King of Calgary Race

The key word in the name of Scott's made-up race is 'Calgary', as such a few days before we raced it was decided that cycling would be far too dangerous due to snow and ice conditions. Nonetheless, being the bull-headed competitive bastards we are the race had to go on.

We started the day at 7am. We had 3 heats of swims, seeded slowest to fastest. It was a great atmosphere as we were practically the only people in Talisman at the time. At meets I used to love swimming the 1500/1650 in the heats and not at night. It felt more honest to me because I thought the people there watching actually cared about distance swimming. Back in the club swimming days it was even more honest when you had to supply your own timer. No wonder I grew up to hate sprinters.

One of the things I was most impressed by was the splitting of everyone else. Some of these swimmers hadn't even done a 1500 for time before, but were splitting their 100's within two or three seconds of each other. Maybe I should've expected more, but I was impressed.

My first achievement of the day came about 15 minutes before we started. Given that it was a time trial, and a pursuit style race (If you got a lead out of the swim, you got that much of a head start on the run) I decided to pull out all the stops and wear an old racing suit. The fact that my trusty old TYR leg-skin fit me was kind of a big deal. It was really just a reaffirmation that I have lost some weight, as I mentioned previously. And more than anything it was a psychological boost.

As the four of us final swimmers warmed up I felt two things:

1. Awe for how much of a difference the leg skins make
2. Like a total jackass for busting out a racing suit
   

After a few hundred of easy warm-up I did a few 50's at what I decided "race pace" would be for the day. It's been several years since I've swum a Mile, so everything had to be done by feel - which for me is a strange sensation. I used to always have a predictable range of where I would end up, but that was in a different life.

Right before we started someone said "Go under 1-minute for the first 100, just to do it." I thought about it and figured why not? I'll go out hard but keep it in check so it won't burn me, then settle into a nice pace. Plus it'll be fun to go that fast off the start.

1. 1:01
2. 1:06
3. 1:07
4. 1:08
5. 1:07 (5:29)
6. 1:08
7. 1:08
8. 1:08
9. 1:08
10. 1:08 (11:09)
11. 1:07
12. 1:07
13. 1:07
14. 1:07
15. 1:07 (16:44)

So off I went. Out in a 1:01, fast but not under the recently stated goal of sub 1:00. Giggling after that first 100, I settled into what felt like a pretty comfortable pace.

Now, one of the things I always found weird about being a miler was how infrequently we actually got to do a Mile. In college it was 1000's every week and 800's were quite common during the summer, but both of those races are such different animals than a full Mile. So for me I always had the same internal recollections.

Right around the 200 it was always "Oh shit, I must've gone out too hard: My breathing effort is way higher! Wait a minute... I always think that right at the 200!"

And then, right around the 1000: "Oh fuck, it feels like I got punched in the diaphragm. Where did that come from? How am I going to deal with that for another 500!? Wait... That always happens right around the 1000."

So I guess over time I've developed those little milestones (pun intended) to let me know that my pace is right on check. It's nice to know they're still there for me.

I did speed up a bit for the last 50, just to play around, but due to a miscommunication with my timer/counter it ended up being an extra 50. Oh well.

And now for something completely different: Running a 10km.

We took a break for an hour or so between the end of our swims and the start of our run. Snacked, had a coffee, laboured over how warm to dress for the stupid weather. During the night it had sprinkled snow. Not a lot, but enough that the plow guy was out on the bike path doing his best to make our running course as clear as possible. The problem with plowing that little amount of snow though was that it really just got packed down and turned into ice. Scary.

I had measured the course the day before but somehow screwed it up. Instead of 2 x 5km loops we ended up running 2 x 5.425 km loops. Oops.

I started the run with a 2:09 lead before Scott begun his chase. In my entire life, I've only ever run 3 races. A 5km and two 8km cross-country races. 10km is a completely new distance for me, and I'm at a completely different level of fitness than I was for any of those races. So I had no clue. James (our master timer) lent me his GPS watch which would keep pace for me so I decided just to try and hangon around 4:00/km pace and try and end up around 40:00.

A few KM in and I thought that a hair over 4:00/km pace would actually be holdable. I checked the watch about every minute or two and adjusted accordingly.

The icey course was absolutely brutal. It was a pleasant surprise when your feet got traction and you didn't feel like you were spinning your tires. There were several spots were I had to slow down and put my arms out like a tight-rope walker just to stay upright.

Knowing that the course was too long I kept an eye on my watch and as it rolled over to 10km my time read 41:30. So that's the time I'll go with for my PB at 10km. My "official" final time for the run was 45:02. Scott caught and passed me with about 2.5km to go. So I ended up second for the whole race. I'm certain that in less perilous conditions I would've been passed by at least one other person, but it's Calgary.

So that was my "King of Calgary" race. It was a lot of fun, and hopefully next year we can add in the bike time trial.

I took the next day off completely and then went for an easy run on Monday. I was stiff on the run but it wasn't anything major. More notable was that as soon as I was done the run I felt like I had a cold. My body must've been winning the fight against the virus but as soon as I beat it up a little with a run the tides turned. Thank god for Advil Cold & Sinus.