This was a classic fog-shrouded Northern California coastal swim: Cool water temps, limited visibility. There wasn't much I could do about sighting. I just tried to follow the path of bubbles and hoped for the best. The water was an odd-colored beige. I felt okay for most of the swim. But, like everybody else, I did a ton of zig-zagging. It was impossible to see more than 50 yards ahead.

The swim reminded me of the movie Apocalypse Now, which follows an American patrol boat crew as they thread their way through a foggy, narrow passageway into Cambodia during the Vietnam War. In one particularly eery scene, the crew can't see anything through the fog, but they can hear a blaring loud speaker off in the distance. This is pretty much what the swim felt like as I approached the finish. All I could do was swim towards the sound of the loudspeaker and hope I navigated correctly.

I made it out of the water in abut 28 minutes, but there was a 2-block run to T1, which added about 2 minutes.


I probably should have started more towards the left side of the buoys, which would have given me a more direct route through the course. I basically followed a trail of bubbles through the entire course. In hidsight, I should have been more selective about which bubbles to follow.

No mishaps, but this wasn't a particularly fast transition. All of us had to stuff our wetsuits and goggles into a plastic bag before leaving T1.


I had too much stuff to put into the plastic bag. I didn't need the shoes. Flip-flops would have been better.

The bike leg was fun -- call it an adventure ride. The fog only added to the experience. My sunglasses were wet and fogged up right from the start, which made things interesting. About 5 miles into the bike, I heard several blaring sirens and saw some flashing red lights out of the side of my sunglasses. I found out later there was an accident that caused a major traffic jam in town. Traffic was tight all along Highway 1, but I managed to hold my power in my goal range for most of the first half of the ride.

Just south of town, the course cuts directly across Highway 1 and heads east onto Higgins Canyon Road. For the most part, traffic control along the course was excellent. But my heart skipped a few beats when a cop let a car pull out in front of me as I was crossing the highway. I yelled out "Hey!" and the cop stopped the next car. No blood, no foul.

Higgins Canyon Road quickly heads into the nearby hills. I had previewed the bike course a few weeks earlier, so I knew what to expect. The slowest part of the course occurs at around mile 13 with a 9% sustained grade for a mile or so. The sun finally peaked out as I climbed the canyon. By the time I reached the summit, the fog was gone, and my sunglasses finally cleared up. The quick, short descent was fun while it lasted.

I was still going fairly strong through the rolling hills leading back down to the coast and onto Highway 1. In typical fashion, I'd pass several riders on the downhill, and then get passed up again on the uphill. This scenario repeated several times. A few miles after merging back onto Highway 1 and heading north, I got a little tentative and my pace fell off a bit. I was probably thinking too much about T2. My bike time was slower than I wanted it to be, but there were some pace-busting hills that probably had something to do with it...



I should have stayed better focused and kept my power up for the final 4-5 miles. I still had some zip left in my legs. But then again, if I'd gone any harder, I might not have had enough left for a decent run. It's hard to say.

This was an average transition. Once again, I forgot to keep my sunglasses on when I removed my helmet. After putting on my shoes, I had to duck back under the bike rack and retrieve them. I remembered to put in an extra squeeze when I tightened the laces on my left shoe.

When I first started competing in triathlons 3 years ago, running was best leg. Today, it appears that everything is reversed. My swim has somehow become my strength (which I still don't entirely believe) and running is now my weakness. I actually felt strong on the run for the first 3 miles of the SVIT, and thought I was headed for a breakthrough (my goal was to run my first-ever sub-50 minute 10K in a triathlon). But the running gods decided to play yet another cruel prank on me.

To go sub-50 minutes, I needed to average 8-minute miles. I started out with a 7:37 mile, followed by 7:57 for mile 2, and 7:54 for mile 3. So far so good, right:? Wrong. Just past the turnaround, at around the mile 3 marker, things quickly went sour. As I hung a U-turn, I felt a breeze hit my face and my legs started to get a little heaver. Uh oh...

A few steps later, a guy passed me on my right and offered some encouragement -- "You're doing good," he said, cheerfully. "Keep it up!" I looked at the age marked on his calf, and quickly realized why he was so cheery. He was 52 -- my age. Ugh... I felt something queezy stir in my stomach.

Normally, I don't care much about how I place in a race. I've never come close to a podium (top 3 finish) in my age group, so it's never been much of a concern. But this particular race was different. The top 33% of finishers in each age group automatically qualify for the USA Triathlon National Championship in Milwaukee in August. I knew I was a long-shot to qualify, but I was still holding onto a thread of hope. As it turns out, that uneasy feeling in my stomach was spot on.

The guy who passed me wasn't going terribly fast -- his feet were simply moving in a slightly quicker shuffle than mine. He slowly pulled away until he was about 35 yards ahead of me. At that point, I somehow summoned up enough extra movement in my legs to keep him from moving any further ahead. But my pace had still slipped to 8:05 a mile. By mile 5, I had slipped to 8:07. Mile 6 was even slower -- 8:20. Amazingly though, the guy who passed me earlier was still only 50 yards ahead.

With about 1/4 mile to go, I could see the finish banner ahead on a hill to the right. I still didn't know where I stood n qualifying, but I strongly suspected the guy in front of me might be the tail end of the top 33% in my age group. As the course moved onto a dirt trail and head up the final hill to the finish, I tried to make one last desperate move. But there was nothing there. Instead of going faster, my legs slowed down. I eventually stumbled across the finish line without gaining any ground.

Several minutes later, I looked at the final results and my suspicions were confirmed. The guy in front of me finished in 6th place in my age group. I finished in 7th -- 18 seconds behind him. There were 18 finishers. I was outside the qualifying bubble. Not only that, I had missed my goal of running an Oly triathlon 10K in under 50 minutes. My time? 50:01.

But there was at least a shred of good news to salvage. I somehow managed to slip under 2:40 in an Oly distance triathlon for the first time -- but just barely at 2:39:54. Just wait 'till next year...


I guess I just need to run faster and train harder. I'm improving. But it's a slow process.

Walked around the expo area, ate a burrito, changed into dry clothes.



I just need to train harder -- especially in the run. I need to do more work on the hills and improve my endurance.



This was a very well run race -- especially under the circumstances. The race organizers and the city of Half Moon Bay deserve a ton of extra eggs and candy from the Easter Bunny. Hopefully, they'll figure out a way to bring another triathlon back to Half Moon Bay in the future.