XTERRA Snow Valley, Part III: 21K Trail Run

. . .in American English, that's a Half Marathon. . .

The swan song for the XTERRA weekend was an  trail run, on hiking/cross-country trails across the street from the Snow Valley Ski Area.  It took some searching to find an elevation profile, but I found someone else's file from a race on Garmin connect.

Preparing for the race was mercifully simple compared to a triathlon: Shoes, shorts, shirt, ready to go.  Water bottle, holder, 310xt, iPhone and headphones, and HR strap were added as useful but unnecessary extras.  Karen and the kids dropped me off and headed for Big Bear Lake for a couple hours of fishing.  I was at the starting line with just a few minutes to spare.  Time for a quick limber-up, and then we were off. 

Doing some maneuvering at the start.

My legs were initially not so thrilled about the prospect of more hill climbing.  Even though I'd been drinking, eating, and replacing electrolytes religiously since the XTERRA Points tri yesterday, I still felt depleted and dehydrated.  It seems to take a fair bit more than 18 hours to completely restore and rebalance fluids and electrolytes in all body compartments.  No surprise there.

As intended, this was going to be a good opportunity to work on running in less than optimal conditions.  So I pretended it was an Ironman Marathon: focus on form; maintain a sustainable pace, and accept what my body had left without trying to force more out of it

It's not always easy on the ego to let people pass me.  But it is an essential lesson for racing in general, and far more so for Iron Distance racing, where going just a little too fast can lead to miles of walking during the marathon.  And to be blunt about it, I need work on it.  So I kept asking myself: Am I passing this person because there's some imaginary reason I think I should be in front of them, or because staying behind them is actually slowing me down? Unless it's come down to a sprint to the finish line, there's really no other good reason to pass.

Running efficiently downhill on trails is not unlike skiing the moguls.  It's important to stay balanced and centered, to land feet carefully and with the proper amount of force to guide one down the trail, and like with moguls, to keep one's vision 3 or so footfalls ahead in order to remain smooth.   Going too fast equals loss of control and a crash; going too slow and "overbraking" is actually more work than going the "right" speed.  There's a balance.  Luckily, I've spent most of my adult life running trails, so it was pretty much second nature. 

A fellow competitor who was running in front of me for awhile made a video of the race.  It's a good overview of the race and the scenery.  Plus, I'm in it: 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s8_f4hPpGsk&list=HL1375453728&feature=mh_lolz

Somebody's pet pig can be seen at 1:30.  The race itself starts at 1:44.  I'm running behind him at about 2:50 and I can't hear him because I'm taking acoustic inspiration from iTunes.  Then again at 4:30, and we chat briefly at 5:30.

During the last half of the race, I pushed the effort level up just a hair.  As with the IM marathon, this was not reflected in my pace.  But form stayed together.  I went 57 min for the first 11K, 63 for the last 10, for a total time of 2 hours and 54 seconds.  Just over 2 hrs.  :-\  Makes me wish I'd paid a little closer attention to the watch. . .

Overall, it was a scenic and fun run.  It was also a confidence booster in terms of how well I ran tired.  But the race awards suffered from the same logistical hassle as the XTERRA tri: I would've had to wait around for 1+ hours to get my little plaque for being 2nd in my AG.  I wanted to/couldn't/didn't.  It just seemed too selfish to make everyone sit around and wait again.  Our vacation had, up to that point, been all about the parents and what we wanted instead of the kids' fun.

But over the next week, we wound up doing OK in the kids of all ages fun department:  Speedboating around Big Bear Lake, hitting Huntington and Newport Beach, going to Disneyland, and checking out Street Skating and Freestlye Moto-X at the X-Games:

Mama's Driving the boat like a wild woman.  Family facepalm.

The teen is banking hard and fast, imitating mama.  Only 2 years and she can get a learner's permit!!  :-\

Huntington Beach on the iPhone panorama feature

. . .but that was last week.  Today was the first day of school for the older two, and today is the day that I officially start prep for Ironman Arizona in November.  We're right back into the full swing.

XTERRA Snow Valley, Part II: Points Triathlon

Saturday was the Points triathlon, the longer of the two tri options.  Karen and I were both excited to do our first XTERRA tri.  Karen was particuarly thrilled that XTERRANS, if you will, seemed to share her contempt for mornings.  The race started not at 5:30, 6, or even 7 am, but at a mind-bogglingly late NINE AM.  She and her slacker night people mountain biker cohorts would just be hitting their strides as I started to look for somewhere quiet and out of the way to nap. . .

We arrived at 8am, set up T2 at the bottom of the hill, and rode/walked up the 2/3 mile climb to the teeny, tiny lake and T1.  Setup was a free-for-all, so I just grabbed an available slot in the first rack, between a couple of really fast looking people.  None of them seemed to be setting out their elbow and hip pads for the bike leg.  And they all had clipless (meaning the ones you clip into) pedals.  Not this rookie.  Platform pedals only.  And my Hokas.  I'm not that good.  Yet.  If ever.

I felt pretty casual about the whole thing: It would be a quick swim, a few trips up and down the ski hill on the bike, and then a hilly 6.2 mile run.  Not much to stress about, and a good chance to work on pacing, nutrition, and of course, mountain bike skills. 

The swim was off fairly quickly.  I started off at a comfortable speed and didn't really get going until the last lap.  The expected hypoxia for a 7,000 foot swim was mitigated by my easy start.  XTERRA tri swimmers have a reputation, and it seemed to me not unfounded.  They were both slower and more aggressive: noticeably more jostling; pulling; hitting, a fair bit of it clearly intentional as opposed to the almost universally incidental/accidental collisions I've had in road tri swims.  A fellow competitior who had a hard time keeping his hands off my backside (repetitively) got to experience some of my old water polo skills.  >;-}  Per my watch, the swim was done in 14:30, about 1:28/100 meters.  Blah.  Pretty much IM pace.  Maybe I should have warmed up.  Or pushed it like the short swim it was.

Given the official swim split time, T1 took me about 2 minutes, which wasn't bad given that I threw on elbow pads, hip pads, a backpack, and sunglasses, in addition to the usual shoes and helmet.

Conscious of the fact that we had to climb the ski hill three times, I set my effort level deliberately at tempo pace.  My new platform pedals with little grippy knobs were money: they gave almost as much traction as if I were clipped in, but with the ability to stop myself from falling over given the high likelihood I would lose balance and/or need to clip out quickly. 

Falling on dirt shouldn't scare me so much, but there was that whole femoral neck fracture thing just eight months ago.  And on this bike. 

I'm going to need to get over that one.  Some MTB skills would certainly help that.  ;-)

I almost made it all the way to the top without walking, but I pulled out into a more scree-covered track to pass and spun out.  Overall, I had to hike the bike three times, all due to poor route selection or biking technique.  But mostly climbing went well.  With my feet free to move around on the pedals, I found that putting the midfoot, instead of the forefoot, over the center/axle of the pedal made a substantial improvement in my ability to climb.  This shouldn't be a total surprise, as I use midfoot position cleats on my road shoes.  Except when I leave them at home and need to buy new shoes for a race. . .

I seemed to be able to lean forward with greater ease, which made a pretty big difference on climbs with grades in the 15-20+% range.  With the same level of effort, I climbed past people with whom I had been merely keeping pace before.  Granted, they shot right past me on the downhill. . . 

Haven't seen this on a road course.  Yet.

In keeping with my general lack of MTB skills and experience, I went downhill cautiously.  Halfway down the first hill, the bike started feeling wobbly.  The rear tire had flatted.  I got to do a MTB tire change commando style, and like everything else, it was slow.  For posterity's sake, I hung onto the unsubtle culprit, at right:

This was, pun definitely intended, the nail in the coffin of any lingering competitive notions for this race, putting me abruptly back with folks more my speed, including Karen.  Like pretty much everyone else, she whipped past me on the downhill, but I caught up with her on the uphills. 

I wasn't knocking the cover off the ball in terms of raw speed, but neither was I cramping nor hyperventilating with effort on the climbs.  There was definitely a range of knowledge of pacing and nutrition out there, and if nothing else, I knew my limits well in this area.  Total time was 1:52 for 13+ miles.  Running speed.  Ouchie.

Bike leg elevation, HR, and speed

Exiting T2.  The dude's probably all like, whoa, check out the helmet-hawk on him.  (Photo by Elissa)

Speaking of which, the run was every bit as hilly as the bike, and even a bit more so on the 24% grade of "Diablo Hill," which everyone walked on the way up, and skid-slid-walked on the way down.  There weren't any flats to speak of on the run course, just ups and downs.  I worked on staying loose, efficient, and sub-threshold, even on the climbs.  Maybe some day, my mountain bike skills will improve to the point that I get off the bike with people as fast or faster than me in the run, but next I got to do something fun that I hadn't done since my first few months in road triathlons: Run down a bunch of competitors.  :-)

Woohoo! Passing skinny people! (Photo by Elissa)

Doing a new type of race was a good opportunity for me to contemplate triathlon and my relationship to it.  I didn't start off competitive in triathlon, yet here I am.  It grew bit by bit: Outswimming and running a few people down in my first tri; beating a bunch of skinny people; beating a few more skinny people in the next one; hitting an average speed on the bike over 20 mph; and then, suddenly and unexpectedly, being two spots off the podium at a World Championship qualifying race, waiting around for a roll-down slot, and thinking that what was once a distant and farfetched pipedream--qualifying for Kona--might not be all that unrealistic, or far off.  For the last 18 months, I have been deliberately and rather thoroughly dedicated myself to that goal, embracing my own competitiveness, even when rehabbing a busted hip. . . 

So it was certainly different to do a race in which I had no hope of excelling.  And I quite enjoyed it, which I think is a good sign.  My involvement in triathlon doesn't seem excessive to me, despite what your average Joe or Jane likely thinks about roughly 12 hours/week of S-B-R, ramping up to as much as 20 for the 2-3 months preceding an Ironman.  How this impacts the kids is another question worthy of another post, or two, or three.  Soon.

Karen finishes! Better-than-professional photo by Josh.

In terms of race logistics/support, this was an exceptionally well run and organized race.  My only complaint was that the race organizers wouldn't simply hand out awards: If we wanted to collect it, we had to wait 1 1/2 hours after finishing so Karen could collect her 2nd place in age group plaque.  This may not seem like much of a problem for most, but we spent not only our time, but our kids' free time/parent time/vacation time waiting around for us to collect our little codpieces instead of getting back to more family-centered activity, which wore thin for all involved awfully quickly.  One single quanta of race director flexibility on this one would have made a big difference in our kids' schedules, and correspondingly, our levels of parent guilt.

On the whole, though, it was a good race, a great MTB adventure, and a do-over.  Not to mention the piece de resistance: I won a lottery prize! Yes, that's right, helmet cleaner and deodorizer! The mind truly boggles to think of all those years I'd been living without, toiling under a grimy helmet, in blissful, stinky ignorance of the solution to (one of) my aesthetic problem(s).  But no more.  Now we'll get to be the family with the shiny, great-smelling helmets! 

Unless you want it and send me an SASE.

XTERRA Snow Valley, Part I:

Had fun pre-riding.  Kids rode too, as far as they could given the steep and sandy trails.  No, that's not a preemptive excuse, but the MTB is definitely a growth area for me:

One of the benefits of pre-riding, is, of course, working out the kinks.  One major kink I found turned out to be a residual Tucson thorn that flatted my tire. 

When I use a CO2 cartridge to fix a road bike flat, I pre-inflate to 20 or so PSI with the hand pump and check the tire fit before topping it off with the cartridge.  This leaves the new tire right around 100 PSI.  I attempted the same strategy with a MTB green slime tube and a 25 gram CO2 cartridge.  Apparently, this pushed the pressure too high.  Results were less than sublime.  Feel free to add your own caption.  We did:

"Rest Week"

Ah, a planned lull in training, courtesy of my new coach, Bill Daniell.  I've been beatin' the legs hard, and now it's time for the prescribed chance to recover, so they can come back stronger.  Eight mere hours of a possible 168 spent on exertion, and not even anything especially strenuous.  It's a virtual mini-vacation from all that sweating and straining, paddling and plodding, spinning and stretching.  By the numbers, this is about six more hours to do with as I see fit.  Doesn't that sound wonderful?

For most folks, maybe.

I, for one, happen to like all that exertion, and not just the fresh air and the joy of motion, but the neurochemical result: endorphins and adrenalin, my other favorite mood elevators, Mother Nature's very own Speedball.  Yes, almost nothing else makes my least favorite coworkers easier to put up with than a couple of heaping scoops of endogenous opioids and catecholamines. . . 

Love me.  Take me.  You know you want it.

But perhaps most of all, I love not having to think so much about what goes in my mouth.  More desserts, more snacks, less self-restraint required to get where I want. 

Or so I think. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that one of the few remaining low-hanging fruit left for me in the quest for triathlon excellence is getting a better handle on diet.  Even though I've done at least 5-10 hours/week of exercise for my entire adult life, my weight has vacillated within a 45 pound range.  For the last few years, I've been on the lower end.  But not the lowest, and not as light as I imagine I could be without losing strength. 

So dietary discipline actually has always appealed to me, in a "Mañana" sort of way.  It's a handy coincidence that this week is when Karen and I have committed to start writing out everything we eat in anticipation of a consultation with Grasky Endurance's resident nutritionist and triathlon coach Brandon Nichols.

Hey, hun! What's for dessert?

In addition to more core exercise, foam rolling, and hot tubbing (Did I mention house chores? That's the most likely use for any "extra" time I think I have!), this week will be an opportunity to be more disciplined and aware.  How hard can that be, really? I spend basically all of my active SBR time focusing on how to be smooth and efficient.  What's the big deal about a little more self-awareness?

Already, I've skipped that extra morning bagel, replacing with an apple.   Not so hard, at any given moment, one would think.  Except at night, when my IQ plummets to that of an australopithecus, right along will my will to resist wayward impulses to consume sweets . . . 

OK, it's going to be a pitched battle.

Ironman 70.3 St. George Race Report

. . .with implicit hip fracture update:

Many moons ago before the busted hip in November, I signed up for the newer, slimmer, better, IM 70.3 St. George, lured by the promises of a beautiful and challenging course less than one day of driving away from our base camp in Tucson, and by extra 70.3 World Championship slots.  After the hip fracture, I tried to withdraw.  But even with a medical excuse, WTC would only go so far as to give me $75 back.  Plus, Karen was signed up, and we figured it would either be a fun family vacation or a weekend date with someone watching the kids.  So I held onto the registration, fully expecting to do just the swim and bike only, as a rehab assignment.  Karen and I wound up going together, with my folks watching the kids at home.  Woohoo!! Date time!!  When we thought about it, we realized it had been 2-3 years or so since we'd gone away without the kids. . .

Race logistics were made somewhat hectic by the separate locations of T1 and T2.  Showing up an hour later than expected because we forgot Utah was on Mountain Time didn't help.  Leaving my bike shoes at the shop in Tucson that gave the bike a last-minute tune-up didn't help either.  A stuck chain and busted chain blocker seemed like the coup d'grace.  My lack of planning cost me a nap, and netted me an unexpected new pair of bike shoes and two panicked trips to Bicycles Unlimited in St. George, where the very helpful service staff totally hooked me up and got things back in order.

This is my ass, getting saved.  Mostly.  Except for the next time.

I thought I was done with pre-race stress, but not yet.

All went as planned until the next morning when I tried to top off the air in the tires.  The removable valve core at the end of the extension came loose and jammed up a pump that a fellow competitor had so graciously lent me.  I tried to knock the stuck part out, but the head of the pump just broke.  I wanted to get the pump-lender's info so I could send her a replacement, but she took the rest of her pump and left, or maybe stormed off, quickly.  Damn.

My superstitious mind noted, with a fair bit of relief, that this was the third bad thing that had happened to the bike.  My rational mind called BS, and suggested that I not take anything for granted.

So, the race.

Swim:
Equipment: DeSoto T1 Wetsuit and neoprene cap, silicone earplugs
Time: 28:19

I downed a bottle of Ironman Peform while waiting for the second M45-49 wave, which was at 7:54, 59 minutes after the pros had started.  This led to the wetsuit wee-wee equivalent of the "one cheek sneak."  I just kept walking around until the wet footprints dried up.

The water was 60 degrees, a temperature which seemed awfully cold in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho, but somehow didn't seem so bad in Sand Hollow Park, Utah.  My De Soto T1 2-piece wetsuit is absolute money--buoyant in the legs, flexible in the shoulders, more than sufficiently warm for every race I've done.  A neoprene cap and silicone earplugs helped immensely (don't underestimate the discomfort and vertigo that can be caused by a continuous flow of cold water right next to your vestibular apparatus and brain).  I was borderline hot by the end.

The wave start was unremarkable.  I grabbed a spot on the front line with no resistance or jostling.  The horn went off, and I took long, easy strokes, instead of sprinting.  I started out feeling smooth and a little lackadaisical, which was perfect.  Kicking was minimal to nonexistent, except for two instances: to wake up the legs at the end before I got out, and when the dude who hung on my feet for most of the way hit my feet a couple times in a row.  He seemed to get the hint.  There was often someone in front of me, and water visibility was good, so I didn't have to sight much, except to occasionally avoid meandering swimmers from previous heats.  It went pretty well for a first swim of the year, particularly given that I've been borderline neglectful of swimming.


T1: 3:30

It went OK, given the hassles associated with new, bike-only shoes.  I skipped the wetsuit strippers, which probably saved some time.  Cooking spray to the arms and legs before putting on the wetsuit helped it come off quickly.

Bike:
 Equipment: QR Illicito, Zipp 808 FC Clinchers, front and rear, Quarq Rotor Powermeter, SRAM red 11-28 cassette, QXL 54/39 rings, Garneau Vorttice Helmet with Visor, Garmin 800
Time: 2:34:45

I actually paid for this pic, which is why it's bigger and doesn't have a copyright symbol on it.

 
The bike leg is among the hilliest 70.3 courses around, but no more so than many rides around Tucson.  Lots of climbs and dives, with some rollers, and a couple of flat sections.  It was a little cryptic to decipher from the course map, but was well marked on race day.  It was listed as having 2552 feet of elevation gain, but my elevation-corrected GPS file showed 3700, which I think is more accurate.  Strangely, some of the pros' files listed on Trainingpeaks, which covered the same course and presumably used the same elevation correction algorithm, showed closer to 3,000 feet.

I started off the bike with higher than expected HR and lower than expected watts.  This is the last part of the swim to run transition: Waiting for the arms to cool off and stop sucking up so much of the cardiac output.  Eventually they did, and I settled into my planned 260-270W range.  HR remained a little higher than expected--high- instead of mid-130s.  But I didn't feel like I was pushing it too hard, so I let that be.  The course was beautiful and fun.  The "big climb" on the course--Snow Canyon--took a little speed away, but was easier than a corresponding 4 mile stretch on Mt. Lemmon.  Not a biggie.  The dive-bomb down the hill--reaching 46.8 MPH, was easy and fun, as the winds were minimal.  Finishing the bike course was little more than rolling down the hill to T2.  I let wattage bump up to 300 or so on hills.  Heart rate stayed sub-threshold.  Final numbers: Avg. Speed 21.71 MPH, NP 267, AP 257, VI 1.04 (with some strategic coasting), Avg. HR 139, Avg Cadence 84.

T2: 4:15

Slow, but there was no hurry whatsoever.  Mentally, my race was done.  I'd hit my expected swim and bike times, now it was rehab run city.  I checked my bike power results before leaving, and made a bathroom stop that I didn't really need.

Run:
Equipment: Race Tucson top/bottom, Hoka Bondi B shoes, Garmin 310xt, Headsweats Visor.
Time: 1:58:35

Again, the elevation on this course was more than listed.  I had 1,429 on the Trainingpeaks-corrected GPS file, which seems a little much, but the race guide said 709.  Others had mentioned 1100-1200 feet.

I wasn't sure if I was going to do the whole run, as I hadn't done a run over 8 miles since the busted hip.  So I took it a mile at a time.  Pace felt easy, so I worked on pushing my fluid intake a little, drinking 1-2 cups of water and perform at each aid station.  It remained easy until about mile 10, but at that point, all that was left was to roll down the last hill.  Aching legs notwithstanding, I finished without falling off the (not terribly fast) pace.  I was, surprisingly, 20th/213 for my age group and 250th/2000+ overall.  A healthy me would have been competitive for WC slots.   Like a true Red Sox fan, I say, "next year. . ."

Karen rolled in a little later, and we soaked up the post-race food and relaxation for awhile before hopping in the car.  Particularly noteworthy were the three-flavored (or at least three colored) rocketship popsicles, straight from childhood.  On the way home, we drove past Zion National Park.  Definitely a must-see for next year!

On the whole, it was an amazing race.  As friends and teammates alike are planning to do it again next year, we almost undoubtedly will, too.  Next year, and for all future M-dot races, I think we're going to show up at least two days before the race, instead of just the day before.  Logistical sanity cannot but help not only race results but enjoyment.

Results for team Quigley:

Rehab Update: Attitude Management

I've had the distinct pleasure of being able to start running again in a real way recently, and this is a good thing.  But since November 26, workouts have been, to mangle a cheater's quote, all about the bike.  I was back on the stationary bike within two weeks post fracture, and back on the real bike at about seven weeks.  Since then, bike power numbers have not just recovered, but improved noticeably, mostly because I've done little else but ride.  I'm hitting historical tempo level wattage in Zone 2, and threshold wattage with a tempo HR.  With swim continuing to be solid, it was easy to even imagine that my tri ability as a whole was getting better. . .

. . .until I started running.  Despite feeling as if my bike and swim fitness is pretty advanced, run fitness just isn't.  When running, I've gotten to the point that I'm moving pretty smoothly, but speed just isn't there.  What feels like a 7 minute mile is more like 7 miles per hour.  The recovery from a 45 minute to 1 hour "easy" run feels like what it should have been after a 10K.  And most vexing of all, probably 50% of the apparent wattage improvement on the bike appears to have gotten lost in sore running legs.

Somehow, I find this surprising, when by any rational standard, it shouldn't be.

I'm impatient to be further along than I am.  The hazard of this, clearly, is running myself into injury.  I find myself reeling in my unreasonable expectations, talking myself down from unreasonable disappointment, and trying to put it all in perspective.

So here goes:

--An athletic year in the life of a 45 year-old following a hip fracture is most reasonably devoted to rehab, not PRs.  But perceived improvement, particularly in something so reproducible and constant as bike power, has tempted me to think otherwise.  There I go again. . .

--And where am I relative to expectations? A couple months ago, I wasn't even going to bring my running shoes to 70.3 St. George.  And now, there's a decent chance I'll do the whole 13.1.  Perspective is the key to happiness.  Expectations are its enemy.

--First and foremost, triathlon--meaning all three disciplines--is an event unto itself, and all disciplines are interrelated.  It's a bit delusional to think that I'd improved AS A TRIATHETE merely by upping bike power, when I couldn't even run.  Even though bike numbers have taken it in the shorts of late, collective multisport fitness has come along dramatically by merely being able to run.

--Oh yeah, and am I remembering to have fun, and appreciate what I have, instead of dwelling on what isn't?

An answer, in the form of tonight's runset:

 

More LV: Red Rocks Loop And Surrounding Roads

Some days I roll out of bed earlier than I'd like, get my dragging butt on the bike with a slightly dragging rear brake along with dragging Gatorskin tires, Mr. Tuffy liners, and thick, puncture-proof tubes that are both highly resistant to flats and to speed, . . .but then have an amazing ride anyway.  Including this three hour ride, I've put in 11 hours of Ass-In-Saddle Time this week.  This is far and away more than I've done since busting my hip, and I'm pretty dang stoked about that.  Just 'cuz I like data, here's the Trainingpeaks chart:

Power and speed unimpressive but steady. No surprises there.

Data is fun, but beside the point.  The Red Rocks Loop, west of LV, was a beautiful ride, with many riders to spur one on.  The loop proper is in the upper left corner of the photo:

Start/Ending point was the Red Rocks Casino

I started the ride out by headlamp at oh-dark-hundred in order to get back to the conference in a timely fashion, as there were things actually worth attending this AM.   This allowed me to be there, iPhone in hand, for the dawn:

 The Red Rocks loop itself was beautiful.  The first four or so miles were uphill at a 5% grade, and was somewhat deceptively steep.  Numerous roadies were there burning up the hill, making me wish that I'd had a bit of leftover leg strength to try to outrace them. 

 The local tortoises were too smart to be out on the road, particularly the downhill.  I topped 40 MPH without pedaling, and could've likely hit 50 if I'd been feeling bold.

On the way back to the hotel, I got passed by a roadie.   Initially I raced him, but then decided to practice not getting hooked into racing people who are outpacing me, as I am wont to do in triathlon.  With a twinge of regret, I let him go.  He started easing up, and slowly the gap closed.  I stopped 8 or so meters off his rear wheel and worked on "not drafting" per triathlon rules.  It sure was notably easier to pedal when I was "not drafting" this close to someone.

After a solid finish, I freshened up and headed down for some education and socialization.