The 2003 Max Triathlons Weekend

The 1/2Max Triathlon weekend kicked off with a Saturday race expo and packet pick-up, which took place under very pleasant June skies. The early morning forecast for the following day’s race was less favorable, but that didn’t dampen the positive vibe that transcended all. Vendors, event staff, and particularly local racers, were juiced by the knowledge this event was breaking new metro tri-ground. The prevailing attitude regarding any potential race-day raindrops was one of "C'est la vie.  At least we have a big time event to get rained on, and it sure beats sunny skies and no event."

This weekend had been anticipated since its January announcement and probably could have been expressed in the mathematical terms : one  racer’s Race Director + one hospitable and accommodating local venue showcasing its natural resources  + one burgeoning local triathlon community hungry for the real deal = a virtual can’t miss weekend. The buzz at the expo seemed to validate that equation.

The requisite vendor’s booths hawked the latest techno tri-gadgetry. Freshly shaven legs moved race-packet-toting triathletes from one tent to the next to  purchase essentials, gather race-specific information, or just plain tri-schmooze.  All the while, music churned in the background only broken by the periodic announcements of key updates.  Outside the expo, a well-spaced line of cars explored the bike course, following its trail of fluorescent arrows, charting turns, and assessing potential gearings.  In short, inside and out, the energy was high.

For locals, the event offered the rare opportunity to do a big time event without the requisite long drives and hotel room.  Still, some chose to find convenient sleeping quarters in homes or condos on or near Innsbrook property.  While this may have provided only marginal time savings on race morning, it did manage for some to still make it a weekend get-away of sorts.  As for the contingent of racers for which room and board constituted a must-have, their influx of out-of-state license plates reached levels not seen at a metro triathlon in many years.  When the tally was finished, 30 states were represented at Sunday's swim start.

The expo pressed on into Friday evening with a moderately attended pasta dinner and concert.  By then, most of the athletes found down-time and early retirement preferable to partying.  Perhaps this was partially attributable to one of the key topics of conversation all day, the "mother of all half-marathons" that awaited them the next day.

Behind the scenes, race staff were faced with a potential all-nighter as the finish area couldn't be be constructed until after 11pm due to a wedding reception.  So while most athletes were dreaming of PR's, the Max crew made final preparations into the wee hours of Sunday morning.

It's not an uncommon phenomenon for even a seasoned triathlete to experience a fitful night's sleep on the eve of a race.  Replaying positive imagery, re-reading mental notes, and rehearsing the race are the principle culprits.  If the weather forecast was right, factoring wet pavement into the bike course might have been another sleep robbing concern.

A funny thing happened when the 4am alarms began rousing athletes.  No one recalled hearing the patter of overnight raindrops and a peek out at the pre-dawn sky revealed stars instead of clouds.  Even as the first aura of light reached up from around the eastern curve of the horizon, it exposed mostly clear sky.  Thankfully, the weatherman was wrong regarding the precipitation, but he was going to be right about the wind.  More on that later.

What began as a trickle of athletes making their way to check-in soon gave way to a stream of backpack laden triathletes pushing their two-wheeled  machines inexorably along.  Most wore smiles, some were studies of introspection, all seemed pumped and ready to rock.  An mp-3 player jacked to the PA system kept them in music.  An open-rack policy rewarded the early birds with what they felt were the cherry spots, but it may have been more about their mental comfort than transition efficiency as nearly five hours of racing is rarely won in transition.

One overnight development brought concern to the race staff.  Saboteurs armed with spray paint attempted to alter the bike course.  They eluded capture but in all likelihood they could have been tracked by a trail of empty cans of cheep beer.  Fortunately,  the problem was recognized and addressed by fast-reacting course officials before it could disrupt the race.

Eventually the transition area filled, the athletes made final tweaks to their  preparations, and everyone headed en masse to the swim start.  At the water's edge, Mark Livesay could have made good use of a bullhorn, but his pre-race message got out none the less.  The deep water start had nervous athletes treading water for a few minutes until, with a sudden and startling boom, the cannon sent the first wave off across pristine Lake Aspen.  All subsequent wave starts would receive equal artillery treatment until the shore was devoid of swim caps.

The sun was out and the race was on.  The wind had gradually picked up through the morning so that by now it whipped the lake into a small chop.  As the pack began to bore through it, many swimmers could be seen grabbing a draft at the feet of the stronger ones who broke the water for them.  The dominant  swimmers like Thom Bick were oblivious  to it and forged ahead.  After emerging first from the lake, like the rest of the competitors, he found the next step to be straight up, as in the hill to T1.  The grassy run-up was a challenging few hundred yards after a race-pace effort in the drink.

Conventional tri-wisdom holds that the first swimmer out of a long course tri usually only has temporary control of the race.  Even the strongest biker, after wresting the lead, most often doesn't own the race to the end.  At half-iron and beyond, the spoils often go to the freshest legs on the run.  With the hellish series of rollers awaiting their quads on this run course, it seemed that logic could prove sound again.

Transition is most often described as controlled chaos.  As the swimmers poured into the cordoned-off rows of bike racks, grabbed their bikes, and headed to the mount line, the effects of adrenaline and lightheadedness became apparent.  The ride exit chute became a hazardous funneling point as many athletes struggled to mount their bikes and roll off smoothly.  The cooler heads among them stood out as they made the conversion from swimmer to cyclist seamlessly and safely.  Eventually, with no serious repercussions, all the athletes were processed through as the spectators noisily urged them on.

Once on the bike, the racers  spun along three miles of narrow, scenic roads that cut through the rolling, wooded hills of Innsbrook before they headed out onto the bike course proper.  Out on the open road, the cyclists soon found their big gears as a 12 mph tail wind gusting to 24 nudged them along.   Many held 30-35 mph for an extended run.  It also didn't hurt to have the several mile stretch of smooth-rolling, week-old asphalt called Hwy M to hammer either.

The mileage-exacting out and back spur on Schanarre Road required a somewhat narrow turn-around and a handful of cyclists went down to trying to negotiate the one-eighty in tight quarters.  Mostly, bruised egos resulted and they remounted and sped back down the gentle grade.  As anyone who has ridden knows, one truism about cycling that usually holds is that the wind giveth and the wind taketh away.  The right at Morrison sent the riders into the double-edged brunt of headwind and lactic acid.

Withstanding that section eventually rewarded the riders with another jaunt on the glassy smooth Hwy M and on to the downhill portion of the course along South Strack.  The back half of the course presented the only climbs of significance as the terrain increasingly undulated, the closer they returned to Innsbrook.  A final turn through the front gate led the bikers to a waiting crowd of cowbell-clanging well-wishers who lined the road on both sides.

If there was a spine-tingling race day image, it had to have been the athletes swooping down the steep entry road and launching themselves off the speed bump at the bottom.  The crowd that had assembled along that spot held its collective breath as the bikes went airborne to varying degrees.

Guiding the race back through the spectators with a looped course was a nice touch for viewers and no doubt gave the athletes a boost as well.  At this point the 1/4Maxers peeled off and headed to T2 while the 1/2Maxers proceeded on with lap two.  The sun was out in earnest but the race was just heating up.

The wave start format lacked a finish with the finality of a mass start, so as far as the early leaders were concerned, any tactical strategy they employed was confined to their wave.  While the first wave was likely to produce the overall winner, they still would have to finish and wait to see if the later age-groups could produce a faster time.  But first, they had to finish.

Brian Bell and Kyle Handley quickly displaced Bick as leader once the race got out of the water.  Bell was determined to distance himself as much as possible on the bike and hope for the best on the run.  For all of his effort, Bell only managed one-tenth mph better than Handley through the 56 miles.  Bick would fade to 69th before his day was done.  Handley had no such intention.

When the triathlon was eventually reduced to a footrace, the bike had already exacted its toll in Bell's legs.  Bell's 7:15 half-marathon pace was respectable on such a tough course, it wasn't fast enough to fend off Handley's charge at 6:51 per mile.  With less than four miles to the finish, Handley made the pass and never looked back.  He crossed the line in 4:29:29, putting two-and-a-half minutes on Bell. 

While the race announcers virtually anointed him champion of the inaugural 1/2Max Triathlon, the 24 year old Handley knew it wasn't over until it was over.  Several 30-somethings were quite capable of dislodging his position.  This was indeed the case for Bell as he got pushed to fifth by Allen Hurd (33), Rick Mann of Bethalto, IL (35), and Ross Freese (39).  Hurd pounded out a remarkable 6:23 pace in the hills to get within 13 seconds of the Handley, but that was as close as it got.

The women's race mirrored the men's as the swim and bike were merely preludes to the footrace in which Shelby Sheffield's steady 7:02 pace enabled her put distance between herself and Amber Mounday.  Sheffield's 4:41:27 positioned her tenth overall and established the women's benchmark to aimed at next year.

1/2Max drew the lion's share of attention as it was the event the majority of the participants signed up to do, but the shorter 1/4Max produced some outstanding efforts as well.  Barry Knight coupled his blazing bike split with an above average swim and run to win by nearly four minutes.  He was the pre-race favorite and his 2:03:57 lived up to the billing.  Even Ted Zderic's amazing 5:44 run pace couldn't take enough bite out of Knight's lead.  Jennifer Harrison won the women's crown even more handily as her 2:23:47 produced a margin of victory of nearly 6 minutes over Molly Vetter of Columbia, Missouri.

All told, 313 QuarterMax racers made it to the finish line while 422 HalfMax racers received crafted finishers medals.  For their efforts, HalfMax age-group winners were awarded $400 Aquaman wetsuits.  Second place finishers were given a quality cycling jersey.  Those who stayed for the award ceremony and the high-dollar raffle, watched incredulously as Mark Livesay tried futilely to give away a $2000 triathlon bike from from the pool of race numbers.  In the end, he finally matched a lucky person in attendance.  The $1400 CompuTrainer encountered a similar fate but was likewise eventually claimed.

The weekend's activities delivered on many counts.  For the athletes, it afforded the means to break some very personal physical and mental bounds in a way they couldn't have done locally to this date.  For Innsbrook, it created a window into a social strata possessing both  remarkable drive and desirable demographics.  For the race director, it validated his hunch that an UltraMax spin-off would succeed in the St Louis metro area.  For the metro tri community, it fast-forwarded their sport to the modern age.