Stupid.

i blame john yakabuski.

no, actually, i blame myself. next time, i will know better, and the best result of my life will be even better. thank you to joe, sean, and harold for not showing up.

this past weekend was the annual Barry's Bay Triathlon/Duathlon. it would be my third time completing the event, and probably the best pre-event fitness i'd ever had going into it. being a sinker and a half, i forgo the swim and run twice. my runs have been short but at an average easily-sustained 4:30/km pace, and my bike fitness reached an all-time high through WattsUp this spring, though i hadn't been there since the end of May. all things considered, this was to be a great race weekend.

then there was a ballet recital, scheduled for the day before.

i arranged a ride without the lady friend and children, to head up with my gear and some friends on friday. no recital. plenty of sleep. low stress.

then the friends bailed.

back on tap for the ballet recital, i bought tickets, scheduled things in, and resolved to drive 3.5h to Barry's Bay the night before the race. non-sleeping children. fitful sleep the night before. parenting the morning of. great race prep.

the morning of the race, i got up and ate the usual breakfast, wore sweatpants, made sure i had all my gear, packed the car, and headed, alone, to the race start. i got a fine spot on the rack, half-assedly set up my transition area, and set off for a warm-up run of the first 2.2k course. it was a great warm-up. i felt like rocky, overdressed and definitely sweating, headphones with good tunes in, and it was all i could do to not practice my jabs and hooks as i trotted along, dripping wet. my mom even honked as she drove by on her way to work. this was going to be a great race.

let it be noted that the circumstances of getting to this race, with all family and travel obligations/obstacles firmly in place, relegated the race to one without performance pressure. there was no way i could be expected to do well under such conditions, so i opted to just go out and thrash myself as hard as i could.

let it also be noted that my model of pacing is essentially that of a leaky bucket - i go as fast as possible to the finish, hoping that i make it before all the water runs out.

upon returning from my run, i got the pump out of the car and opted to not put my bike on the trainer. time was passing quickly, and there were only a few more minutes until the start. i walked over to my bike, started to ready the pump, and then

"WOULD EVERYONE PLEASE STAND FOR THE SINGING OF THE NATIONAL ANTHEM BY OUR MPP, JOHN YAKABUSKI."

great.

then:

LOOK! it's the girls and my dad! i should go say hi!

i hit the start line with a tool kit firmly strapped under the saddle and kanye in my head. my unilateral goal was to stay with the leader as long as possible. little did i know, it would be the whole way...

2.2k is not so far. it's not far enough to really get a pace on. it's not far enough to sound far. it's not far enough to have long strides or rhythmic breathing or a good conversation about nietzsche. it's just plenty far to drag out the agony of a slow build to excruciating lactic muscle burn. it is not far, but it is beautiful and painful.

we did it in 7.5 minutes.

after the first run, i fumbled through my transition, getting my first shoe on by the time the other leader had left, sprinting down the path to the start of the bike course, aero helmet on, carbon bike in tow. i was second, and i was screwed.

not wanting to lose too much of my advantage from the run, i got everything on, ran in my cleats down the path, up the embankment, and did my best cyclocross re-mount to the astonishment of the gasping onlookers. hefting my 165 lb. carcass onto the flexy titanium frame proved too much for the tool kit, which promptly fell apart and unravelled into the brake caliper and rear tire. i skidded to a halt, fell prostate-first onto the top tube, and clumsily jerked at the buckles to free the awful thing from my path of progress. no avail. as it turns out, i finally got the wretched object unwound, tossed it aside, and thanked the wife of the (eventual, and perpetual) champion for picking up the pieces as i scooted off.

the rest of the ride was blown.

it was a windy day, and i felt like all my power had gone into the run. i didn't feel like i had caught my breath until after the turnaround, and each hill seemed to be harder than last year. i definitely skipped the hill work i should have done long ago this spring. thankfully, the girls and my dad were all over the course, cheering and documenting and making me smile (i ride faster when i smile). top speed came to 72km/h. average speed was sadly 2km/h slower than last year, at the best of times.

on the way back through town, i railed the turns, thanked the corner marshals, and bombed in through the finishing straight. the second run was about to begin, but i had some extreme cramping in my calves that wouldn't go away.

much to my surprise, the cramps only needed a good run and they loosened up and it was time to get down to business. the girly-pink Garmin watch on my wrist told me i was going too slowly, so i ramped up my pace and hunkered down for the final 8k of pain. it was glorious. the road was beautiful. the runners on the course were unsympathetic. the volunteers at the water stations were wonderful and encouraging (i walked every station except the last one and had some nice chit chat as i went through). and i still managed to produce the finishing kick i've been practicing - upped from the usual 400m to 1k.

as luck would have it, i passed a bunch of people on the second run, and ended up just missing the podium. Barry's Bay doesn't have a podium for anyone other than the top finisher, but it would have been nice to be up there. i packed it in, headed home, and began a slow spiral of self-dissatisfaction based on my slow ride, and my slower second run. it was nice to almost podium, but almost is kind of worse than 'nowhere near', and if anything, my ride should have been faster this year than last. my lactic threshold had gone up 20 watts in three months. i could ride in the drops. it was windy, but it was also tail-windy... and worst of all, in answering queries from my lady-friend, i wondered if i had even gone hard enough. the runs were, without a doubt, all-out. the ride, i wasn't sure. and there's nothing worse than going to bed wondering if i had put in an authentic effort.

in preparing to ride to a meeting the next day, i took out the pump and straightened out the bent valve and stuck the pump head on and flicked the lock and stared at the gauge: 60 PSI. well there you go. for being a fucking idiot who doesn't check his own tire pressure before the one race of the year in front of a hometown crowd, you get 60 PSI. all that thursday morning training before the sun comes up, pushing soft, heavy tires up and down beautiful ontario hills. all those watts, straight into underinflated rubber.

even now, days after it all, i have to sigh in an effort to let it go. i hate being wrong. i hate being dumb. i hate having regrets.

i tell you one thing, though: i will never forget to pump up my tires again, and i will hang with the leader until i blow up completely. it's only 2.2 k.

covetous.

there are times when restraint is a difficult thing to do, and there are times when it is impossible.

today, it was impossible.

now, i have often prided myself on being a bit of a miser. i didn't start enjoying the expenditure of money until well into my twenties, and even then, it was always better when it was for someone else. i believe that this miserly outlook was derived from goal-based seasonal occupation and the lack of employment during my school year. routinely, i played sports and chased girls and did projects during the school year, then left the country to go landscaping in virginia all summer. i would usually return with a few thousand dollars for tuition, or a bike that cost as much as i had earned. spending money in the meantime was only wasting the dollars and cents that could afford me bits of titanium and cool acronyms. this was not acceptable. i saved.

today, i got paid, and i got paid half of what i thought i was going to get paid, and i still went out and bought a fancy camera lens. the lens is not new. the lens is from craigslist. the lens cost less than a hundred dollars/a week of groceries/gas to my parents' house/1 item of bachelor party debauchery/30 pieces of special pepperoni slices at Papa Ceo's on spadina. however, i still bought the damn thing and here's why: 1) for those times that i actually manage to get the camera out before it has been 'tidied' away, i need a wider lens (my subjects are wide..i mean..nice) 2) i started looking and e-mailed a guy and it was in my neighborhood and 3) i hate being a non-committal schmuck who starts transactions and doesn't finish them. it being a craigslist thing, and me being self-conscious, i showed up somewhat on time and was very nice and agreeable and paid the asking price with no attempt whatsoever at last-minute bargaining (i really hate that) and then i left and tried not to slam any doors and wake the guy's kids. the lens is great. there will be shots from it on this blog soon. i did not save. i did not restrain. i went and bought a lens and now i have to use it. actually, i can't wait.

i also started looking at other bikes. the serotta will never get jealous, because it is a sublime wonder of a machine, aloof in its classic nature and perfectly secure in its time-steeped beauty. it is not a race machine. it is not made out of plastic (mostly). it is traditional and gorgeous. but today, i started coveting things. fast things. things still made out of metal but out of..aluminum. and not just aluminum, but fast, custom-extruded aluminum. i looked at cervelos. there. i said it. i looked at cervelos. whatever. i got my ass handed to me in the ride portion of a short duathlon in my hometown last summer by one of my good friends and his cervelo. jerk put 2 whole minutes into me and that, after he had swum 750 meters in a lake! (while he was swimming, i was tailing the world champion of duathlon in a 2km run so we were almost even. but not really. swimming is sooo much harder than running. especially when one doesn't float. and we don't.) i managed to put a minute into my other hometown buddy who was also doing the race, and he was on his carbon trek pilot 5.0, so it wasn't all a loss. however, i trained my ass off last summer, for riding (definitely not running), and to have 2 minutes put into me was just devastating. i did, and continue to, blame it on technology - the cervelo is a faster bike.

so, cramped up in our moldy house in cold-ass toronto and lusting for spring (approximately a gazillion months away), i couldn't help but covet things that would make me feel the opposite of cramped and asthmatic. i researched bikes. i priced out cervelos in my size. there are none in the realm of my budget ($-23, 567). i tried to figure out how i could be racier, by buying what. and then i remembered: i already bought a lens; i already have a really nice bike; i already have a commuter bike; i should get out and ride and run in spite of the winter; buying stuff will not make me faster, especially when it's months before i can even ride it on a road. 

here's to spinning in blundstones on platform pedals in the dark to pick up a camera lens instead of groceries, and having phil liggett narrate the 'pavé' of east york toronto.