So my debut World Cup Triathlon is over, which is a relief. It was the hardest race of my life, and I’m really happy with my result. 17th – which is the second highest debut world cup finish by an American (Andy Potts was the first with 19th until last year when Ethan Brown finished 15th in Hamburg). Now that should have an asterisk next to it because only 28 people finished this race of 37 on the start list (one of those 9 to drop out was my teammate Kevin Collington) and most World Cups have closer to 75 starters. Then again, Hamburg only had 31 finishers, so Andy is probably still the most impressive. But that’s a big aside (there may be multiple in this post, as my head still hurts pretty badly from what may soon be known as the “Ben Collins” finish, in which the competitor crosses the line and passes out into the outstretched arms of some poor medical volunteer).

The swim was hard. It was relocated to the Mooloolaba River because the surf was too big for the ITU to feel good about (but it made for some awesome body surfing this week). The river had a strong current, which we fought for half of the way around an island. Actually, this may be the coolest triathlon swim since Hamburg. We swam out from a small sandy beach, then around this island, under a bridge, past a bunch of yachts, and back to shore. It was also the most aggressive swim I’ve been part of, and I’m wondering what it’s like with a full 75 man start list (there were 101 when I raced in Poland, and that swim may have been comparable to this with regard to aggression). Anyway, I came out of the water in good company, just ahead of Matt Chrabot, but behind Josh Amberger (a U23 guy that swims like a fish, but struggles with the bike) and his finned friends who formed a three man breakaway on the bike. I was with the big pack, but getting onto it was tough. I was on Chrabot’s wheel when I made the mistake of trying to follow his lead in putting on my shoe. I didn’t do it fast enough and he opened a gap that had me redlining until half way up the first hill. Ouch. From then it was actually pretty similar to the Momentum Multisport crit I did a couple weeks ago – just way faster. We went out and back with a strong wind pushing us and pulling us and a dozen breakaways failed (I went with every one I could, but nobody seemed to want Chris Gimmel to get away). Nobody would work together, and the lead group opened up 80 seconds on us by the end. I did make it into T2 first, however, by attacking on the last third of a lap. Nobody seemed to care if I wanted to kill myself for 5 or 10 seconds.

I lost those seconds in transition by parking my bike on top of my running shoes. Rookie mistake. Then I lost nearly everyone from my bike pack within 200m as they charged onto the course. Somehow Chrabot lead the entire first lap in under 8 minutes. I was nowhere near his pace, but when people started to fade I started passing. I worked my way past several guys and started feeling stronger and stronger as the run went on. Then I tried to surge with 1200 meters left. Too soon. I passed one guy, but he came back past me with 400 to go, and by 100 meters I was just hoping to make it to the line.

That’s when I stumbled and was carried into the med tent. Two IV’s, a dozen bags of ice and a few puke buckets later I was diagnosed with pulmonary edema, which means I have fluid in my lungs and may need oxygen on my flight to LA in the morning. Sweet, right? Good news is my temp never crossed 40, so I while I was definitely sick, it wasn’t heat stroke, and I may have saved a few brain cells for learning biochemistry and Spanish.

Kevin Collington (nope, I didn’t forget to finish that story) missed the bike pack and ended up crashing himself into the pavement on a roundabout. He may have broken his wrist, but he did two more laps before deciding that putting weight on his bars hurt too much to finish.

Also on the US medical (needing) team was Jasmine Oeinck, who also had a heat related collapse, but didn’t quite make it to the finish line. There were six American athletes, and three had medical visits. The doctor said it’s typical of the US, apparently he’s done a bunch of these races and always seems to find an abundance of sick Americans in his tent (he pointed out the table that Potts used when he was there a couple years ago).

For the good news, Matt Chrabot came in 9th (great job!) and Jillian Petersen came in 6th!! And Jenna Shoemaker (also a Garmin Triathlete) came in 14th. It was a great showing for a small USA team of first time Mooloolabers.

Anyway, top 20 was my goal, and I made it. I’m really happy with the race overall. I learned some stuff for next time, and I bumped my world ranking up into top 150. Bodacious, right?

Taigraphx has always been helpful to me, but today I had some outside feedback that confirmed that Taigraphx is the best graphic design company in the endurance sports market. Today was the race briefing and uniform check for the Mooloolaba World Cup (we race Sunday, which is Saturday night in the US – but more on that in a sec). The uniform check is where all the competitors show the uniform they will be wearing and the race officials measure every logo and its placement to make sure that it complies with the most recent of the ITU’s quite stringent uniform guidelines (if you really want to know it’s all in a pdf file here). They use little rectangles of the exact height and width allowed for logos and then take notes on any logos that do not conform. If the suit is deemed unfit, they make the athlete wear a blank suit with the ITU logo on it.

I was at the end of the line, so when by the time they checked me the officials had written a lengthy paragraph on every athlete’s uniform. Apparently nobody in front of me had passed each of the 10 stencil tests. My suit, however, was held up by the head official, shown to each of the other officials and referred to as “perfect.” She actually said, “This is perfect, the ITU logo on here is better than when we do it, this is how they should look.” I received a check, with no comments. It was like getting a term paper back with nothing but an A+.

For that prideful moment, I would like to thank Tai Blechta, my former roommate in Honolulu and the owner of Taigraphx, which is apparently the only graphic design company that can read a set of guidelines.

The race will be Saturday at 6pm Honolulu time, 9pm Pacific Daylight Time, and midnight in New York. It’s unclear if the World Cup series will be broadcast live this year, but I would recommend anyone interested in watching (or at least listening to the commentary) the race go to www.triathlon.org at those times to check out the live feed button.

Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve written about a new swim suit. A few weeks ago I wrote about a suit that Courtenay made for me from Splish that I nicknamed “Planet Unicorn” (left). It’s pink with unicorns all over it. At the time I was really excited because I figured it was so obviously weird that it would be a conversation starter (or at least give people the opportunity to poke fun at me). Not so. I’m renaming “Planet Unicorn” to “Anti-Social Suit” or ASS. In the past 5 weeks I have received zero comments about my unicorn laden suit. None. I may have caught a strange glance, but it seems the suit is actually too cool for school. I mean, people must be intimidated by how awesome I look. There’s just no other explanation, I refuse to believe that nobody would notice that I’m wearing a tiny pink brief with a dozen unicorns plastered neatly on my ASS. I’m curious to see the reaction in Seattle, where people already know me enough to say hello, but on this trip it seems the awesomeness of my ASS has actually made me unapproachable. Maybe before my next two month excursion Courtenay will help me make another Splish suit that isn’t quite as bodacious as my ASS.

This morning I went body surfing. The water here in Mooloolaba is really murky, which – I’m told – is from the cyclone that passed through here recently. The swell seems to be dying off because yesterday there were surfers getting barreled, but today was only about chest high. It’s a fast break and close to shore, which makes it really nice for body surfing. When the wave kicks up quickly you can catch it with minimal effort, and I managed to catch more than my fare share.

The beach culture here is somewhere in between Brazil and Hawaii. There’s more skin than Hawaii, but fewer people than Brazil. There are more sun tanners and fewer tans than either.

I caught a wave just outside a group of girls. I cut hard to the right in order to avoid landing on them, but one girl was sure I was going to hit her. She dove to the side but her bikini top didn’t get the memo in time and she came back to the surface topless. I tried to apologize, but for some reason she wouldn’t turn to face me. Maybe it’s an Australian thing.

Matt Chrabot and Kevin Collington were here when I got back form the beach, so the rest of the day was spent catching up on all the Olympic Training Center gossip (Basically a review of the latest YouTube videos to be included in daily OTC culture – something about a pork sandwich?). I still haven’t figured out which way to look at an intersection, and I’ve resolved to both wait for green lights and look in all directions (twice) before entering an intersection (regardless of what the signal says).

Kevin and I rode up the hill from the beach and took photos of  our conflicting nutrition sponsor cycling kits before he turned around (because he was out of energy) and left me to finish my ride alone.

(I’m sure having just gotten off a trans-pacific flight had nothing to do with Kevin turning back early)

Here are some things that should be more emphasized on travel brochures – or even mandatory reading to get through customs – when traveling to Australia for the first time.

[We’re staying right on the run course, this is the view from our lanai, which is fenced in.]

• They take customs seriously, so don’t try to save a cookie or sandwich from the plane for later (it will be taken), and clean the mud off your bike wheels because they really dislike it when you drag dirt into their country.
• Look right, left, right when crossing the street. This is because the cars to your right are the ones most likely to run you over first.
• When sitting in the front on the left side of the car, it’s okay not to have a steering wheel. Just relax and let the magic bus take you to where your going. (When the woman picking me up from the airport, Gale, found out that I had never been in a country where they drive on the left she exclaimed, “Oh my god, and with a woman driver too! This is going to be quite a scary drive for you.” I did what I normally do sitting in the front left – I fell right to sleep.)
• In the pool, you have to swim clockwise. Even on the easy hundreds and when doing backstroke. I’m a bit hard headed when it comes to this whole left side thing, which was helpful today when I collided head-on with another person in my lane.
• Even if you think you’ve gotten the hang of the left side thing, try not to fall into old habits. When you hear honking and see a woman’s middle finger – it means the same thing as at home – and you probably did something wrong.

[I haven’t taken any pictures outside yet, but I’ll leave you with a picture of the power adapter I jerry rigged when I realized that I had forgotten to bring one. Total cost: $1.00 (AUS) (for the outlet splitter that I destroyed) + 10cm of electrical tape.]

  Here are some pictures from Hawaii.

Left: Me with three sea turtles (including one that stands upright)

Right: My uncle Carl shows his amusement in the cockatiel’s new nest.

Left: I’m chasing fishes, and they’re getting away.

Right: This was the closest to a whale we saw on our little whale watching boat trip.

ALOHA!!!

I’m heading to Australia!!! I’m on the plane With my bags, despite having mis-remebered the departure time. I showed up 30 minutes before an international flight! Luck was on my side, and they waited for me. By Hawaii!!

Sunday afternoon I competed in a local bike race here in Hawaii. It was a criterium put on by Momentum Multisport (great triathlon bike shop) at the Kaneohe Marine Core Base. I wanted to race just because I haven’t been in a pack for a while, and the crit format of short loops is pretty similar to most ITU races. The race was an hour plus one lap (they start the timer at an hour, when it gets to zero they call “bell lap” and then the race is over), and it took me a big chunk of that time to really get into the race. We weren’t going that fast, but the accelerations out of the corners were killing me for the first 20 minutes. And then I attacked.

I got away with my friend Ray from Boca Hawaii. As soon as we were far enough ahead to really call it a “2 man break” my legs began to scream at me for choosing to attack so early. I silently prayed for us to be caught quickly and a little less than three laps later we were.

I went to the back and talked to my old roommate Tai for a bit, then we threw a short attack together. It didn’t work. I countered from the front of the group. Obviously, that didn’t work either. The thing is, when they caught me, the other riders would just sit on my wheel and slow down, rather than anyone countering or just letting me get sucked up into the pack.

So I threw a counter to my counter attack, which actually worked better than the first two (but still failed). After that we only had about 10 minutes left, so I sat back to see if someone else would work. The group slowed way down as the Tradewind Cycling Team guys tried to force this guy Tony to pull. Tony would swing wide and try to fall back into the group, but the Tradewind guys would sit on his wheel and keep him in front. We slowed to turtle speed.

That’s when I got bored, and irritated with such a stupid tactic (anything I find boring qualifies as a ‘stupid’ tactic). With 6 or 7 minutes I saw that the Tradewind guys gave Tony about a bike length gap. I threw down some watts and got right in front of Tony as he sprinted and grabbed my wheel. Somehow we managed a huge gap within the first straight away, and we continued to work together and extend that gap until about a third of a lap to go.

The last stretch to the finish was a long straight downwind stretch, so, rather than a sprint, Tony and I had a drag race to the finish. I nosed him out for the win! It was exciting, I had no intentions of vying for a win. It was really fun!

Here’s my synopsis of the life of a swimmer (and then a link to a hilarious – ok maybe just disturbing but well written – story at the end.):

age 3-6: learn to swim

age 7-12: swim for a local summer team and decide to do year round swimming

age 13-18: start sacrificing “normal” social experiences in favor of swim meets, while your identity at school becomes simply “swimmer”. (which for high school is better than anorexic, or idiot, but on par with nerd and just below slacker and basketball player)

college: continue spending most of your time swimming, and pass up on opportunities to expand your horizons in other extracurricular activities. After all, by this time all you really care about is whether you make NCAA’s or break that pesky varsity record that’s been looming over you from the record board during the past four years of practice. And dispersing your focus – even briefly – would ruin your chances.

Graduation: You have a bachelors degree and a chiseled swimmers build – huge shoulders, skinny hips – you make suit manufacturers look good. The downside? You never want to see a swimming pool again.

Mid 20’s: You decided to explore your other interests. Art, pop culture, acting, drinking, sex, drugs, smoking, a desk job, etc. – something non-chlorinated and less hard. Those graduation suits are getting tighter in the waist and looser in the shoulders, and the square shoulders in your sport coats now look ridiculous.

Late 20’s or early 30’s: The comeback. You realize that you hate being 40lbs overweight, miss the endorphins and the early morning social calendar. You join a masters program and lose some weight. The metal burnout is over, and you miss the sport. Besides, swimmers can’t do land sports competitively and you miss being good at something.

Here’s a comeback story I just read that cracks me up (and validates the title of this post). The author kept his name anonymous in the post, but you may recognize his style. The moral of the story? Drink a lot of water when your fantasies come calling.

I’m not so into the whole beef culture in America. When I was swimming in college I noticed that during longer meets like Nationals (5 day)or our conference meet (3 day), I would feel sluggish on days following red meat consumption. At the time I just stopped eating beef before competitions (a rule I still follow), but then I acquired a fear of Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE).

It happened when I was driving home from swim practice (I remember the practice, it was in Issaquah and I had just told my coach, Kyle, that I wanted to keep competing post-college and was thinking of buying a bike for triathlon) and listening to NPR. The interview was with a guy who had run a beef processing plant. He was talking about the methods used by big cattle companies, and how beef is processed. He basically said there’s not way to avoid BSE without completely removing beef from your diet. He went on to talk about how Organic and Grass Fed and the other forms of hippy beef are a safer bet but still not a safe bet. I went home and told my family not to include me in the dinner count if they were buying beef. This, justifiably, took some getting used to. For instance my dad decided to have beef for Christmas that year, which was one of three days I had been able to travel home from Hawaii. I didn’t eat it, yelling ensued, my determination became apparent, the next time I was home we had ham.

I also took a lot of crap from my friends. Including my roommate/teammate/friend/occasional reader of this blog, Mark, who – rumor has it – no longer eats beef. Consider me a pioneer, a trend setter, a forward-thinker!

That lasted for about 2 and a half years. One night during a hard training cycle I had a dream about a juicy rare steak, and I decided that I should have my hormones checked because obviously I was having my first period. I ignored the dream and it started reoccurring until I eventually gave in and told my mom (who I was again living with) that I wanted steak for dinner. She went to this little butcher shop in Seattle, A&J’s on Queen Anne Hill, and bought me a 6oz steak that cost $20. She reasoned, “If you’re only going to eat red meet once in a while, you might as well eat the best quality beef you can find.” And I’ve tried to stick to that logic. I still get the dream during hard training cycles. Typically it happens after hard run workouts, but pretty much any training that really breaks me down.  My body will fight back and ask for a nice natural does of zinc, magnesium, iron, and B-12. I find 6-8 ounces is plenty – I’d rather have a small steak of superb quality than a 16 ounce heap of cholesterol and mad-cow from Outback.

As for hamburger – grind it yourself or give it up. Call me paranoid, it’s just not worth the risk.

We don’t practice daylight savings time in Hawaii because Hawaiians are smarter than the rest of the country. Daylight saving time is unhealthy, and has also been shown not to improve electrical usage (the original purpose). I also discovered that Queensland voted down the use of Daylight Saving Time, which is cool because it means my race will be slightly less noonish (1:50pm, which would be a solar 12:50pm if Australia were on DST).

Meanwhile, the mainland US, except Arizona, is going the opposite direction from Queensland, and has made DST last about a month longer than it used to. The US now observes DST for about 7 months of the year, and of the 300 million Americans (or however many we have after the past few years of abstinence education-induced teenage pregnancies) I have yet to hear from somebody who a) likes the idea of taking an hour from our spring and putting into our autumn, or b) can give me a logical and intelligent explanation as to why we do it. Then again, my sampling may be biased due to the fact that I spend most of my time in a) the Northwest, where summer twilight lasts until after 10pm so you can’t get to sleep, or b) the Tropics, where getting home from work with an extra hour of summer daylight means waiting an extra hour for the house to cool down enough for sleep. (Notice my main reason for hating DST is that it messes with my sleep schedule?) I would be happy with year round DST, or no DST, but the switch is lacking in logic. I’d much rather have the extra hour during the winter when it gets dark at 4pm in Seattle.