-off quadriceps. I looked at my teammates, an undersized Asian
and a swimmer with all the abdominal definition of a street-sign, and
I grew frightened.
Then I looked at myself --- 5 feet, 7 and three quarters inches of
chiseled, striated tissue. My fright disappeared. Chris told me to
stop checking out the other competitors.
Somewhat nonplussed at his apparent reluctance to size up the
competition, I concentrated on running back and forth in the
transition area. I was coming off an ankle injurysustained the
previous week while playing soccer with a bunch of 14 year old summer
campersand I had been forced to neglect my training to let it heal.
But as I jammed to the uplifting beats of Daddy Yankee and Britney
Spears on my iPod, I couldn't escape a conviction that everything
would be alright.
(as told by Alex)
The race got off to an abrupt start as I almost missed the starting gun because I was trying to calm the nervous Christian Flow. In retrospect, maybe his heart shouldnt have begun beating over 150 beats per minute until the actual running leg started.
(as told by Chris)
It was weird seeing all these people in sleeveless skinsuits like they were trying to bare their incredible biceps or something. I knew itd just slow them down on the hills. I think I was the only one wearing a long sleeve skinsuit, but thats the price you have to pay for sound aerodynamics, right?
The warm-up suckedbecause there was no warm-up. The reasoning for this? The race organizer lady cited unfairness since other competitors, namely the non-relay people, wouldnt get a chance to warm-up on the bike. Right. So I guess a 1.5 km swim doesnt qualify
The Swim (as told by Alex)
Unfortunately I was in the third and last wave of swimmers, five minutes apart, so I was passing people the whole way, which was obnoxious. Also, with no warm up whatsoever, my lungs felt like they were going to burst and my shoulders were tight as a bow. However I still managed to finish in fine time, giving us a four minute lead going into the bike leg.
As usual, Chris looked incredibly dapper as he mounted his glistening two-wheeled machine. I strapped the timing chip onto his ankle and he sped off onto what was to be a personal best 40k ride for him. My confidence in our relay, well, my confidence in Christian being able to hold off our competitors grew with every announcement from the checkpoints on the road. Little did I know, however, how close it would really be.
(as told by Christian)
This conviction grew when Alex came out of the water 5 minutes before
anyone else in his heat, having overtaken almost everybody in the
previous two heats. My heart swelled with pride as the wiry aquatic
antelope ran into the transition area, starting Chris off on the bike.
We watched our teammate take off, and before long updates were coming
back from the checkpoints --- Chris had charged past nearly everybody
on the bike leg's initial climb and was riding in second place overall
--- several minutes ahead of any other relay participant.
(as told by Chris)
So we sent Alex off and told him that despite starting a full 15 minutes behind the first wave, we expected him to be back in the transition area first. In between warding off Christians glances at other competitors bodies (was he judging their speed or how often they worked on abs? alas, for our Christian, they mean the same), chugging Gatorade, and frequenting the Porta-potty every five minutes, I warmed-up by doing Richard Simmons-like leg lifts and incredibly goofy looking on the spot jogs in my bike cleats.
So we waitedand waitedand waited, and finally, Alex came trotting over. Im thinking, man, couldnt he have run a bit faster at least to the transition area? And before I ran off, I express my supreme disappointment at his failure to catch all the first wave guys. Just kidding, at the days end, turned out he destroyed everyone elses swim times.
The Bike (as told by Chris)
I had to do this awkward run/push my bike thing over to the starting mat and did a cyclocross style mount (anyone? Any cross freaks out there?). It sucks that immediately, the course starts out with a 2 mile climb. Well, it sucks if you are big, burly and wear sleeveless tops to show off your biceps. I pushed my skinny ass past at least ten people up the climb and settled into a nice rhythm at the top. I got into an aero-tuck and soon was cruising by at 25-30mph along a beautiful stretch of highway running parallel to the lake. About 3/4 the way through the course, one of the road marshals yelled out the gap to the next relay team 12 minutes, so with that, I gave it full throttle to the finishwhich was fun considering that the last two miles are the first two miles in reverse. I rolled back into the transition area, did another one of those goofy dismounts, and handed the chip off from my ankle to Christians.
(as told by Alex)
Chris rode into the park doing a wheelie, took a victory lap (I mean, who would think that we would need a full ten-minute cushion), and then collapsed into the transition area.
(as told by Christian)
While Alex sunned himself and pandered to female fans, I finished
loosening up, and eventually took the chip from Chris as he came
cruising into the transition area.
Chris had told me that he would take about 65 minutes to complete the
leg. He was back in under an hour. Taking the timing chip from him
and strapping it on my leg, I took off. As it happened, Alex had
posted the top swim time of anybody participating in the triathlon,
and Chris' bike time would be second overall --- that is to say, our
lead was considerable. I took the course alone only the second
person to enter the running leg (recall again, that two heats had gone
off before usChris and Alex had reeled in all but one of the
participants of these heats.)
The Run (as told by Christian)
My breathing was already heavy by the time I left the transition
area. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the marker for mile one; I
had been fairly certain that I had already run twice that distance.
Other runners started to pass me from behind. My vision was going
blurry with the effort I was expending. I hit the timing checkpoint
less than a mile later our lead was still huge. Chris and Alex
would tell me later that back at the finish line, seeing how
considerable the margin was, the announcer remarked how fast the
runner on team b.good must be. But they knew differently. At the
halfway point, Chris had told me he would give me a split. Instead,
when I ran by, gripping my shirt in my hand, lolling my head from side
to side, and gasping, he trotted up beside me with a stern expression.
"We have a huge lead. Pace yourself," were his words.
My translation: "you look like crap, just make sure you finish the race."
I knew that one of other relay teams was charging hard because I had
seen their runners coming the other direction on one of the
switchbacks. I tried to hide my suffering which was supreme but I
don't think he was fooled. Running briskly in the opposite direction,
he pointed first at his eyesand then at mine. Here, clearly, was
someone not to be reckoned with.
In the end, however, I held him off, and crossed the line, to the
relief of everyone involved. We had been leading by nearly ten
minutes when I started running. When I finished, we were up by 19
seconds. In a little over six miles of running, I had found a way to
squander more than nine minutes of our cushion. But I had found a way
to do something else, also, and that was to bring the gold home for
the team. A win is a win, I always say. And thank god for top-caliber
teammates.
(as told by Alex)
Nervous and pale, Christian took off in a cold sweat, one that was about to turn very hot and uncomfortable. My confidence took a swift fall from grace the first time I saw my teammate out on the running course. Gritting his teeth in agony, his head swaying hither and yon, he struggled to grind his way through the ten-kilometer course. Finally, Chris and I spotted him coming down the home stretch in his soaking-wet, heavy cotton shirt and huge athletic mesh shorts. Being the team that we were, we ran the final 50 meters together.
(as told by Chris)
Oh boy. Here we go. With a full 10-15 minutes at least on the next relay team, Christian set off to complete our quest for the holy b.good grail. The course is two laps and winds through the woods, so we wouldnt be able to see him much except for when he came back through the start/finish area after the first lap. I told him Id take his split times but forgot I had no watch. Instead, Alex and I headed over to the start/finish area, sporting our team shirts, and waited.
And waitedand waited. And finally, here comes this kid with a newly-shaven head, head also bouncing to one side, arms flailing left and right, and legs movingever so slowly. Having gone to school with him since 6th grade, I can spot Christians running gait from a mile away.
To hell with split times, the kid looked like he was going to die. I told him to pace himself, but I think he already screwed that over at that point. What I meant was, just hang on man, please god just hang on. And hang on, he did. We all ran together for the last 50m stretch, and Christian collapsed after crossing the finish in a heap of exhaustion.
But hey, its not like B.good is just another burger. Theres a price to pay for these precious things, and I think we managed to do it. Alex put on a great show for the hometown crowd (an Ithaca native), I got to pump out a good time for my first 40km time trial, and Christian sacrificed a little part of his soul. All for B.good.
B.good forever, mates!
-Alex, Chris, Christian. |
