triathlon Archives - rob balucas

IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake Race Recap

There’s a recent pop-rap song with the line, “I live my life like my blood type: B positive” and I cringe at how dumb that sounds. And I say that as someone who is super positive most of the time.

But what I’ve been feeling isn’t positive and at the same time, I don’t want to rant like a victim to you here. Today I finally broke through my anger with a powerful thought (at least for me in this moment) that I’ll share at the end.

You have Reasons or Results

I wanted to crush my goals this year. I wanted to crush in my races. I wanted to surprise everyone. Instead, I’ve racked up 2 IRONMAN 70.3 DNFs (Did Not Finish) and a flat tire finish at the LA Marathon.

The first DNF at Oceanside, as it turns out, was because the bike shop set up my chain through my rear derailleur the wrong way and it cost me power – which becomes a big deal over 56 miles and 4 hours and 2,800 ft of climbing. Basically, the chain was rubbing across a piece of metal the whole time. I missed the bike cut-off time by 12 minutes. Had I not had the problem with my chain I would have made the cut-off easily.

At the LA Marathon, I popped my front tire while braking on a steep downhill in the first 2 miles of the race. I locked up the brake and the tire skidded across the pavement, burnt a hole in the rubber and it popped. It was so early in the race, and I had every wave of the Marathon coming soon behind me I just figured to keep going as far as I could. I made it 24 more miles to the finish, but much slower than I could have without a flat.

After so much mechanical issues early in my season, I was really ready to have a clean race at Buffalo Springs Lake.

IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake

The IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake in Lubbock, Texas is the Handcycle Division qualifier to go to the 70.3 World Championships and/or full 140.6 IRONMAN World Championships in Kona. While it was a long shot, it was possible with only 5 Handcycle racers racing. My ultimate goal was to experience this course, have a solid swim, and stretch-goal to qualify for 70.3 World Championships.

It was the first time I’d be travelling by plane in a wheelchair … and with a very big handcycle and racing wheelchair and medical supplies in tow. I’m now a life-size action figure with a lot of accessories. I will save the air travel story for later. The great thing is, things went off without a hitch and the airport personnel were awesome at every turn.

The Race

The weather forecast was comical going in. It was low 90’s the days leading up to and after the race. But race day was forecast at 103°F.

When we left the hotel at 4 am it was REALLY windy. Turned out the day had 27 mph sustained wind with gusts up to 48 mph. Already things looked incredibly rough.

The Swim

The water temperature was 74.8°F which is warm. Add to that some good chop and current because of the wind and you have really tough conditions. But used to train in the San Francisco Bay on the regular so I can handle this … right?

Turns out no. I paused about a quarter of the way thru the 1.2 mile swim to regain my heart rate and breathing and neither would cooperate. I kept playing a game with myself to get 30 good strokes in and I can have a quick pause. Nothing worked to calm my body. My left arm started cramping, I was really hot, and I just had to keep telling myself to get ‘home’ to transition and end this nightmare.

The Bike

I got back to shore where I had to navigate bad pavement in my wheelchair back to my transition area – by rule, I have to push myself. After a decent transition amidst already being frustrated and exhausted, I was off on my favorite and strongest leg = the bike.

releasing the brakes and shaking it out in transition

And then .. right out of transition was a hill ala Wildflower Tri but maybe a third of the distance. In a handcycle, it’s the same challenge as Wildflower for a regular cyclist. That was followed up by 5 more miles of really rough pebble pavement. Rural Texas uses this pebble pavement that even in our minivan scoping the course we could tell it was a rough road for much of the course.

The aforementioned wind was blowing North by Northwest so for the first 10 miles of the primarily North/South course I didn’t notice the wind because it was at my back. But then the course turned South into the wind and my average speed went from 18mph to 10mph. It was like staring down a flat road but cranking like you’re on a climb, which it was mentally frustrating. Especially as the day went on and it got hotter and hotter.

The last 10 miles were again just a mental game of letting go of what I expected to do and just doing whatever it takes to get ‘home’. I was really disappointed. I thought I had already missed the swim cut off with a time of 10 minutes worse than my prior 70.3 in Oceanside. I was going longer on the handcycle than I had in Oceanside which had nearly double the elevation.

I was fighting a headache because my headrest sits above my back axle and it takes every bump or crappy road vibration and drives it directly into my head. Most of the time it’s occasional and that’s fine. But the consistency of the pebble roads took its toll in this race. I literally had to take my head off the headrest to be able to focus on the road clearly.

The End

Once I got ‘home’ into transition I decided I was done. My tank was on empty and with the temperatures and climbs in the run, I didn’t think I’d make it. I decided not to go all the way to failure on course.

In the end, only 2 of the 5 of us hand-cyclists made it to the finish line. Turns out, my swim time did NOT disqualify me. If I had only finished, I could have punched a ticket to a World Championships (WC). But even as I sat there in transition doing the math, I decided I wasn’t ready to go. I don’t want to go just to go. And the couple of months between now and the 70.3 WC I was going to improve enough to not be flailing again on the next stage.

2018: DNF

And so goes my full season and first races. A marathon back-of-the-pack finish and 2 DNFs at 70.3 IRONMAN.

I wanted to be the one that surprised people. I wanted to have solid performances to talk about and not this shit I’m writing right now.

expectation is the root of all evil

They say money is the root of all evil.

I say expectation is the root of all evil.

I believe most frustration and disappointment comes from when we get attached to an expected outcome, and then we don’t get it. Usually, the frustration is biggest when it’s from a person. It’s exponentially bigger when the expectation is of ourselves.

I’m my prime example and I’m no better at handling it for being the wiser.

A Week Later

As I mentioned, in the beginning, I had a thought today that melted away all my frustration and disappointment. Here was that thought process:

“I’m ready to just quit. I don’t have to do this.”

“Actually… I get to do this.”

“There are so many people struggling with bigger things than this.”

“I get to do this because there is a tribe behind me who supports me every step of the way regardless of the outcome.”

“And I couldn’t do this without them.”

Which is completely true. I put out a crowdfund to a small group about a month prior to the race because I realized I didn’t have all the funds to travel to this race with all my gear. They put up $2,000 in a week.

I hated asking. Until some of the comments that came with contributions:

“By the way, Rob, you aren’t racing for you…you’re racing for all of us.”

“Keep it up and don’t hesitate to let us know how we can help support you brother!”

“You are an incredible human being Rob. Keep at those goals! We love you.”

Add to that some contributions of time from some specific people:

My friend Kristin and her daughter, Cayla, got me to and from the airport at home at VERY inconvenient hours. They also helped me with race chair training on weekends.

My cousins, the Loefflers, took time from their busy schedule with two young kids during weekend mornings and took me to the lake to swim open water. Daniel also helped do the heavy lifting on a number of occasions and sought out phantom studs in my ceiling.

There’s my competitors in the race: Evan and Daniel. Both Evan and Daniel gave me pointers on training, nutrition, but most importantly travelling with all this gear. I was intimidated at first, to be honest. But I reached out anyway. I find in triathlon, there’s a ton of camaraderie amongst ‘competitors’ that makes me appreciate this sport more.

For both the Challenged Athletes Foundation for the racing grant and Kelly Brush Foundation for the equipment grant!

Coach Matt Hurley at Purplepatch Fitness, who laid out the plan to be fit and fresh on race day and kept my head in the game!

And certainly saving the best for last here: John. Who I know I’m not the only one who’s benefitted from his generosity with his time, flew with me from Denver to Texas. He’s the best friend/sherpa in the business and I REALLY could not have done many of my races without him.

This may seem like a redundant theme in my race recaps this year.

So be it.

I’ve found that surrounding myself with great people is one of the few things that really matter in life.

I’ve found that getting over myself and my ego and asking for support gets me what I need and also allows others to give, and they’re ready to do it.

Focusing out and gratitude are powerful elixirs for self-pity.

I wasn’t ready to publish this blog on a positive note until the positivity was genuine, not some platitude of the right things to say. I knew I was there when I was wiping my eye as I wrote.

Oceanside 70.3 IRONMAN Race Recap

Nearly 1,000 days ago – 945 to be exact – I was ready to do my first 70.3 IRONMAN in Santa Cruz. And as the story unfolded, I crashed and life took a wild turn.

Saturday, April 7, 2018 I crossed the finish line at IRONMAN 70.3 Oceanside and completed the goal I set almost 3 years ago.

Race recap: A series of unfortunate events

swim

As before I was hurt, swimming was my biggest hurdle. About every 3-5 minutes of 65 minutes I had this thought process: ‘I may not make the cutoff. They’re going to have to assist me out of the water midway through. I worked this hard to just get pulled in the first hour. That’ll be a shit story to tell.’

But every time I stopped to look around, no one was pulling me out of the water. None of the lifeguards looked concerned about me, so I had to keep going.

THEN, at the last 150 yards, my goggle strap came loose. Then they just straight up came off. And I had to swim ‘blind’. And I probably swam better than the prior 1.1 miles. I finished the swim 5 minutes under the swim cutoff time.

But I knew once I was out of the water, I’d make it the rest of the way – or so I thought…

bike

The first two hours of the bike I averaged just under my goal of 15 mph and I felt fine. Then came 70% of the 2,700 ft of climbing in the next 12 or so miles. Climbing in a TT handcycle is a slow grind. Think 1.2 – 2.5 miles per hour on a ±6% grade. All you can do is find a groove and just not stop. If you stop, you’re all but stuck.

Some people were walking their bikes up the hill and I thought, ‘How nice. If only I had that option…’ It reminded me of riding in the SF Bay Area where climbing is a must and how I had gotten strong in a relative short amount of time before my injury.

After the 3 intense hills I couldn’t find strength to muster my target of 15 mph on the last 10 miles of relative flats.

As a result, I missed the official bike cut-off by 12 minutes and officially I got a DNF on the race. DNF stands for ‘Did Not Finish’. I did however complete the whole course under the full race cutoff time. It’s somewhat of a technical rules thing – I still got to complete the run/push, cross the finish line and all that. No other Open Handcycle Division person made it under the bike cutoff – out of 2 of us.

run

The run was great because it’s 2 loops of a beachfront course with people cheering the whole way. I was long on the run against my goal because of some short, steep hills and narrow course having to navigate my racing wheelchair around other racers on a beach strand.

Crossing the finish line was amazing. I did it. Holy balls. I did it.

Support

As always, it was amazing to have friends there.

Big shout out to Hugh and Rossi! My coach, Matt Hurley of PurplePatch Fitness, had two childhood friends there to cheer and they were my ‘handlers’ for the event. They killed it helping me in transition as well as before and after the race.

And the Freeman family! My college buddy Justin and his wife and kids hosted me for the weekend and made the journey so easy and enjoyable. It was great to get to know Sarah and the kids in the midst of all this. If you’re ever in North San Diego, I highly recommend the Freeman Bed &Breakfast!!
(Uh, for the record, they’re not really a B&B).

If who you have around you is the highest measure of who you are, then I am a better person than I could possibly humble-brag to be.

Operation Rebound

Challenged Athlete Foundation is sponsor of this 70.3 IRONMAN because it’s in their backyard, but more importantly because they support injured veterans through their Operation Rebound initiative. The course goes through Camp Pendleton and military is everywhere as Oceanside is a military town.

I was just a civilian racing alongside some vets with incredible stories of comeback and triumph. It was incredible to be surrounded by heros. It was incredible to be side by side with people who had similar injuries and similar mindsets to not only survive by thrive regardless of it all.

As I say when I speak to groups, “You are not alone. Someone has had your problem before.”

we’re not meant to be alone

If there’s one axiom that I can apply to this experience for you to contemplate, it’s the idea that we were not meant to be alone.

Many times in the week or two leading up to the race, and definitely the 48 hours prior to the race, any time I was alone and had the chance to get up in my head I started getting nervous and anxious. It started having physical effects in the rest of my body.

But the very moment Justin brought me coffee in the morning; the moment I could have a chat with my coach; the moment I was surrounded by other challenged athletes, it just all went away. Anxiety turned into excitement. I put in the work and now it was time to go cross the finish line.

I am a fan of surrounding yourself by great people. I highly recommend it.

escape from alcatraz 2017 | race report

One of the things on my bucket list in this new form is the Alcatraz swim.

That’s where they take you from San Francisco to Alcatraz Island in a perfectly good boat and you jump out and swim back to San Francisco. It’s about 1.5 miles and if you don’t swim just right against the current, you’ll be swept out towards the Golden Gate Bridge.

I swam Alcatraz in the annual Sharkfest swim before I was injured and indeed was swept out so far that an escort boat had to pick me up.

The problem is that I was a poor swimmer prior to my spinal cord injury (SCI) and I’m worse now. I haven’t been able to swim all year because of pressure wounds on my ankles that haven’t healed since September of last year.

So while those are taking forever to heal, I’m handcycling and doing triathlons as a relay.

I found my way into the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon this year as part of a relay along with Alan Shanken who is a below the knee amputee and has done every leg of this triathlon a number of times. We were a part of the Challenged Athlete Foundation contingent that was there.

When I got there in the morning, I found out the swim had been cancelled for the first time in the 37-year history of the race. There was a small craft advisory and heavy wind conditions that they deemed unsafe. So things started out with a bit of drama as race officials and racers figured out how to proceed with just the 18-mile ride and 8-mile run.

I was the only handcycle there this year. I quickly understood why. With 1,600 feet of climbing in under 18 miles of riding, it’s a tough challenge. It’s not something you just go do in a handcycle. I was out there for just under 2 hours. Most people on regular bikes take just over an hour.

So having plenty of time for thoughts to run through my head, here’s some of the more interesting items:

Don’t Be Afraid To Fail

Alan, my aforementioned relay partner, constantly asked me if I was ready for this challenge and if I think I could do it. Like up until the night before. And it really didn’t get into my head … until the night before. But I knew a couple of things:

I had done 1,600 feet of climbing once before, except over 35 miles of riding. It was last December when I was in far less racing shape. I was going for 50 miles but my arms gave out and the support van for our ride had to come get me. Now, I was in better shape and I knew what I was in for because I had ridden the course many times before I my SCI.

During check-in, the race organizers all knew who I was, as the only hand-cyclist. Which kind of worried me because it is a very technical course with a dozen left turns and a dozen right turns, many at the bottom of fast hills. But it also gave me comfort in that the staff on the racecourse were aware and prepared for me.

My biggest fear really was time. The original cut-off for the bike was 10:30am. If you were still on the bike leg at that time, a sweeper van would pick you up and take you to transition to go on to the run. My math looked like this: I do 18 miles regularly and it takes me about 1:15 (1 hour & 15 minutes) with 500 feet of climbing. Throw in another 1,100 ft climb to add 30 more minutes. My goal then was to do the ride in 1:45 and that gave me a buffer of about 30 minutes if Alan came in from the swim around 8:30am.

Besides the fact the swim was cancelled and the cut-off was extended, I was not picked up by the sweeper van and came in at 1:57 versus my 1:45 goal.

#GRIND

The biggest difference between handcycle and regular cycling is that you can’t put out as much power with your upper-body as with your legs. I say upper-body because the primary muscles used in handcycling are chest and back. Arms play more of a secondary role, as opposed to what most assume.

That being said, climbing is twice as hard and monotonous because you go about twice as slow.

Becoming a cyclist in the San Francisco Bay Area, I learned to love climbing. Partly because you have little choice with all the hills here and partly because the view from the tops are amazing. Eventually you get good at it and learn the nuance of technique.

But long climbs on a handcycle take twice as much patience and fortitude. There were many times in this race my Garmin GPS computer stopped while I was climbing because it didn’t think I was moving. Which by the way adds the biggest insult to injury when EVERYBODY – even the chump racing this TRIATHLON on a tourist rental bike – is passing you.

What I knew I had to do was buckle down and GRIND it out. Get my gearing right and just keep pedaling.

It felt like this race was 75% climbing. That means spending 75% of the time under 8mph. Then when I hit 30mph+ on a downhill, the distance was covered quickly before I was on another freaking hill climb.

Towards the end, I’d just find a marker 25 ft up the hill – like a traffic cone – and just keeping stroking to that cone and then the next and the next.

Keep Pedaling

I knew one thing for damn sure. I couldn’t stop pedaling.

There’s one stretch racers know called Seal Rock Drive. After you’ve climbed the hill starting at Ocean Beach and passing Cliff House Restaurant, you get a short reprieve before turning right onto this insane short hill that at it’s worst is 17.1% incline.

At that point I was 12 miles into the race and was warding off cramps with nutrition. Going in, this was the part we all were most concerned with.

But I buckled in. It was tough as all hell. I picked a marker 5 feet in front of me to get to – that’s how micro my goals were at that point – and then the next and then the next.

I. Just. Could. Not. Stop. Pedaling.

But I really wanted to stop.

Two things lifted me:

The other racers screaming encouragement as they passed me.
Me screaming at the top of my lungs like a maniac weight lifter.

I knew I’d laugh at myself later, but in the moment I let it all loose and could hear my screaming echo off the homes lining the street.

Coaching Pays In Spades

Throughout the race I could hear my coach laying out specific strategy on how to race. I can’t say enough about getting coaching in life and especially in triathlon.

In the first triathlon I raced in after my SCI, my coach Neil Fraiser, rode with me and just coached me through. Approaching a long incline he said, “…now just hit your Granny gears and settle in to the slow pace and go. Don’t kill yourself trying to go fast up the hill.”

That reminder to be patient and settle into a steady pace without using up all my energy was the entire strategy for this race.

I knew how and when to shift into what gear to keep steady cadence and maintain momentum both into and out of inclines and descents.

I knew how and when to hydrate, how and when to take energy blocks and what kind of energy blocks so as to maintain my energy and not bonk or cramp.

All because of great coaching that taught me race strategy.

The Love

One of the things I appreciate most about triathlon is the community. Because we’re pretty high on endorphins all of the time, we tend to be pretty lovey dovey.

All along the route I heard encouragement from other racers: ‘Good job, mate.’ ‘Nice work.’ And my personal favorite: ‘Respect.’

It was really cool in this race to hear it in American, Australian, Castilian and many other accents.

When I had breath, I made sure to return the love.

I also have to add that it was a privilege to race with the paratriathlon elites. It’s a small community which is great to be a part of. In the paratriathlon category at EFAT was Jamie Brown, who coached me at the CAF paratriathlon camp in 2015 and is currently ranked #1 in the world in his division; Mark Barr and Mo Lahna, both Rio Olympians; Willie Stewart, a parathlete advocate and legend. Oh and of course, my relay partner Alan Shanken, who’s work in the Bay Area and beyond on behalf of Challenged Athlete Foundation is very well-known!

One Last Story I Find Funny .. Now

The race starts with a nice 1.8 mile flat along the Marina and Crissy Field. Out of the shoot I was cruising at 15 mph, but it slowly decreased as I approached the first hill. Part of that was a headwind we’re all familiar with and the other was just coming out a little too hard.

The return is on the same course and I came off the last hill and did a 25 mph sprint all the way to the finish. Part of that I attribute to all the people cheering during that whole stretch as far more people come to cheer later in the race.

The other part was that I was doing nearly 40 mph coming off that hill.

I probably could have been going faster except for the turn at the bottom of that hill.

Also, I can’t promise all my wheels were on the ground at all times.

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