It’s the middle of the night, and I’m in the middle of Texas, passing through this wind field with turbines as far as the eye could see. Red lights beat in unison like a resting heart rate, only mimicked by the effortless cadence of their giant arms. -Holland would be jealous of these windmills. So, I’m zipping along at 70mph, and my little Honda is clicking just under 3000rpm. My mind is wandering, like it often does, and I’m reflecting on the Ironman 70.3 Austin race I just competed in. It’s like applied physics. Back to the drawing board. Crunching numbers. Analyzing.
I recall a conversation I had with good friend, Jesse, last time he stopped at KompetitveEdge. Basically, the conversation went like this: “You suck at swimming, Brandon!” “Yep. I know.” -So, he really didn’t say that. Nor did he imply it, but we did talk about how much more effort it takes for a poor swimmer to struggle through a 1.2mi drown-fest, and what it does to your other two disciplines. Think about what it does to you when you get out of the water, five, seven, nay, TEN full minutes behind a pro field of triathletes. Maybe you don’t have to think about it, because you’re amphibious. “Lucky!” (Said in the voice of Napoleon Dynamite.) Yes, one might argue that I am swimming slower than the entire field, therefore not exerting SO much energy. -Well, you’re wrong. Sorry. But you are. So let’s think about the negative impact a poor swim might have on your bike and run. Not only am I 10:00 behind the game, but so exhausted do to the thirty minute brawl I just lost. Because so much energy was used to stay afloat, my bike and run suffer severely. Jesse and I thought that if I could improve my swim by 5:00, I might better my overall time by 10:00-15:00 or so. The math doesn’t work, but the logic does. At least to this landshark it does. I guess I know what I’m doing this Winter. -Happy laps!