May 1-2

By Daniel Heineck

Over the last few years, Wildflower has been a highlight of my racing season. Not only does it happen in a rather beautiful, bucolic part of the world, but everything about this huge event (around 4500 racers over the weekend) is well orchestrated. The long-course racers are fun to banter with (I mean cheer), and the general gestalt of the weekend is pretty awesome. Oh, and the course is really tough and brings out some pretty decent folks to race. It's also got a bit of a nasty streak of chewing up racers and having them for brunch. There's not much more I could ask and this year certainly did not disappoint.

One minor problem with the race location is proximity to San Diego. Now, it's nowhere near as bad as the 14 hours each way that I drove with my Alma mater's team, Oregon State, but the 7 hours getting to the campground were just half-an-eternity as opposed to the whole thing. Fortunately, I had a pretty cool set of folks to ride with and Jen's iPhone-powered Pandora radio stations to weather the black hole known as Los Angeles traffic on Friday afternoon. The space-time continuum breaks down in LA: several cars on the team left between 3 and 6 pm on Friday night only to arrive at the campground at the same time. Try and figure that one out. We chose to go up on 101, which provided a lovely view of the sun setting through the Channel Islands, and stopped to eat at Silvergreens in downtown Santa Barbara--a fine institution that I highly support. I'm batting 2/2 on eating there on treks that take me to or through the area this year. With a switch of drivers and a full tank of gas, we were off and arrived at Lake San Antonio with some delays from drivers who believe that 15 under the speed limit is a perfectly good clip and some minor getting lost business. For those reading this report before next year's race, head west along Interlake Rd from Paso Robles and then make a right onto San Antonio Rd to enter the park. Google maps will try and send you to the north campground instead of the south one.

Saturday:

Arriving late and not knowing where I was supposed to sleep, I did the logical thing and plopped myself under the stars. Upon waking up on Saturday morning I groggily learned that I was quite the spectacle amongst the UCSD and TCSD campground. Yes, folks, you can sleep under the stars in the mid-low 40's and not die from the cold. No, I didn't have such bad gas nor snored so loudly that I got kicked out of my tent, but thanks for the concern. The rest of Saturday was filled with wearing tons of sunscreen, going down to the expo to pick up the race packets, cheering/bantering/heckling the Half-Iron folks that ran by our campsite, a short bike ride with the team to get the pre-race nerves out, and generally getting excited about our Olympic-distance race the next day. Since I had just scored some sweet new-to-me race wheels the week before the race, I was pretty excited to give them a proper roll out before the race. Hed3's are pretty well known for sailing in a cross wind and they did not disappoint on the short warm up ride. I left for the warm up with a false sense of bravado that I could handle whatever tried to blow me around and returned with a new found respect for how terrifying it can be to round a corner in a strong gust and be suddenly moved from the outer white line to the double yellow. Wind 1, Hubris 0. Fortunately, the winds Sunday morning proved to be a non-issue.

TCSD had a banquet of sorts Saturday night which consisted of a lot of really tasty food that I usually wouldn't eat before a race. Like several hamburgers, far too many nachos, and thirds of the southwest bean salad (which was the culinary highlight for sure). Oh, and Oreos. Far too many Oreos. Many thanks to Nick DeNezzo's positive response to my inquiry, "To Oreo or not to Oreo--that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the sling and arrows of outrageous fortune or..." wait, back to the Oreos--I had more than enough for 4 people, much less one. Let's just put it this way: I left the dinner wondering which mile on the bike all that food would seek its revenge. I was thinking somewhere around mile 5, but the base of Lynch hill was a definite possibility. Again, like the wind worry, it was unfounded and I had no problems the next day. In fact, several of us ate too much and raced well the next day but I'll try not to tempt gastrointestinal fate again.

During dinner it came out in conversation that many of us were pretty well burnt out from the racing season and had tapered VERY well for the weekend. Being on the road for most weekends starting mid-February takes it out of you. For my part, I quickly devolved into talking about how much I didn't really care how fast I raced the next day since I wouldn't be anywhere near my course PR and how I was out to have some fun on a rather rewarding course. I'll credit Lisa Fong for snapping me out of that milieu by reminding me that I still owed the course, my team, and ultimately myself the very best I could do. Thank you.

Coach Mac gathered us together for a post-dinner pep talk, highlighting how great the season has been going, how proud he was of our performances thus far and how well prepared we were for tomorrow in spite of some of our frustrations at some races. It was a good reminder and appropriate mindset to finish the season.

The rest of Saturday night consisted of more socializing and generally enjoying the company of our rather large group from UCSD. There was a lot of talk about plans for the summer and fun things we could do with all the fitness we had built over the season--like rock climbing, backpacking, epic running and such. It was a fine way to end an already good day. Lights dimmed, fires burned out and the campground went quiet. It was bedtime and I slept tent-free on Saturday night as well. Given the quantity of food I consumed, it was probably a good thing.

Sunday Morning:

Race morning! The campground was electric with nervous energy and long bathroom lines. A bit of breakfast, some tire pumping, and it was business time.

Enter autopilot race mode.

On the note of being burnt out, one critical aspect of any race is having your head in it. Now, for the last several seasons, my mentality has been inspired by this guy's race report, who in addition to being rather comical, moved rather quickly around the racecourse, so I consider his advice pretty legit. What is that mentality, you may ask? Being awesome and reminding yourself of it regularly--like this:

"I am on my bike and I am passing people with extreme prejudice. Not only is that awesome, but I am, in fact, awesome and will continue to be so for an unforeseeable time into the future."

or

"This run hurts far more than it should for the pace I am presently going. But I am awesome and will be more awesome now that I have chosen to run faster in spite of that discomfort. Awesome."

Being a slow swimmer, I can't think of an appropriate third example. I'll leave that as an exercise for the more fishy readers.

If there's a common thread about the awesome mentality, it's its awesomeness. With an extra dose of awesome thrown on top. Yeah.

This strategy is especially effective on longer races where you can lose focus and the positive mentality has delivered me to some rather decent half-ironmans and Olympic distance races. But given the already noted burnout I thought the next morning was a fine opportunity to pull out a new game plan. A few months ago, I heard a Dos Equis commercial and the tag line stuck with me:

--Stay thirsty my friends--

Now, I'm nowhere near as interesting as the most interesting man in the world, nor is my beard registered on an organ donor list, but the tag line makes for an effective, positive mantra for a hot, dusty, hard race like Wildflower. What's better than something that tells you to both stay well hydrated and in the game? I can't think of much. That, and I was quite envious of the long course racer's beer consumption at the TCSD dinner. So I rocked out that mantra all over the course. Well, except the swim, since I didn't want to be THAT well hydrated.

Coming back to the race, my transition area somehow set itself up, and some other pre-race habits just happened. I was in a surprisingly clear mindset, fully centered in the present and immersed in it. None of the burnout mentality remained. Saw several of my old teammates from OSU and banter with them for a little bit before heading out for a decent swim warm up. It was go time. The race crew herd up the collegiate men and after a little Star Spangled fanfare we line up for the gun. Time compresses. The entire history of man can be retold between each heartbeat.

The starter raises the gun and pulls the trigger.

With a bang we're off in a mass of churned water and humanity. For those trying to keep track at home, I suggest this video as a good primer/training session for the insanity known as a Wildflower swim start. It's something I look forward to each year, in spite of the abuse one receives as result. Actually, this year wasn't too bad, and nowhere near as bad as the pummeling I experienced at Collegiate Nationals two weeks prior. For some reason, the peeps up in the front of the pack decided that going 30 meters to the left of the first buoy was a good idea, and like a proper school of fish, we all followed in the leader's thrashing wake. Things broke up thereafter, and I bounced from one set of feet to another, realizing somewhere along the line that I felt way too good. Evidently, I didn't go out fast enough and was clearly in the wrong pack of swimmers. Not much I could do about that now. Well, except try and jump on the feet of the very fast and aforementioned Lisa Fong and another gal, who were leading the woman's wave. They touched terra firma at the same time that I did. Thing is, Lisa was basically tied for the second fastest woman out of the water on the day and started 5 minutes later than us collegiate men. Good, no--awesome for her, not so good for me. Well, the advantage of swimming slowly is that you're fresh for the rest of the course, right? Right.

Speaking of good swims: our very own Tim Ray and Robert Krohn were second and sixth, respectively, out of the water in the men's collegiate race. Likewise, Will Pandori and Tina Yuan must have found some webbing in their hands for the amount that each of them have improved on the swim this year as well. Way to pull it in, guys.

Anyways, as usual, I was completely disoriented from the swim and actually had to sit down to put my bike shoes and helmet on. As in, "someone please stop the world from spinning, I'd like to get off," kind of dizziness. One of these days I'll actually learn to buy some ear plugs to keep the cold water out but until then, I'll be saddled with slow T1's. So not a terribly great start to the morning, but that's okay, and a situation I've become unfortunately used to. Big Bird 1, my alarmingly yellow bike, and I managed our way to the bike mount line and next on the race checklist was, "kick ass on the bike."

So that's what I commenced to do by launching myself up Lynch hill with the fury of a thousand... uh... a thousand really angry, furious things. All while reminding myself to remain thirsty, my friends. So thirsty I remained. At the top of Lynch hill the course treats racers to a very fast, fun complex of sweeping downhill corners. I was feeling good and enjoying the process known as "dream crushing" on hapless souls that had the audacity to be in front of me on bike. Or were in front of me for a little while. Wildflower's 40k bike course has approximately 3 inches of flat ground, so one gets very used to going from 40 to 12 mph and back again. This also makes it a really slow, challenging, albeit beautiful and very fun bike course. My general fluid/pacing strategy was in full force: drink more on the first half of the bike, even up to the point where I feel a little sick to give my body plenty of time to absorb the liquids. Being slightly queasy has the advantage of keeping me a little throttled back so I don't go out too quickly as well.

Around the 18th or 19th kilometer, I came upon a fast-riding Robert, who was being chased by Marc, who in turn looked like he was riding in fear of the hounds from hell, who were being cruelly driven by none other than Tim. This is the truth and I speak no lies. Coach Chris, representing Mesa College, was in the mix there somewhere as well, and having a blazing fast bike to boot. They, of course were going the opposite direction and looking very strong. I was still feeling good, hitting the turn around in 23rd place (me? count? never...) having left many a smoldering soul in my wake since the swim, and being smoked by one biker dude that was committing some major violence on his pedals. Trying to keep with him proved futile, but considering he had the 3rd fastest bike of the day, probably a good idea. The whole thirsty gig was a good mantra, as I was right on nutritionally--2/3 of the bottle gone at the half way point. The second half of the ride I put another couple folks in the rear view mirror and was about to get through numero three and four when I dropped my chain. In the furious 15 seconds that it took to get myself back together, not only had I octupled the amount of adrenaline in my system, but had a support motorcycle asking if I needed help. That, my friends, is quality race support. Not that I needed it, but it was nice to have available and speaks to the quality of the event.

Actually let me step outside of my own race report to talk about one other awesome performance. Like getting a major flat on the way out to the halfway point, breaking your replacement tube, and walking a bunch of miles BACK to an intersection to get a ride home. Upon arriving at said intersection someone gives you a tube, and has a real pump in their car. So you fix said tire, and race the rest of the course with a smile on your face. Now, personally, if this happened to me, I'm pretty sure my first order of business would be a fine temper tantrum, followed by calling it a day once I arrived at the intersection, but our own Michaela chose not to pack it in. Subtract, oh, at least 45 minutes from her time for the inconvenience and you've got a very solid time. Awesome.

Back to the adrenaline--my shoes became known as the interface between anger and propulsion as I covered the lost ground. The remainder of the return flight was punctuated with giving hang loose signs to many of the studly men and women wearing blue and white argyle. Alex was moving far too fast for a dude on a hybrid bike--get this boy on a road bike and all bets are off. Allison and Jennifer Gin get major bonus points for their uplifting shout outs on the bike, as does Jeffrey Lo. It's not easy to go as fast as these folks were going and have the lungs left to give cheer. The top of Lynch hill found me in 19th place, and not a soul in sight. Well, a racing soul that is. So empty road + Lynch Hill + no brakes = very fast down hill. Very fast downhill. The bottom turn of Lynch hill proved to be thrillingly terrifying, to say the least. Got my shoes off before the bike dismount line and touched down in a sprint. Actually, I came in too fast and nearly tripped over my feet, but either way, I pretty much felt like a rockstar. A thirsty rockstar, that is.

Unlike T1, T2 went very quickly and I was out on the run course with the usual gorilla legs. Usually, I can run hard in spite of them, but they didn't want to go any faster than their rather pedestrian starting pace until a mile or so in. The arduous, long, unshaded hill that dominates the second half of the run is an excellent place for an exorcism, seeing as one's demons all come out at once. So I fought the demons until about 1/2 way up the huge hill, when I decided that I could run much faster than I was. It came from the realization that somewhere close behind me, Nick Sigmon was chewing up asphalt faster than a Caterpillar D11, as evidenced by his 3rd fastest collegiate and 13th fastest overall run time. So I ran faster and it was good. Fear is an excellent motivator, to say the least. Being as I was staying thirsty, the very excellently staffed aid stations provided the necessary relief in the form of copious water that mostly missed my mouth, but found my face, neck and jersey better targets. That and hoses--thank God for the hoses. Cresting the top of the Lynch hill, I had a second chance to descend although this one didn't go as well as the first. C'est la vie. From the bottom of the hill to the finish it's about a quarter mile, and with no one in striking distance, I decided to kick it in anyways. It hurt, but I wanted that finish line now--some 8 seconds faster than my previous course PR.

After a few minutes of gathering myself and congratulating anything that moved, likely including non-racers, I ran into a few of my old OSU teammates and had a short moment to celebrate our respective finishes and catch up. Otherwise, I commenced a sit in the shade with aforementioned studly UCSD men and women, ate as many strawberries as I could, consumed copious quantities of water and eventually jumped in the lake to cool off. While still balmy compared to other swims this year, I swear the water got colder from the morning to the afternoon. Post swim, a group of us collected and commenced to head back up the huge hill. Wildflower is actually a quadrathlon-in-disguise, where the final leg is getting back to the campground with all your stuff. Before leaving, Sarah's parents graciously and generously stuffed us full of amazing, home cooked food. On a scale from 1 to 10, it was awesome. The spring rolls and quiche were just that good. Allison's mom brought peanut butter-chocolate bars that were deadly good too. So we ate like kings and queens before jumping in cars to head back south.

The drive home went by much faster given we hit very minimal LA traffic and didn't stop for food. Once we were within iPhone data-plan range, we made a Pandora station by committee. Every song had to be listened to and subsequently voted on. Being as we had 4 people in the car, driver got double votes in the case of a tie. For some reason, the station really, really liked Radiohead, but I was in the minority there.

Team scores are the sum of the respective top three males and females. Leading the team, Lisa and Marc put down blazing fast times which resulted in both getting 3rd place collegiate and respectively 3rd and 12th overall. Allison and Sarah filled up the other two scoring female spots with strong races while Tim and I (rather unexpectedly, I admit) capped off the male side. Talina, hot on the heels of Sarah, must win some kind of journeyman award for rock solid consistency and Whitney found some new speed on a very tough course. Adam, Ben Horne and Will decided somewhere along the course to finish within 25 seconds of each other and Ian gets a tough mans award for a solid performance with a jacked up back. Brianne gets a huge shout out for her finish after basically getting a new knee. Well that, and her mad peeling-an-orange-in-a-single-strip skills. It's impressive, I have to admit.

The times led the team to a very-close 2nd place collegiate team performance--only two and half minutes down on the winner and an hour up on the 3rd place team. Congratulations to the large score of the team who had their first Wildflower experience and to veterans alike--you guys did great and made us proud to be Tritons! Finishing this race is a major accomplishment no matter how fast or slow you go. All in all the weekend went great, with fine company and an awesome, challenging course. A fine way to finish off a highly successful season.

Women's Results

Men's Results

Full results are available here.

Thank you to all our sponsors:

• Avia for awesomely amazing shoes
• Clif Bar for not only deliciously functional race food, but the commercial I just used as well
• Blue Cycles for making bicycles that can probably go faster than the speed of light
• Xterra Wetsuits for super comfortable and very fast wetsuits
• Cyclops for making really hard but high quality bike trainers that make us fast and stuff. And all the other goodies too.

Our coaches are the ever-incredible Mac Brown, Chris Burnham and Marcus Catano, who have invested copious amounts of time into the teams success.

Thank you TCSD for your near-infinite hospitality-- we love being TCSD members, and our combined San Diego-ness made the weekend a way more awesome experience.

If you're still reading this--you should definitely sign up, or convince the person nearest to you to sign up for the Grove Run!