|Pre-race swim w/ Jennyonthethumbsup|
Don’t travel with me. Just don’t… I’m undoubtedly cursed. If there’s one thing I can count on when flying anywhere, it’s that I can’t count on anything. I’m pretty sure untrained carrier pigeons would've reached Syracuse faster than I did last week. Covered wagons on the Oregon Trail would’ve been a more efficient & reliable transportation method for my cargo than checking it onto a plane.
My wayward enterprise to the East Coast began last Wednesday morning at the San Diego airport- & to no surprise, with a 2 hour delay. On my (almost) arrival into O’Hare airport in Chicago, the captain informed the flight that we can’t land “due to a bit of choppy weather”. We circled above Illinois for another hour before landing at, what would become, my new favorite least favorite place on earth. If anyone has any questions or would like advice on where to go in terminal 2 at O’Hare, just shoot me a message, because I was there, delayed, for 8 HOURS. I can list you the name of every shop & restaurant, in order, in concourse C like the 1st 20 Presidents of the United States (so with about 80% accuracy, some spelling errors, and a few that don’t actually exist). I know where all the prime spots to charge your phone are, where all the flight crew members gather and gripe before/after flights, & where to sit and enjoy a beer while observing people frantically running to & fro gates. I own the record for the pub crawl in concourse C, having 1 beer at every bar that evening. This endless delay finally ended at 1:30am with the outright cancellation of the flight.
Left to fend for myself until the next flight to Syracuse (which was Friday AM, 30 hours later), I set out into the windy city to find a bed. After unsuccessfully infiltrating a Holiday inn and Best Western, learned that every hotel in/surrounding the city was booked (or overbooked). I was forced to split a cab with 5 others, 17 miles into the middle of BF-nowhere to a Super 8. The next morning, awoke with excitement (seriously) and jumped on a train into the city. I had never been to Chicago and have always wanted to, so I got out my exhausted phone and texted a number of friends from Chicago and asked where I should go & explore in the city. I took a tally of the most popular suggestions and took action. It was actually an awesome day roaming the city and wandering around this urbane & metropolitan wonderland. With the expectation of a few close calls with some ruffians on an evening run to Soldier Field thru the South Side, it was a great day.
Of course, my flight was delayed for 2 hours on Friday morning to Syracuse because the Pilots were in a different city. Nonetheless, I finally made it to the Cuse that afternoon….. with a missing bike. I (almost) didn’t care; just happy to see my friends & home stay, Dan & Alesha, as well as victoriously reach my destination. With a crash course in How to successfully argue with the airlines by being pestering and aggressive by Alesha, my bike was found and delivered to the airport on Saturday afternoon, 20 minutes before the Pro meeting.
With the knowledge learned from being there late last year, Dan & I armed our alarm clocks early and navigation system for the road less traveled (the back road entrance) & arrived at the race with plenty of time to spare. I was uniquely amped and excited before the start (later attributing this internal explosion (on every level) to the pint of straight espresso that I drank with breakfast).
I was slightly surprised I had a decent swim, thinking for sure I’d have a bad swim with my regimen of 25-minute, twice weekly, swims at my parent’s pool over the last 2 months. Nonetheless, felt strong and took turns rotating around with a group of 3 others, exiting in 26:30.
I borrowed my brother’s bike (my old Shiv) for this race (any bike companies out there….. I’d love a bike. Anything above a 1998 ti frame will do). Just like hooking up with an ex, everything felt familiar and there were no awkward moments in position re-acquaintance, which made for smooth sailing on the bike course. A big change in cycling training was mainly credited to much conversing with Brett Clare. For those of you that don’t know Brett, aside from being one of the most humble and class dudes around, I couldn’t even begin to list his endless accomplishments in cycling. Brett helped form the groundwork to get me on the right track, and with just 6-7 weeks of change, I had, unquestionably, the strongest bike split in a 70.3 I’ve ever had. Praise also to Luke McKenzie for helping me with boundless technical aspects to cycling. There’s so much to learn about this sport, you can’t do it without the help of others who’ve experienced it, themselves.
I rode without power or any sort of bike computer and relied totally on effort. The downer was I forgot to attach a 2nd bottle cage to my back seat, so I only had 1 bottle and had to grab a few water hand-offs at course aid stations. I believe I passed 7 people on the bike and rode alone the whole day. I felt strong and even held back a bit on the climb. I really love that course, it’s got a long grinding grade/climb for the first 15-20 miles then rolling, ending with a few downhill sections; great road conditions and epic scenery. 2:17 bike split. It would’ve been nice to have a few others around to keep the pressure up when I’d start to get comfortable, but I think I did a decent job with the presented circumstances.
|Run snaps by Dan|
I wasn't particularly satisfied with my result but happy I’m finally figuring out the 70.3 distance and seeing progress. I’m confident I can piece it all together someday.
Following the race, Jen and Mark convinced me to come with them to get some of the local favorite Ice Cream (I’m so hard to convince when it comes to sweets); & a well earned dinner at Dinosaur BBQ capped off the night. (Joint celebration for Dr. Mark Barber, successfully defending at SU, days prior.)
|Should hv just taken that balloon back home..|
As you can probably imagine, the trip back home was nearly as ridden with shite luck as the way out. I’m not lying when I tell you this (as if I were lying about anything else in this post) that this devil woman at the front counter of United was deadest on charging me $450 to check my bike back to SD. Clearly, by her superiorly accurate eyeballing size/scaling talent, she could tell that my bike case was just over the size requirements for oversized baggage. After 45 minutes of arguing and eventually proving her wrong with a tape measure, the price was reduced to a mere $225 (the monkey covering his eyes emoji, here). After a 3 hour in delay in Newark because, get this, they loaded another plane’s baggage onto the plane I was on and only God knows where our baggage was. I made it back to San Diego only to find the jetway (connector from the plane to the terminal) had been frozen and had to be reset by the mechanics, which took 35 more minutes before we could un-board. Thinking only of how I’d be devouring California Burritos and an IPA with my brother as soon as I got off that ridiculous ramjet, those felt like the longest 35 minutes of my life. I almost kissed the ground when I got back to Encinitas, but instead kissed my Stone IPA after a toast to a great & unforgettable trip.
|Dino BBQ w/ Mark, Jen, Dan & Alesha|
Thanks to my outrageously rad sponsors- Spy, Harmony Bars, Stone Brewing Co, Xterra wetsuits, and Snapchat (…just kidding, or am?). Special thanks to Dan, Alesha & little Finn. Thank you guys for opening up your home to me and making me feel like family.. Lookin forward to returning the love in SD soon! (Also to the Anderson family for giving me an Ecuadorian Spear. You can bet I’m gonna nab some fish in the lagoon with that that sucker). Lastly, Gregg, Barb, Reid & Lexi… you guys make me this happy: Click Here #andreaGail
|The Flight Home #snapchat|