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The big aquabike race

For three years at least — since we started riding spin bikes one summer, or maybe even longer — The Yankee has toyed with the idea of competing in an aquabike event. This is a swim and bike, or a triathlon without the run, though purists would, I’m sure disagree with that as a oversimplification.

This summer has been the first time she’s been able to put it in her schedule. She’s on the master’s swim team at Auburn. Between doing laps and doing work she’s been riding her bike as well. And today there was a sprint triathlon — one in a series of six — in Georgia. They offered an aquabike component. And so we finally got to see it happen.

The race was at Indian Springs State Park which, like so much of Georgia, is in the middle of a rolling, rural countryside that features pine trees, pastureland and not much else. So we stayed last night in lovely Macon, and woke up and were on the road before sunrise. The race started at 8 a.m., which was great because everything wrapped up at 11 a.m., when the sun remembered it was June and turned ridiculous.

But we were, watching everyone get read as the golden rays filtered through the pines:

We’d registered yesterday, so that left only putting things in the transition area just so and getting numbers painted on your limbs and donning those fetching swim caps. They started the race, triathlete or no, on the basis of which cap color you had. Every group meant a different thing. The yellows were younger men. The green color caps, worn by older gentlemen, swam away three minutes later. Then came the purples, pinks and red for everyone else. The Yankee wore a red cap in the novice group, which pushed off 12 minutes after the yellows started the race. Perhaps this was the wrong category.

Getting her game face on. Or wondering how you’re supposed to be able to see in lake water.

Here’s the group’s start. They are swimming clockwise in a giant half-circle around five orange buoys. Those 600 meters look a lot different in open water than in the pool, I’d bet.

She got off to a good start in the swim, which is her stronger of the two events. She said she got off course at one point — which is precisely why I don’t swim in these things, my kick is so awful I’d go around in a circle — and had to correct. And then she started catching people in the groups in front of her, who swam away three minutes before she did.

On the other end of the manmade beach I settled in right where the competitors were coming out of the water. They swam the last 200 hundred meters into the rising sun, so very few people knew they’d arrived at the end.

I have a series of pictures of her coming out of the water, her red cap in contrast to the bulk of the pink-cap wearing group behind her. She’d put more than three minutes into a few dozen people in just the swim. (And later was displeased with how long she was in the water.)

In this race you stride out of the water and run maybe 30 yards across a narrow beach. And then you jog uphill:

This is on a sidewalk to the park’s lakehouse, where you turn right, run parallel another 50 or 60 feet to the beach, turn left and then have another incline to get into the area where your bike is waiting for you. It is a long run after a smart swim.

You put on your helmet and walk your bike out of the corral and to the “mount here” line. You climb on and immediately hit two rollers, a stop sign (that I imagine everyone ignored) and then a nice little windy exit to the park. You turn left and then climb hills for two miles. After that you’ve got a dozen miles of ground to cover, mostly rolling, but also some really nice flat distance.

I rode this yesterday and figured the early hills would hurt, but that she’d have a great ride the rest of the way. I was topping out in the low 30s on some of the flat stuff, and The Yankee’s bike is geared to give her a little more power on the flats than mine.

So I tried to stake out a good place just before the finish line back in the park, where shadows and light were playing tricks on the swiftly moving cyclists. The first guy back, by the way, completed the swim and the bike in less than 50 minutes. I assume he went on to have a masterfully impressive run and total sprint triathlon time as well. He was wearing an aero helmet, which seemed a bit excessive for the Georgia quasi-recreational race, but whatever made his head happy, I guess.

And, naturally, I found my spot and was largely alone for half an hour enjoying the morning and then the early returning cyclists all by myself. When my wife comes back through, working hard and looking good, this entire family walked right in front of my shot. So I have some fuzzy ones, thanks random family of ill-timed people. Now she’ll just have to do another race.

Which, after she’d stored her bike, tore off her helmet and did the final few yards of running across the finish line, she said she would do again.

That was about the third thing she said actually. First she asked for permission of the race volunteers to die. Fearing the paperwork, they said no. She did except their offer for a water, though. And then, later, she said it was a great race. Except for that first transition. And, when they posted times, she thought her swim could be better. But her ride was great. She did it today faster than I did it yesterday. We’ll just credit adrenaline for that.

She ate bagels and oranges and drank water and we tried to stay out of the sun while the rest of the field came in. She got cleaned up, we moved the car closer to the crowd and loaded our gear back in and on it. Just before the awards came through one of the last finishers. And just after they started handing out plaques and medals the last female racer, an older woman who finished strong, crossed the line. Not too far behind her came the last man, who was racing in the 75-79 division.

What did you do on your Saturday morning? Because that septuagenarian completed a sprint-triathlon. He swam 600 meters, biked 14.3 (I saw him come back in, looking serene and at ease) and then ran a 5K over a hilly course. Late 70s. How was your Saturday? Mine involved standing in the shade.

At the end of everything, when the official scores were tabulated through the magical powers of race software and the vagaries of USAT rules The Yankee was counted not as a novice, but as a third-place finisher in the women’s aquabike.

She was just two minutes out of first place. Her swim was four minutes slower than her pool time and we know nothing about transitions. So, yeah, we’re going to be competitive about this sport now.

More to come later.

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22
Jun 12

Travel day

Nothing welded, nothing gained.

This is on the fork of The Yankee’s bike, mounted to the back of the car, with my bike behind it. There’s something comforting about those little wavy lines of internationally crafted workmanship. If you stare enough into and under the paint coat you’ll see all manner of things, including how this bike is going to get you over that hill.

We’re in Georgia today, spending the night in a hotel about a half hour away from where The Yankee is competing in an aquabike race tomorrow morning. She’ll do 600 meters of an open water swim and then a 14.3 mile bike ride.

I did the ride today. We drove it, and then I pedaled it. And then we drove it again, so I could tell her things about the road and the hills and the trouble spots. I am now, officially, a scout.

After you dive out of the state park where the race starts, wrapping yourself around some curves mildly approaching technical, you find yourself looking up two miles worth of hills. The second hill being somewhat exciting because you hang a right and keep climbing. After that there are plenty of rollers. I found a lot of 30 mile per hour sections of the course. She’s going to have a great ride tomorrow.

But that means we have to get up very, very early. So … goodnight. And wish her luck tomorrow!

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21
Jun 12

It was a pretty full day

Had the big anniversary dinner last night, which also means the anniversary self-portrait, traditionally taken right about on this spot, the “Oh, yes, we should take a picture” spot.

We had reservations at the marvelous Warehouse Bistro — a local five-star restaurant that is hidden in the oldest industrial park in neighboring Opelika. All the big signatures are on the wall. You get the impression that a lot of powerful deals are made there.

We now have an “our usual table,” even though we go there once a year. It is a bit out of our normal price range. But the food is so good.

Here’s the New Zealand rack of lamb:

Try the … well, try everything. It is a five-star restaurant.

Rode a quick 19 miles today. Had dinner with our friend Jeremy. Did some research and planning — turns out the Harvey Updyke trial, which was set to get underway this week, was continued once again. That got scrapped this morning when the judge, concerned over this guy’s inability to stop telling members of the media he poisoned the fabled trees at Toomer’s Corner, media exposure and jury fairness, delayed the trial again.

The guy has talked to ESPN, Finebaum, Finebaum again and been featured in a thin television documentary that had a theatrical release. People have heard of him. This has all been an indecipherably, convoluted defense strategy, I’m almost convinced of it. (Finebaum, because he knows it is good for his business, has decided that Updyke has been punished enough. Last one out turn out the lights.)

(Incidentally, good on The Plainsman’s reporter for striking up the conversation that led to the story linked above. Word is that Updyke told the reporter he did it without being asked. The reporter was supposed to be working on something similar to a sympathy piece, but realized his story changed right in front of him. Of course he wrote it. The Plainsman called it a confession, and treated it like this was news. It was not. Updyke has been saying this since February of 2011. Also they missed on the age of the trees by 60 years. Facts are important, tricky things. But it was nice hustle nonetheless. Now the young student-journalist has been subpoenaed in this case. Nice start to a journalism career, that.)

The timing of this scheduled appearance had been fortuitous, though, because we’d fashioned a little project around it. But the decision today scrapped that plan. Worked out well, though. Our new plan fleshed out as a much better idea.

Incidentally, we’re 16 months out from his arrest, and still nothing more than an arraignment and depositions in bizarro-Updyke land.

Did a little packing tonight. Put the brand new bike rack on the car. Read every direction in the booklet. This is important. There are cars behind us that would like our bikes to stay on our new bike rack. And we’d really rather not trash our bike.

Tomorrow we’ll be on the road again.

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19
Jun 12

I wrote at the library today

I am to the point in this little section of a paper I’m writing that I’m now rewriting it over and over. This is a fine part of the process, but it can be overdone. The trick is knowing when to take the meat off the grill, he said in a metaphor that makes no sense. But I’ve been through these two pages … oh … several times. It doesn’t always seem like progress. But it isn’t exactly treading water, either.

And so the writing goes on.

Some anonymous person from The Birmingham News wrote a nice little obituary for some of those colleagues who recently learned they were losing their jobs. No one wants to see people out of work. Only the misguided would revel in the diminished stature of newspapers. (I think the future is bright for journalism online, but I value what newspapers bring to the civic conversation as well.)

Journalists, of course, take this recent news a bit more personally, because it is a lot closer to home. People in our line of work passionately believe in what they do and the importance it carries. And in addition to that zeal there are the other real concerns about paying the bills. These notions transcend industry, though. Newspapers, unfortunately, never cover job closings well enough — there’s always the perfunctory facts and the obligatory quote about the sad decision and then a few other facts before wrapping up, but there are dozens, or hundreds of stories among all of those people now out of work — but they at least try when it has to do with their own.

Here’s a nod over at Weld to some of those hard-working people in the news business. There are a lot of smart and canny people at those papers. I hope they all land on their feet soon.

Harvey Updyke, alleged Toomer’s Corner tree poisoner, is finally getting his day in court. Today was the beginning of the jury selection. And, during a lunch break, a writer from The Auburn Plainsman approached him:

Before his trial began and before his jury was even selected, Updyke convicted himself by admitting to poisoning one of Auburn’s most iconic landmarks.

Updyke also said his lawyer, Everett Wess, would probably drop him if he found out he was speaking about the case.

Why he decided to admit his guilt may remain unknown. However, Updyke had seemingly already resigned himself his fate.

“They’re going to find me guilty… it’s a done deal,” Updyke said. “I don’t think I’m going to get a fair trial.”

He didn’t convict himself. Judges and juries do that sort of thing. And he’s been saying much the same thing on the air and to reporters for the better part of 18 months. But it does demonstrate a bit of scattered thought at play. Why would you do this, Harvey, just outside the courtroom?

Also, the story misses on the age of the trees by about 60 years. Facts are tricky things, a statement I’ll now say over and over until it becomes annoying. But it is an interesting read. Good for the student-journalist who struck up the conversation. Wonder why none of the rest of the reporters did.

I’ve read elsewhere that after he spoke Updyke asked the reporter to not publish his comments, but of course he did. He did the right thing there.

We walked under the trees Friday night. Sadly they don’t look well at all.

We walked down the street today to watch the local bike club’s time trial. Met a nice older gentleman who does his riding at 3:15 in the morning. Met one of The Yankee’s grad students. Watched all the riders push through the finish line.

This is a route I ride regularly. So I guess we know what we’ll be doing soon.

Something new today on Tumblr and on the almost dead LOMO blog. (I should probably kill that one off. Also, check out the happenings on Twitter.

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16
Jun 12

Signs, signs, everywhere are signs

Spent a couple of hours on my bike today. (Sounds so nice I want to do it again.) I waited until the afternoon sun was dying out and the heat and the ultraviolet weren’t so oppressive and then I set out for a three stage ride. I cruised over to Opelika, intent on picking up a few more pictures for the Historic Marker Series.

As you may know — or if you don’t know or if you’ve just come back from that link and would like your assumptions confirmed — I’m hitting all of the markers in the county on my bike. I found the locations on the historical society’s website. I made a map, which heads up that page. But I’ve learned that between the descriptions and my best guesses there’s sometime a bit of discrepancy. So I’m fixing the map as I go, but I’m also spending a lot of time just cruising around looking for the signs.

So the second stage of today’s ride was riding around the downtown area of Opelika. This was little more than soft pedaling between red lights and looking confused. There were eight markers downtown. I found that I’d placed four or five accurately on my map.

I found them all. And the biggest inaccuracy was no more than a mile or two off. (That one was purely a guess anyway, so it wasn’t a mistake so much as having no real idea to begin with.) But I found them all. I dat on a bench in the shade in Opelika and had a little snack. I took all of my pictures and then pointed toward home, catching that last one on the way. Turns out I go by it every so often, but I’d never noticed it.

I also found two more signs. The ones I’m photographing are by either the state or the Chattahoochee Commission. The extras were put up by a tourism board and a church. But I was there. I had the chance to read them. Why not?

So I’ll add those to that section of the site eventually too, as always, one a week, on Thursdays.

The third stage of my ride was the return trip home. The sun was falling and the route I’d planned involved a lot of tree cover — meaning darker even a bit earlier — and I had no blinkies on my bike. In cycling the expression is to “put the hammer down.” That doesn’t apply to me, but I put it down anyway.

I average 24 miles per hour over the last eight miles, making it home just before the sky grayed.

And then we worked on paper ideas. Now we just have to write the paper. Meantime, we’re enjoying homemade muffins with fresh picked, locally grown blueberries. I think even the cinnamon was fair trade. It sounds far more ostentatious than it really is. But it is also more delicious than it sounds.

Best story detail of the day:

Leftfielder Nick Clark hustled in, trying to catch a sinking line drive.

“I ran up and at the very end I said, ‘OK, we’ll sacrifice my body,'” Clark said.

Clark went into a diving slide. He caught the ball.

He lost his leg.

The rest of us? We’ve lost the privilege of complaining about aches and pains for the rest of the day.

And, with the death this morning of Rodney King, the Associated Press published their Where Are They Now feature on some of the key players of his beating and the later riots. Some of these aren’t surprising at all.

Years ago I dropped my subscription to Newsweek because of a stupid cover story. And now you can see the latest cover that wasn’t. It was to be an image of President Obama in a hoodie. Here’s why they didn’t publish it:

In the old days, a cover is a cover, and that was it. Today, she says, there’s an “aftermath of imagery” one must take into consideration. Will this cover be used by white supremacists? Will it take a bad turn in its meme lifecycle?

This was to be one of their new artistic covers, because a news photograph is no longer desirable. But Diana of Wales, were she alive today, now that, they think, will move magazines! They get people to talk about the magazine occasionally, but they do nothing for news, or to buttress the once proud reputation of the old magazine. Issue sales are stagnant or barely moving. Advertising is sadly way down. Putting the president in a hoodie isn’t going to help those things.

We’re watching the Clemson-Auburn 2010 game tonight. (I hope Auburn wins!) I’m not sure how they pulled this game off. Clearly the purple and orange set clearly played better in the first half of the game and, if memory serves, for the better part of the third quarter as well. But they never quit, and there was a big hit (there were a lot of those in this game) that limited Clemson’s quarterback. And then that heartbreaking, for them, overtime experience.

Clemson came to play that Saturday night, and they gave the eventual national champions one of the three biggest scares of the year. I talked to some of their fans after the game. That was exactly how they expected the game to play out: a strong start before they found a way to give the game to Auburn.

I took pictures of that game. Had a few good ones, too. You can see some of them here. Watching it tonight, the 2011 beatdown that Clemson gave Auburn is a lot less surprising.

The two teams start the season against one another this fall in Atlanta.