Racing: 70.3, Texas Style

Austin 70.3 Race Report October 27, 2013 I signed up for the Austin 70.3 6 weeks before race date. The good (not) folks at the Miami 70.3 can be thanked for this as they refused my deferral from 2012 because I hadn’t signed papers they never gave me. Anyway, bitterness aside it was actually exciting to be heading to a new place. Reports on Austin were great, it seemed like everyone who had been, loved it and anyone who hadn’t wanted to go. We stayed downtown in Austin at a hotel the race organizers recommended, the W Hotel. It was the only one on the list that wasn’t out by the airport. The hotel was fab, so I was happy with the decision. Unfortunately, the race venue was about 30 min away at Decker Lake, through the ranchy lands of Texas. The distance wasn’t the problem, it was traffic that slowed the flow. Apparently the popularity of Austin is leading to some issues with the infrastructure. More than once I used the GPS to plot a course around the main routes to get to my destination. That brings me to race morning. The reviews of the race suggest you go early because there are only a couple of roads that lead to the parking/finish area, so while parking is plentiful, getting there is not easy. In the dark of the morning, our route took us “the back way”. It was smooth sailing until we discovered they were blocking every other route to the start, forcing cars to take one way in. We were early enough, and it was dark so we went around one barrier, my driver dropped me off right at the start area and he went off to join the flow of cars to the shuttle/finish/parking. I had plenty of time to look over my bike, load up my water bottles, hit the head and stand around. I was texting Tom, who was stuck in a massive line of cars trying to get to the parking area. Swimming was not allowed due to darkness with the late sunrise, so I just hung out and waited. The shuttles were dropping people off there was a flow of athletes coming in waves to the transition area to get settled. As race time drew closer the announcers began reminding people the transition area would be closing. It became obvious that many, many athletes were still arriving on shuttles. Word from some was that they waited over an hour in traffic to get to the race site. It was really disappointing to listen to the annoyance of transition area staff. They almost did not let in the last load of athletes because it was ‘closed’. Finally a decision was made to delay the race 15 minutes so that everyone could get in to their bikes quickly. I felt really bad for those athletes arriving late. It wasn’t their fault. Come to find out, someone in the traffic control area had blocked too many roads, so all the cars were stuck on one route making it impossible for people to get to the shuttle. At no point did it seem like the race organizers were showing any remorse or responsibility for this, and I know, if I’d been sitting in that traffic I would’ve been out of my mind. The stress level would’ve been so amped I don’t know how I could’ve raced well.

Anyway, race start finally rolled around. The weather was wonderfully overcast and cool. A thunderstorm had slid away over the early morning hours. I did 15 min of jogging and hill repeats on an empty road by the race area. I was warm, ready. The women in my wave lined up, we got into the water (warm-ish) and I took front row ON the start line buoy. Prime position. No fear. A duck swam right in front of us pre-start, which was sort of surreal. Then the cannon sounded and we were off. Immediately I felt great. How often can I say that? It’s like everything was perfectly lubed, nothing hurt, air went in and out smoothly. My arms felt light, I had great purchase on the water with each pull, my lungs were full with plenty of O2. The woman who lined up next to me was in a sleeveless suit as were many others, but it made it easy to spot her and her blue cap so I just kept swimming hard, keeping her in sight. It was easy to go until we started catching other waves, which happened quickly, and it took a bit of weaving and dodging to navigate the throngs. Still I maintained a mostly direct line to the right of the buoys. They have a lot of buoys at this race, which is GREAT. I came out of the water with sleeveless suit woman and we ran up the long grassy incline to transition. The wetsuit strippers rocked. I had 2, one got the sleeve over my Garmin and the other made sure my chip was under and they yanked that thing off so fast. I was grateful. Another note, race officials warned about ‘goatheads’, spiky burrs that apparently pop tires all the time. Rain earlier in the morning meant they were knocked onto the ground. They also warned about your feet- one burr in your foot means a bad race day. So, I jogged gingerly up that slope, hoping…. into the slightly muddy transition area (no shoes on pedals unless you are a pro), pulled on my helmet and shoes, threw my bike over my shoulder (don’t roll it until the road) and off I went. Sleeveless woman was right by me in the racks, so I saw I beat her out of transition. I suppose we looked a bit like a cyclocross race at that point. All good and fine until I realized that the mud in my cleats wasn’t coming free and my shoes wouldn’t clip into the pedals. While I rolled, kept reaching down and pulling on them with my fingers, banged them on the pedals and finally the right one clicked in. The left one wouldn’t, I kept riding and periodically trying to pull mud out. I was quite dirty. Finally it went in. Shortly after I saw a person with a hose spraying people’s feet. That might have been wiser a little earlier. Anyway, time to get in the zone. The roads felt a little slippery so I did a reality check (Carrie, you don’t know what roads are like in Texas, this feels slippery, slow down). I took the corners carefully at first. Later I heard the slick roads took out some pros, there were some ripped suits and bloody road rash to be seen on the run. I remained unscathed.

Notables from the ride: I was using a new Nathan aero bottle. I couldn’t fit my Garmin on its’ bracket so I kept in on my wrist. It bumped the bottle and switched to transition just around 4 miles in, so I had to reset the entire watch, put it on bike mode, and just left it there for the rest of the race. The roads were rough. Texas uses chipseal on some of the surfaces. This can only be explained as the kind of bumpy that rattles your brain, neck and water bottle. My bottle ejected itself from the aero bracket once (caught) and then the whole bracket popped off (saved). I’ve since returned the Nathan bottle with some suggestions for improvement. Due to that bottle, I assume I drank around 2 full bottles of Powerbar Perform but who knows, because there was fluid spraying from the bottle on the bumps. In hindsight, I did not pee for 8 hours, so that means…..? I tried to enjoy the ride. Similar to the effortless nature the swim, my legs felt like air, I could pedal harder, it didn’t matter. The course is NOT hilly like they say, rather it does roll a little bit but with an overall elevation gain of around 700 feet you can understand there is no serious climbing. I probably got off the aerobars once or twice very briefly. That’s a lot of bumpy, aero riding. I looked for cattle, none. I looked for cacti, 2. I saw no sunflowers. I saw one flash flood area with a measurement sign that went up to 8 feet. Yikes. I watched one guy cheat worse than I’ve ever seen anyone cheat, he drafted off another guy forever. I watched them on the long, flat roads for a long time, he just floated back there. That pissed me off. By around half way I’d passed most people since I was the 4th wave. I passed two pro women. I was alone fairly often. It wasn’t bad, just not particularly exciting, but that was ok. No flats, no problems other than the water bottle. I was happy to come into the transition area and get on with the run.

Imagine transition 2 as you’d imagine Texas big. With around 2300 people in this race, the second transition area stretched out very, very far. I knew roughly where I’d hung my bag the day before but now visualize a long rack with bags that all look the same and a slightly light headed person who just swam and biked clunking along in bike shoes on pavement. There was no one in the area. Literally. Well, one other guy by me found his bag. I wandered down feeling like it was a dream. I started counting down the numbers on the rack. I needed an identifying mark, but it was just bag after bag. Finally I found where my bag should be, sort of, there was some old numbering too, but I pulled open the bag on my number and it wasn’t mine! Panic. Luckily mine had just been slid a little, and finally, I found it. Stuffing my helmet and shoes in the bag I put on my socks, (biked barefoot- too muddy and warm) and shoes, race belt and visor and stuffed some salt pills into the leg of my shorts. Off I went. Now my legs did not feel light and fresh. My high hamstrings felt like they were pulled tight. My stride was short. Mentally, the thought of three laps of this treeless, slightly humid course was bringing me down. All the pros were on the course when I started, lap two. I had no data from my Garmin so my plan was just to run how I felt. I do that anyway, so it didn’t really matter although early on I would’ve liked to see what that was coming out as. I felt very slow, and in retrospect I was not very slow at first, so if I could’ve seen that data it would’ve helped. I pulled my Rev 3 visor down low and just went to that blank place where it is possible not to think about the fact that there is 13 miles of this ahead and ran. I took salt, did the combo of sports drink, water on the head at the aid stations, added in some coke at mile 8, and ate my Clif Bloks as I went. My legs were just not zippy in any way. It’s ok. They were moving. By lap three, (HOORAY!) the course was packed. It’s a funny course, part of it on the trails by the lake, the rest on open road. The hilly climb back to the finish area sucks but at least all the people are there to cheer. When I climbed the last time, I was slow. At that point part of me didn’t care, I had no sense of whether someone else was near me. I was just going. It was so crowded and of course some people walked. It was different than when I was out there with the pros, whose performance inspired me to go faster. I got to the split for lap/finish and entered a wide, empty run. NO ONE was there. All alone I ran, I looked back over my shoulder and no one! So, I enjoyed it. No rush. The race ends INSIDE a stadium. They open the big door and have people run in. Novelty I suppose, but it was so empty because I was rather early so it felt a little hollow. A handful of people cheered, I crossed the line, and that was the day.


Very quickly I hit the massage table and because there wasn’t a long line, I got a fantastic rub down that I think took the edge off my calves, neck, back and hamstrings. I won my AG by around 6 minutes. I was 10th amateur female. I beat a few pros. All good. Really, the reason I am most happy with this race is that I worked hard to get there. I started the season hurt, I struggled with plantar fasciitis (I still have it), my stride was rough. In July I had an ultimate Frisbee fall that left me with a concussion and a back injury that had me in the ER. Coming back from all of this required a dedicated focus. It was really, really hard at first. Everything hurt. I dotted the “i”’s and crossed the “t”’s . I dropped to race weight. I pushed through some really hard workouts that were not always what I wanted to see. Runs where I couldn’t hit the pace. Rides where I felt the lack of summer riding. Swimming when it hurt to push off the wall because of my back injury. I signed up for a few running races and tris to make myself go to that place of pain, whether or not I liked the result of the race. I kept a good attitude. Methodically I stuck with it, I didn’t quit.

Others deserve thanks. I did the work, but I would not have without them. My long time coach Kurt who among other things, at key moments put up workouts that I didn’t think I could even do- which helped carry me through that patch from injury to fitness. Colleen Monroe, chiropractor to the stars, sent me off for x-rays and talked sense into me when I was concussed, saved me from a drawn out injury. The boys who bike with me, well there is no way I go out for a 60 mile ride or an early morning interval workout without that motivation. Thanks to Jeanette and the masters program at the Kiwanis pool and my swim buddies who show up to suffer gloriously. And Eric and my Cape masters pals, to suck chlorinated air and crack ourselves up for the last few weeks of my swim training. Of course the runners too, super fast Erin dragging me up to run with Joanie and the fastest women, where all I can do is hope to hang on the back and survive. I loved all of this. To me it is what makes sport great. We have ups and downs but we persevere. To be as low as you can be, hurt, out of shape, daunted by the tasks ahead, and to step by step, obliterate the obstacles that are keeping you down. The results aren’t always exactly what we want, but the journey that takes us there is of as much relevance as our success as the end.

White Mountain Classic 30K January 26, 2013

The day of the race rolled around after a week of COLD temperatures. It promised to stay chilly with temperatures reading '0' as I headed into the Mt. Washington Valley. The morning began inauspiciously with a searing headache that seemed to have haunted me off and on through nearly three weeks of being 'sick'. I medicated with a gigantic cup of coffee sipped over the course of my drive to Jackson. I have come to these decision points with racing in particular, where I make the decision to do it despite what I could call legitimate excuses, and then put on blinders and block out any negative thoughts or questions. It was a good way to start this particular day because somewhere in my muddled brain I put the drive at around 1:25 which is about 30 minutes UNDER actual even driving like an insane person down mostly empty roads. My adrenalin fired up as the clock ticked away and I zoomed along. Pulling into Jackson just shy of 9am gave me enough time to get my bib, hit the bathroom, pull on my ski boots and head out. The guys at BNS had already waxed my skis with some mixture of magic powder topped with binder and Universal kick wax which they thought would work. I trust them, so I decided it would work. It had to, because there was no time to go messing with it. Donning my puffy coat, I stripped down to my racing tights, wore the fat lobster mitts and a Smartwool neck warmer and took my insulated bottle of warm Powerbar Perform over to the golf course start area. The announcer was chatting away and people were in various states of preparation. It was cold! But the sun was out and there was no wind which was a definite improvement over other years. I had about 5 minutes to 'test' my skis and felt I was already warm because of the sweat I'd worked up driving there. Warming up seems to be no problem for me; I can be at full tilt in a very short period of time.

The course was a fun one. Start with a loop and a half around the golf course letting everyone sort themselves out a bit, cross the road, then meander through the golf course a bit more and head into the woods for the rather lengthy and steep climb up the Eagle Mountain fields. At the top, one more road crossing and then 3 laps that consisted of some rather vigorous ups and downs on the Wave (serious stuff) and a mega amount of double poling all around the fields finishing with a steep little climb towards the Eagle Mountain House and then down for a repeat.

I lined up in the front third not wanted to repeat the experience of a few weeks back when I raced a 5K skate with the college women on the Wave and I politely slowed down and let so much of the pack in front of me that it necessitated herring bone for nearly 1kilometer. I didn't want to get stuck, but I also didn't want to get run over because the key point here is that I had not been on my classic skis for TWO YEARS, which marked the last time I did this race. That is probably not good training, right? Here's the funny thing, this happens every year. And somehow, I go out and bust my ass and finish somewhere in the top 4-7. Every time. And the thing is, nordic skiers generally SKI a lot. I look at the people around me and they are from Vermont and the mountains of NH and they are coaching skiing or training on snow... But I swim, bike and run with occasional strength thrown in. This year I did actually skate ski four times before the race including one race, so I guess that was an improvement. The gun went off and it was the usual mass mayhem of people double poling, tracks reduce and athletes are left on the edge or jumping into the track in front of someone else. It was a polite start though, patience ruled, so everything went off well. Minus a little side stepping and a few jerky spots it was no time before we crossed the road and headed towards the climb that always hurts more than any other part of the course. I had to hit it with a little 'V' because I was slipping a tiny bit and about half way up the first hill noticed that I was sucking mega wind and I could feel the cold sear of it in my lungs. Ouch. We worked pretty hard up the hills and with great happiness saw the road crossing and at that point I went into my deep breath, relax, time to go mode. The first lap was solid. I worked it hard, the uphills of the Wave were rough and a V run was required in spots. Luckily my pro downhill/cornering skills are quite useful on the technical nature of the loop and also, I'd done the loop three times when I was in Jackson a few weeks back to race. My skis felt really fast and light and so all was well. Passed through the feed station two times before heading back into a second lap. Drinking with big mitts is hard, so I didn't bother yet. Second lap, settle. Seemed all good, climbing, tucking, working. Back into the fields, double pole madness, skipped the drink again and headed back up for the last mega climb. This is where arm fatigue became a factor. My triceps were crying. Every time my ski slipped out behind me I jammed the poles in for traction. It required a re-focus on core, clearing my mind and pulling my hips forward to keep from kicking out the back. On the third lap I was passing slower people who were on their earlier laps and as I side stepped one guy I just caught an edge and fell forward. My arms went out in front and I landed in push-up position and felt my arms scream. I almost couldn't push myself back up. This is somewhat humorous as it is happening... the voice in my head is going on about how stupid that was and how maybe if I trained some I wouldn't be having this problem. Anyway, I did get up and kept going but fatigue was there, no doubt. I did grab a drink the next time through the aid station and it was almost hot and felt so good going down. Addressing nutrition on these longer efforts would make sense. Eating anything while out in the cold and moving forward seems impossible. A friend showed me GU all over her front after the race, apparently she tried to eat it and had minimal luck. Last part of the golf course, there I was double poling as hard as I could. Snaking behind me I could see a few guys, one from Maine who I knew, and I just didn't want them to catch me so I kept at it. The last time up the nasty hill to the Eagle Mountain House required a rather deep dig into my Self, but after that big DOWN, tuck and finally the Lap/Fin sign- always my favorite to turn to the fin side and say good bye. There were still a few K left, but they involved some scary down hills (the ones we had to come up first) and did I snowplow down one of them? Yes I did. A few seconds of that is better than falling. Emerging onto the golf course I put whatever was left in the tank and flew on over to the finish. 1:44:54. The first Maine Nordic finisher, first in my AG and 7th woman overall. The young people win. I think they train too. As always, Nordic skiing rocks. It's all about being super smart and reading the terrain, maximizing glide and technique, breathing deep and just pulling every ounce of muscular power and endurance from your body. That said, I was useless the rest of the day. Sign of good race.

Ironman Mont Tremblant 2012

The inaugural Ironman Mont Tremblant fell on August 19 this year. I signed up last year with the desire to figure out what sort of nutritional changes I could make to be coherent through the last half of the marathon. My training this season was different than in the past. I had less quantity and much more quality. I think I can safely say I did very little fluff along the way. Having done two Ironman races in the past the newbie effect was gone. I knew I could finish it and the key was figuring out how to go faster, and perhaps more importantly, to effectively fuel. Race morning dawned clear and chilly at 47 degrees. My friend Alison and I planned to head to transition at 5am, get marked, stock our bikes and then head back to our rooms for stretching, bathroom, final prep- and then to make our way to the swim start at 6:15am. All of this went well. I loaded my three bike bottles with Powerbar Perform, pumped my tires with a borrowed pump (a little sketchy), got marked and headed back. There is something so simple about the Ironman distance race as everything is already there, packed and organized. At least that is the plan. At 6:15am after I stretched and chomped on a powerbar, we met back in the lobby to walk to the race start. We were in a massive flow of people down the road. It was insane. My adrenalin was starting to pump and I did my weave and duck and we wound our way to the beach, zipped up the suits, and went up to toe the water's edge. Having never done a beach start in an Ironman, I will admit now that I was petrified of what might happen when 2600 people charged into the lake on foot and dropped to horizontal. So that I didn't have to find out, we stayed in the front. The crowd was crazy! The military did a low flyover in an F16 for the start of the Pro wave. It was awesome. And then they did it again for the AG wave and we were off. I swam as fast as I could for about 50 strokes. People were all around me instantly. I found myself on male feet with no way to go around so several times I just chilled out and swam- telling myself that wasting energy to go around would be stupid. This went on nearly the entire way out to the turn buoy of this one lap course. I stayed a little wide on the buoy but it was all fine. Around the back side of the course and then around the next turn and I was on my way home. I felt rested and pumped so I played a little game, started passing people, catching feet, floating for a bit, passing a little more, until the end was in sight. It got very shallow so we had to stand up and run the last section. I was looking at the clock and seeing that I was in the 1:02 range, but the run through the water to the mat took long enough that I was just over 1:03. I was good with it- a PR even with the running in and out of the water. The jog up the chute to the transition area was long- but carpeted. Also crowded with people. The people lining the sides were insane. It was so loud and spectators were going crazy- I couldn't help but to smile and enjoy the run up. Once in the tent there was plenty of room. Volunteers grabbed my bag and actually put my socks on my wet feet and then my shoes. I probably should've done that myself, but I was buckling up my helmet and sticking nutrition in my pockets. Jogged out to my bike rack, couldn't find where it was, the racks near my bike were FULL which indicated that I was one of the early women in my AG out of the water (I was in the largest age group), and I took my bike and headed out onto the course. The course is awesome. It is made up of two out and back stretches which at first sounds a little boring, but not at all. The first section is all highway. An entire lane is closed down, the roads are well paved and wide. I did find that for much of that first section I had to do some coasting because frankly, many people ride like idiots. There were guys passing on my right, guys passing on my left then slowing a lot, guys riding in little packs... I saw a lot of motorcycles but not any violations being handed out. It was great when the first big hill came up on the return trip. It is very long and significant. That broke up the packs and I was finally able to start riding my own race. Could I have ridden this first 40 miles faster? Probably. But it would've been a lot of pounding pedals to escape reckless riders. I knew just about all of these guys were going to drop soon. There was one woman too, in pink compression calf sleeves who kept on passing me and had the worst pedal stroke. It was annoying, but I let her go a few times too and once we hit the big hills, I never saw her again. Anyway, after the highway you get this cute little excursion into a town which has a quaint main street you cycle down, then up this rather painful little hill, around a little lollipop and back through town. Apparently this was added because the town wanted the race to come through. It's a diversion and helps break up the 112 miles, so it's ok. After that you're on the hilly trip back toward the start. Of course you have to turn off and head out to the most difficult part of the course an out and back with some very serious climbs. As a person who loves to climb, I thought it was great but admittedly I was also loving my granny cassette that I put on for the race. I rode it all comfortably, nearly all in the saddle and enjoyed some free speed on the downhills. It's a bit like a rollercoaster so if you enjoy up and down over flat, it's the perfect course. And then....you do it all again! Second time was great for me. I had the course just about to myself and rode exactly as I pleased and enjoyed lots of peace and quiet and eating and drinking. And the nutrition piece. I had set my Garmin alerts to remind me when to eat. And now I admit my biggest error. I set the alert wrong. It was going off to often. Suffice it to say I'd eaten everything minus one gel by 80 miles. I wasn't worried, I had extra in my pockets, but I was ill. My stomach felt disgusting and full. I had to back off for awhile which was also fine, but I did back off on my fluid intake which was actually essential as I was counting on my sodium from that source. I probably came up about 48oz short in the end. I was sort of laughing at myself out there once I figured out what had happened. The key for me was that my head was clear, my energy was solid, I was just a little, um, fat. Still, rode it all well until near the final turnaround when after a day of very 'gentle' shifting (my chain had been falling off the outside occasionally) my chain dropped off the outside!! I was rather irritated but hopped off, got all greasy and put the sucker back on and headed off again. That was my only mechanical issue. Probably about 1 minute worth of time lost. The ride back on that last stretch is absolutely fun plus you get to crank past all those athletes just riding up the big hills and feel smug and accomplished. I zipped into transition, volunteers grabbed my bike, I left my shoes on the pedals and started to 'jog' to the tent. My legs felt horrid. I'd been dealing with a significant hamstring problem so I was worried, but this felt more like hip flexors and tight hips with just a little bit of hamstring play right off the bike. I hobble jogged into the tent, popped on the running shoes I should not have worn (too new), grabbed a banana and set off. Quick pitstop, ate the banana and tried to ease the legs into the run. The first miles have hill- and I was hitting around 8:45 which was about a minute slower per mile than I'd hoped, but I just had to let the legs do what they could do. Very soon I noticed my head felt a tiny bit light so I popped some clif blocks. My fingers were tingling. This made me nervous. I pulled salt from my pocket and popped two at the first water stop. I drank at every stop- powerbar perform until around mile 20 when I added in Coke. I really drank some too. I felt better throughout the run, but my legs were definitely NOT planning on doing anything other than a rather pathetic plod along. At some points I focussed on picking up my knees and that helped but the hamstring was a little rough and that whole side was landing on the ground at a funny angle and I knew blisters were forming on those toes. Anyway, the key for me on the run was just to keep running and drinking and eating so I did. I had a plan to eat my shots every two miles and I did. The tingling in my fingers abated a bit and then would come back but it never got out of control and I kept my head clear the whole time. Going uphill was slow going, but again, kept up the run. So, I ran a 3:54 which in the end is a PR for me on the IM course and I am kind of amazed. The run course is forgiving in that you run about half of it on an old railway bed that is made up of some sort of hardpack gravel. Perfect surface and flat. Aid stations were stocked, volunteers in droves and plenty of stuff to go around. Because it is out and back twice you see people the whole time. I saw the pros go by. On my second lap many people were starting their first lap. That doesn't always work in my favor because they are often going slower so I have to keep on myself not to slow down too. The very end of the run is up a hill and then down a cobblestone path through town and it was totally cool and people were yelling like crazy making everyone feel like rockstars and I threw my hands in the air, saw my time of 10:39 and thought how the hell did I do that? A PR of over 30 minutes without ever digging deep into a pain cave and with actually ENJOYING the day. Two volunteers took me out of the finish area, I was a tiny bit wobbly and they handed me off to a young medic who was over the top kind and did not leave my side until she was totally sure I was OK, which I was, so I headed out to find my crew. The only downside to the day was my gut but this is nothing new for me. I can't eat for a long time after events like this. I'm always curious how people are sitting around eating pizza right after they race. I went back to my hotel, showered, started taking in water and put my feet up for a bit. A couple hours later I was better and went out to have a small amount of food, still not really hungry, and watch the midnight finishers. Totally rocking down there, we had a great time. Slept well that night, woke up the next morning and started eating non-stop for about 12 hours- raw and grilled vegetables, sushi, potato chips... weird things I was craving which I tend to just go with. And then the drive home. In summary: Do this race! Amazing in every way...town, volunteers, party, location, course... The only thing that sucked was the dinner/meeting on Friday which I'd never do again as it took hours and hours and had to be in French and English and the food was minimal and poor and by the time they got to the info part, we were all zoned out. So, skip the dinner unless you've never been to an IM and you want to watch the same promo videos they show at every one. Two cool things at the meeting- the drummers- sweet! and this guy who did the 'original' Ironman in his cut-off denim shorts 34 years ago. And he raced on Sunday- 16 hours! He was great. I finished 3rd in my AG- only 2 minutes behind second (yes, easily could've made that up on bike) and 10 minutes off first. More than met my expectations. And perhaps most importantly, I really enjoyed the day.