The Rookie

This past Sunday, Edward, Brogan, our new friend Meredith, and I all participated in our first triathlon of the year. A super-sprint--300 meter swim, 11 mile bike ride, 2 mile run--it is a race that starts and finishes quickly. It is the first race of five in the Texas Tri Series, which conclude with the Longhorn 70.3, a personal favorite of mine. It was rainy and somewhat chilly that morning, not the most ideal race conditions.

I first did the Rookie in 2005, about one month after my first race at Ironman Arizona. Doing them in that order seemed a little backwards, but it took longer to swim in Tempe than it did to cross the finish line in New Braunfels. Every year, it seems, Edward and I do this race and swear to never do so again. Too intense, too short, too little time to get into a rhythm. Every year, though, we return to the Texas Ski Ranch to hurt for about 50 minutes.

There had been a great deal of build-up to this race. Edward and I always talk about last year's race at Marble Falls. We swam together, Edward rode ahead of me, and I gave my best effort on the run to try and grab him. He held me off, and we had a blast. Starting in the same wave this year at the Rookie had us reflecting on that race and wondering if we could replicate it.

It started that way. Edward and I positioned ourselves at the front of the pack in the water. We were in the "29 and under" division, so there were a handful of pre-pubescent children in there as well. Usually, such a thing does not bother me, but it irked me somewhat when a young boy--all of 12 years old, perhaps--scooted up to the front and stood right in front of me as the 10-second countdown began. With Edward to my right, the 12-year old in front, and the gun going off to start us, I remember doing two things simultaneously. First, I thought, "it's on." Second, I took a big dolphin dive, submerging this youthful triathlete in front of me in the process, and found some open water. Edward breathes to his left, I breathe to my right, so with every stroke we could see each other. We hit the turn-around leading our swim wave and holding quite a steady clip. On the home-stretch, we were caught by a couple of people, but all came out roughly together. Edward had a few seconds on me, screamed a few things at me (and made some unsportsmanlike gestures) as we rolled into the first transition, and we geared up for the bike right next to each other. I beat him out of T1, got on my bike, and that was really where our races went in different directions.

You can see in this photo exactly where we were and how spread out things were over 300 meters. Edward and I are sitting at the front of the pack (this photo is courtesy of Carinne Deeds, a master with the still camera, not the video camera. Either way, a trooper to be down there on such a dreary morning).

Edward and I played cat-and-mouse for a short while, then he pulled away and rode solidly in front, keeping a low cadence in a tough gear across some rolling hills and chased down some of Austin's finer triathletes as he did it. I'll digress here to make a point. I have never been a short-distance athlete. I don't have the sprint. Dad and I would often remark after an Olympic distance race how it felt as though we'd be getting off the bike right when we felt warmed up and ready to ride. That's 40 kilometers. This was 11 miles.

Back to the race. Edward rode so solidly and really put a fantastic bike split together. Last year, I edged him by about 40 seconds and we both finished in roughly 52 minutes. Going into this year, I had thought that we would both be right around 50 minutes, which called for a 30 minute bike time. Edward did exactly that--faster, in fact--and I rode a full mile per hour slower. Let me put that in perspective. In Ironman Florida, I rode faster (on average) than I did at the Rookie and that bike is over 100 miles longer (for those of you who are thinking it, yes, it does include my drafting penalty). At Longhorn last year, I rode a full two miles per hour faster. Both hillier, both windier. I simply need time to loosen up, I think. Either way, had I ridden my best, I was not going to catch Edward last Sunday. He continued this on the run (a 6:15 per mile pace), and finished under 50 minutes, 12th overall, and decimated his age-group. I trundled in somewhere in the 51 minute range, good enough for 32nd overall and third in my age-group. Brogan raced well, taking a full seven minutes off his time last year (fourth in his age-group), and our new friend Meredith, in her fourth triathlon, won her age-group (nothing new for her) and realized that she (like myself) is not a fan of the super-sprint either.


Now there are four races left in the series. The Couples Triathlon is in July, and it will be as intense as the Rookie. I have abut two-minutes to make-up on Edward and a fair amount on the rest of those who beat me last Sunday, but my goal is to keep it close, picking some people off, but dropping the hammer in October at the half-Ironman.

After the race, we all went to Uncle Billy's where we ate barbecue and drank some beer and talked about that morning. I talked with Brogan about how far he'd come and about how these signs were so positive on the road to completing his first Ironman this August. About how he was feeling, what else is to be done, and how he was planning to use these next months to get to Louisville in peak condition. I spoke with Meredith about her short evolution as a racer and how every race feels so different and so wonderful to her. We talked about how different distances bring different mindsets, and how she's looking forward to attacking the races she has planned. I spoke with Edward about arguably his best race to date. How he knows he can do this, how he can compete with anyone, and how this is hopefully a harbinger of how strong he can be this year. The gauntlet was thrown, and there are no excuses now.

Speaking of excuses, I attempted to lob some pathetic ones in Edward's direction to justify my performance. Here is a sample:

"It's tough to race in the middle of finals."
"What a lucky race."
"I'm glad you didn't have the bike issues I had."
"My saddle fell off for a large portion of the ride."
"That early morning rain really threw me off."

Edward responded, as he does, with a shrug of the shoulders and a, "Well if that's how you want to think about it, then fine."

After all of this--the race, some beer, and barbecue--we settled our differences as men. On the street. Engaging in that age-old game of Mashoonga--basically foam-covered swords. This took a great deal of energy, we enjoyed a few more beers, and we played until they broke. The Mashoonga swords lasted all of three or four hours and they were the envy of many passing children.


Up next: The Capital of Texas Triathlon, an Olympic distance race on Memorial Day.