Oil Man - a bit of everything

Oil Man marked the first time since Superfrog in 2011 to toe the line of a half-Ironman and a reminder of the hangover the body feels the day after these longer events. I am now second guessing if I really want to put myself through the death by Chinese water torture of Ironman Texas next May.

Let’s start with the night before the race. Since moving to Texas last November I’ve become a bit of a weather snob and reacted like a snowbird would when faced with the weather forecast calling for chilly temperatures in the high-30’s with 15-20 mph winds. That is to say, I pulled out every piece of warm article of cycling clothing I own and threw it in my race bag. Booties, toe warmers, long fingered gloves, winter skull cap, fortified cyclocross skin suit, wind vest, wind jacket and more. It was a pathetic sight to behold and one that had Emily shaking her head in disappointment at the weakened shell of a man I had turned into.

Emily recalled hearing the alarm go off but, regardless, I slept through it. I scrambled out of the house an hour later than planned, not totally worried since the 30-34‘ers went off in one of the latest waves, but transition close was a firm time deadline for everyone. It caused enough panic in the house that Emily even got out of bed (thanks Sweetie) and got my coffee and PBJ toast ready while I piled everything into the car from the 35 mile drive up to North Conroe.

Arriving at La Torretta with little time to spare to transition close, I did the stupidest thing possible and that was ride my bike on the road to transition with my helmet buckled to my back pack and not on top of my head. There is no excuse for this as all racers were clearly warned in the race manual provided that it was a DQ without exception. There was nothing to contest when the USAT official stopped me. I was 100% in the wrong and irresponsible in my action. I was just appreciative they said I could still race (pic proof i typically err to wearing helmets even riding on rollers or doing video shoots).

Let’s get to the fun part, the race. Due to the nature of the age-group wave start - with waves spread out every four minutes - it would be difficult to tell where you were placed in relation to fellow competitors so I approached it more as a time-trial effort versus a tactical one. The swim was just to my liking as the winds on Lake Conroe kicked up a bunch of small but inconsistent chop making everyones’ strokes appear more like a thrash than a well-manicured freestyle. I’m a fairly good thrasher despite not being a great swimmer. There is a difference, trust me.

It’s always interesting to see the techniques used by different race organizers on how they get athletes safely out of the water and I think OUTLOUD! implemented a great method. They used three ladders perfectly placed deep enough into the water so you didn’t have to execute a rock climbing maneuver to get situated before climbing out. The last five minutes of the swim were spent considering all the wardrobe options I had awaiting in T1 and which one to go with. The air temperature hadn’t felt as low as the weather channels advertised so I went with a short sleeved skin suit, arm warmers, full fingered gloves (the kind with material on the fingers pads to allow to swipe smartphone screens), toe warmers and socks. Oh yeah, I had three full-size towels with me to make sure I dried off completely so as not to start the bike wet, and chilled. I think all of these precautions accomplished two things: 1) lead to an insanely slow transition time and 2) and more importantly, kept me dry and comfortable throughout the bike.

I had a few goals over the 56-miles of cycling. I knew there were some speedy cyclists on the relay teams who would be charging hard through the course, specifically Corey Meeks and Philip Shama, and I wanted to hold them off as long as possible. I also wanted to get to the front of the race as quickly as possible. That would eliminate the need to worry about time checks to other racers since I was in the last individual wave start. These were both potentially unrealistic goals since the only thing I had control over was how I was capable of riding, and not how others performed, but I simplified everything in my mind and focused on taking in as many calories as my gut would handle and applying force to the pedals while staying in a rocket-ship aero tuck that would have made wind tunnel experts proud. Sounds easy, right. Oh yeah, now toss in relentless hills in Montgomery County, and that game plan was quickly tossed out the window! I spent the entire back half of the bike keeping quad and glute cramps at bay and was constantly out of the saddle, standing, wrenching and stretching my way into T2.

Now that I’ve spent a full year in North Houston, I knew locals revered Oil Man as an end of the season, celebration race of sorts, putting a cap on a long year of racing. I wanted to have some fun. By the time I arrived into T2, the sun was out and it had warmed up, so on went the budgie smugglers. I learned at an aquathlon I once raced in San Diego that if you look ridiculous in these puppies, and I certainly have that box checked, that spectators will go along with it, cheer a bit louder and have a laugh at and with you. It keeps the mood light and racing relaxed versus tense and leads to a better performance output. Well, despite having to stop and stretch out some lingering quad cramps in the first few miles along with one of those nasty hamstring ones that come out of nowhere and stop you dead in your tracks, I focused on enjoying the run course. The spectator support around the course was inspiring, especially running through the gauntlet of the legendary hecklers, the SouthCoast Endurance support squad! I may or may not have chugged a cold beer in less than ten seconds on that final lap (photo evidence pending).

I’d like to say that was the end of the season but I’ve got one more race, Challenge Bahrain, I’m ramping up for a month from now. It’s a bit of a homecoming as I grew up a short drive away in Saudi Arabia and my parents are in their final year of living there. It will be an incredible atmosphere as the best triathletes in the world will be competing for $500,000 in the pro event. I’m going to see how I stack up against the melting pot of age-groupers which will certainly draw an excellent field with Europe a short flight away from The Middle East and many handy triathletes emerging out of the Gulf Arab States. Can’t wait to experience the show the Challenge Family team has on tap! *thanks to Paige DiLizio (wife to super hero Max Watts) for the race pics.