The Tri Town Times: 9/21/20

The Tri Town Times: 9/21/20

Photos from Erin Green's RPI Challenge are up; Bear Lake Brawl concluded with a handful of Boise athletes at the top; The Tour de France came to an entertain end; Our Tri Swap is nearing closer - we hope to see many of you there!

Hi all,
Heres is your weekly TT Times newsletter:
Weekend Race Report:
  • A beautiful photo essay from our very own Scott Conover. If you've been on the fence about gravel riding, take a look at the images Scott captured of cycling power couple Erin and Matt Green.
  • The USA's first triathlon of 2020 with a professional field took place in Bear Lake (southern Idaho). On a cold, wet, and windy day that saw many athletes drop out or not start, Boise local Danielle Dingman secured the women's title, and young triathlon star Sam Long took the men's. Tri Town's very own Travis Wood took 10th place overall in the staked field- despite breaking his collar bone just a few months ago. Results here.
  • 21 year old Tadej Pogacar won the 2020 Tour de France with a brilliant time trial performance on the penultimate stage. He is the youngest Tour champion since before WWII. The Slovenian cyclist also won the white (best young rider) and polka dot (best climber) jerseys.
Events We're Looking Forward To:
  • We're two weeks out from the Annual Tri Swap: October 3rd and 4th from 10am-4pm @ Tri Town Bicycles. If you plan on selling gear at the swap, please plan on dropping that equipment off anytime next week. We accept any swim, bike, or run related gear (does not have to be triathlon specific). Please see our Tri Swap page for all details.
Quote that Struck a Chord:
An empowering pre-race thought from professional triathlete Danielle Dingman:
There are some who underestimate you. There are some who don’t know you. Tomorrow, show those who underestimate you what a mistake they’ve made and those who don’t know you, to never forget.”
If You Have a Moment to Spare:
  • This is what true sportsmanship looks like. When some people show the worst of their character in the heat of the moment, others show their best.
  • Australian senior triathlete Loch Blatchford has to be the most quotable triathlete ever. A few of the gems found in this article:
  • “...Doc called me in and said I had a fatty liver. No big deal, the rest of me was fatty so why not the liver? I was told no grog for two years and then no more than two glasses of low alcohol a day. I haven’t had a drink since that day – 25 years ago.”
  • I can’t afford to race overseas and my GIANT bike was built late last century. So what? Suck it up sunshine, you play the hand you are dealt.
  • "The bike course was hilly and too much for a Sumo on a three-speed. I dismounted and trudged uphill acknowledging the commiserations of those who thought I’d had a mechanical breakdown. It wasn’t the bike. It was the engine that was stuffed.”
Have a great week!
Antonio Gonzalez
Tri Town
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You can find all prior editions of the Tri Town Times here.
Have suggestions on what we should be including, excluding, or changing up? Let me know!



    I noticed a few comments about my triathlon career in your Tri Towns Times of 9/21/20 and thought you might enjoy a summary of my latest race. Cheers Loch

    The day before the race I was interviewed by ABC radio. The final question was for the one piece of advice to offer competitors. I said, if you can’t win make sure you enjoy the race. This is how I did it.
    I knew I had little chance of winning. I was the oldest person racing. The others in my age group were a few years younger and much faster. So, my goals turned to finishing uninjured and to enjoy the journey.
    The swim was fine. A bit hard to find the marker buoys in the morning sun but I had plenty of splash to follow.
    The bike start was a bit chaotic. Narrow exit and entry lanes with cyclists going in both directions. The crowding caused a bit of chaos as some had trouble locking in their shoes and others bumped into the security fence. This was the beginning of the fun.
    I successfully negotiated the streets and made it up and down, up and down, and up and down the Alexandra hills until I hit the motorway. Now I could relax. Thirty plus kilometres of flat, smooth road. What could go wrong. “Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht” (Man plans and God laughs).
    I hit a slight dip. It felt like I had run over a house brick. No brick, just my seat post disappearing into the bike frame. My bike was instantly transformed from tri bike to BMX. My bum was caressing the back wheel and my knees were up my nostrils. “Enjoy!” I shouted to no one in particular. “This is fun,” I sang. But no one was listening. Only thirty-five kilometres to go.
    My quads started to complain. My hamstrings followed soon after. My 79-year-old knees began to grind. The aero bars resulted in an embryonic rather than aerodynamic position. Only thirty-four kilometres to go. And, thankfully go it did.
    I crawled off bike after the slowest bike leg I’d ever done. Quasimodo like I lurched through the bushes and up the path towards Mooloo. Children screamed and mothers clutched them to their breasts. I smiled to reassure them but this only made the screams louder. My legs wanted to go home but my head said, “No!” Surely there was more fun to be had. And there was.
    Towards the top of Alexandra Headland was a small group of enthusiastic supporters. They cheered and clapped and yelled encouragement. They made me feel so good that I turned around and ran partway back down the hill so I could approach them again. It was sad to say goodbye but there was unfinished business. I promised to stop for a chat on the way home.
    Downhill felt good and I broke into a dunny run shuffle. There was a bit of a kerfuffle at the drink station where I shocked a few youngsters by pouring electrolyte over my head to cool myself down. “That’s sports drink!” they cried. “But it says ‘Water’ on the cup,” I answered. “We ran out of cups,” was the explanation. I hope God was enjoying the race. I was giving him plenty of material.
    Past the turn-around and back towards that bloody hill. Luckily, I hit a red traffic light at the bottom so I stopped and rested. A volunteer ran over calling out, “Wot chu doing!” “Red light,” I explained. “Yu go, yu go!” she insisted. So, a look to the right, no cars. A look to the left, no boats. Off I go again.
    A quick shower before the hill, another on the way back, and others when they were offered. The hose holders seemed to enjoy the process as much as I did. Made my shoes a bit sloppy though.
    At the final turn as, I headed for home were half a dozen motor scooter volunteers. “Are those for rent?” I called. “What’s the problem?” One asked. “Big bum, big hill, I answered. “No big bum gets on my bike,” he replied. By then I was past him and too tired to negotiate anyway.
    Back to the traffic lights. They were green this time. So, no confusion. My new friend was on the road calling, “Yu go! Yu go!” Accompanied by sweeping arm movements in case I didn’t understand English. I complied and go-ed. I was rewarded with a double thumbs up. Better than an index finger, I guess.
    A final goodbye to my personal cheer squad. They had moved to the top of the hill to see what was keeping me. Then down to Mooloo and into the finish chute where an audible sigh arose as people realized the end of the race was near. The fat lady had sung. The sweeper had swept and ‘Lochy Last’ had made it home again.
    I didn’t win. I came second. I spent the afternoon relaxing by my phone waiting for a text message to tell me when to collect my medal. No message. No medal. Never mind, maybe next year.
    Now for that chat with my bike mechanic.

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