Africa's Toughest Triathlon

Or, the race that never happened.


When all is said and done, the history books will be written, but I won’t be in them. My second race in two weeks (there would eventually be 4 races in 5 weeks) went very well but no one will ever know. Because when anyone goes to look me up, they won’t find anything.

Backtrack several days: It is hot, smoldering, and my whole family is with me. We shot up to Pilanesberg, this time not too look for animals but to stay close to the start of the race at Sun City. The parking lot was full but the start line was a 2-mile-ride away. Once in transition, I looked left and right, only to see that no one had on a wetsuit. Hmm. This was news to me. So I kept mine in the bag and set up my transitions, shocked at how many of these little routines were unfamiliar to me. After all, it was my first triathlon in exactly 7 years.

My swim was atrocious. From the start, I was kicked, punched, and pushed under. Each time I came up for a breath of fresh air, I swallow a pint of lake water. Saying a silent prayer to survive this swim and not get giardia, I swam wide of the first buoy to stay out of trouble. This caused me to be a bit too wide and by the time I made the final turn, I was content to just draft behind people on the way in. Stomach full of water, I lost all motivation to dig deep. I cleared the water in about 25+ minutes which I considered decent considering my lack of effort and getting ripped by a ton of people.

I was in and out of transition surprisingly quickly. What was not so fast was the mount line for the bike was about 700m from the transition zone, and up a huge hill. It turned out that my decision to have my shoes already attached to my bike (rather than putting them on in transition) was a good one. I shot past people attempting to run up a brick path, pushing their bike, in bike shoes with cleats on them. Most walked. Finally, the summit crested and the long decent of the first hill (at 36mph) behind me, I turned on the open road and began the cycle leg for real. A stiff headwind hit me in both directions on the out and back course (how is that possible?!?!). The course likened to Kona, Hawaii as the terrain was rolling, the landscape barren, and the wind heavy with heat. I blew past some better swimmers and was also passed by a few people on some sleek tri bikes. At the end of the first loop, we had a 2K climb up a long hill that again had some walking their bikes before shooting down again for the second loop. The second loop wasn’t as fast but still solid. Again the long climb to the top capped off by the dismount and 700m run down the hill to transition again. My average of about 20.8mph was seriously lowered by the long runs in and out of the zone but all in all, a 1:08:30 for 25 mile bike was great.

My transition was great despite not having zip laces yet. On the jog I immediately was sweeping up loads of runners. I caught nearly 40 in the first 2K. But the course was very hilly and soon things got very spread out. A runner I caught early on teamed with me to roll through the halfway point of the race. My goal was to make 7K and see what happened. I did and things got tough. The next 2K was uphill in stagnant, jungle air. My life ground to a halt. I crawled through the last couple of K and after several minutes into the final K I started counting down the steps. Since the last K took about 9 min, I would say it was mismarked. It hurt and I collapsed at the finish, content to lay there for several minutes before reuniting with the family. The bike down to the car and walk back up for breakfast was torture. But I survived.

So all in all, I had a decent swim pace for me, a solid bike, good transitions, and overall a great run (a run that was slower than I would have liked but faster than much of the field). In unofficial results I had the 9th fastest run for men.  But due to a timing error, none of it is available. I will never be able to see what place I was in during each event or how many people I caught.  It is lost in the African wind. But a hugely solid performance for November in the midst of other racing. I am stoked.

Soweto Round 2

My intention was to include the 2011 Soweto Marathon in a longer blog of a month full of races. But this event was just too bizarre to exclude from its own write up.

After parking and peeing in the trees, just like last year, I got into the corrals, which were back loaded. I inched toward the start line and found myself pinched off to the left between the fence and road. Literally, I was standing in a rock garden. To my left, a fence. To the right, a road. Ahead of me, a tent and wall for the announcers. All around me, well, people, but intermixed within the sea of humanity where cacti. Many, many cacti, about 3 feet off the ground, and sharp. I looked all around, and no one else seemed perplexed by this. My mind jumped ahead 5 minutes to when the gun would go off and I saw myself plowed face first into this spiny monster. Just as I started to push and inch my way toward the road, the gun went off. Amazing, the first time overseas a race starts on time.

Since I am writing this, you can be sure I was not the victim of a deadly cactus accident, but within feet of crossing the starting line, I was tested with even more challenging obstacles. Because of the grotesque amount of questionably intelligent people who toe the line of a marathon only to walk the moment the gun sounds, I was forced to run on the median, which was cobbled brick and, really, more cacti. To add insult to injury, people had lined up in the wrong corral (10k’ers in the marathon corral and vice versa) and were now making a mad dash across the median, and across my path. Now, this would be semi-acceptable if the openings to the start line didn’t have big signs indicating which way people should head.

Once out of the mayhem of rocks and criss-crossing idiots, I pulled over for a quick pee. After all, I had taken about 3 minutes to cover the first quarter mile so now was as good as any for a break. Ankle rolls, being cut off, and jumping over 3-foot-deep channels of water runoff, I rejoined the road. Now, I am not kidding when I say this: I am nearly a mile into the race and the crowd parts ahead of me to reveal five bovine-like creatures coming straight at me. When I ran with the bulls in Pamplona I wasn’t as intimidated as this. How these large ladies managed to get this far down the road 1) ahead of me (even with the poor start and pee break) and 2) without realizing that they were supposed to be in the 10K (which was headed the other direction) was beyond me. I yelled. “Jesus Christ!” and leapt to the side of the road, into another rock garden, and into a tree. They mooed in response and the race went on.

I can’t stress enough how funny I find the water stations here. Again, they use sachets of water sealed in these plastic baggie-like things. But they are easily dropped by the volunteers when handing to runners. So each time you go through a water station the sachets end up on the ground. When they get stepped on, 8 oz. of water explode into the air, soaking the victim’s feet and showering others with liquid. D-day comes every few miles as it is like the beaches of Normandy which these bombs going off.

The highlight of my race was running a good portion of it with Lindsay Anne van Aswegen, 3rd at the recent IAAF 100km World Championships. Ironically, Andrew Henshaw, a guy I had run with in Colorado, finished 3rd for the men in the same race. It was almost a sign.

Despite the excitement and chaos, it was a really hard race. I would have to say it was one of the easier first halves – mostly downhill. I clicked off 5k splits around 21:00. But after a first half in 1:32:30 (and staying totally slow having run 3:07 here last year), it got tough. A combination of 11-30 miles per week of running going in with monster hills, rising heat, and a very casual approach to the day just about killed me. I lost interest, slowed to about 23:00-24:00 per 5K and luckily, hooked up with some guys who wanted a sub-3:20. I shine with I have people to pull to the line. So I backed them off on hills, held pace through water stations, and dragged two guys to the line in just over 3:16. This race is painful and not for greenhorns. But I made it, and kicked off my month of Sundays – Marathon, Olympic-distance Triathlon, and then the 100k bike ride. I toyed with a long ride over Thanksgiving, but at this point, I’ll be ready for a rest.

Scares on the African Highveld

Let me tell you about my ride. I roll down the first street, and within 3 miles from home I come to a stop light. I roll through and along comes a taxi cab on my right. Soon he is drifting left and I lock up the brakes, skidding all the while. Slowly the cab drops off the edge of the road into the shoulder. I am leaning like a cycle sprinter into the cab as it drags me off the road into the ditch. After glaring, I ride on.

Rolling past the Lion Park, I catch a glimpse of giraffe, ostrich, and zebra. My fun soon ends when I turn on the highway that is two lanes and a 3-foot drop off from asphalt to dirt. A semi roars up, honking at me. I scoot over. He honks. I ride the edge. He honks. I pray. He honks and blasts by, never moving over an inch, despite no oncoming cars and a whole road to work with. After swearing, I ride on.

By now my neck is getting sore. I put my chin to my chest to stretch out. It is a welcome relief. But riding like this is not very smart so my head lifts back to the more common position. When it returns upright, there is a large SUV in my lane, going about 65mph, and not more than a few yards away. The jackass just had to pass these cars in front of him and cared very little about who might be in the way. Panic sets in I yank the wheel left, sailing into space before landing in the dirt shoulder, thankfully without blowing a tire. My hatred and curses fly in the wind back toward a yuppie that will never hear them. Even more fortunately, after surveying the land ahead and behind me, I realize I have landed on the only 10 feet of rural South African shoulder that isn’t filled with large dirt mounds or raging canals of runoff. The adrenalin fades, feet clip back in, and I ride on.

Thus completes my 50 mile ride.

Several days prior to the ride, I did a time trial at the running club. After 2.8 miles there, I set out in front by more than a couple minutes. Running solo I held a decent pace for 4K. Then I really tired. The end was not impressive. But I crossed in 19:05 on a course that is so hilly I say it is worth 15-20 seconds over 5K. Then I jogged 2.8 miles home. It was a very good result for the time of year, total lack of intensity, and the miles per week (12-30) I have been doing. Two days later, I finished a 50 mile bike ride that neither felt long nor hard. I am getting there.