Last weekend, I had another new experience in the world of triathlon. It was at the Peterborough Half Ironman: I wrapped two things that I had done before together and added a third to make a final product.
More specifically, I have guided visually impaired athletes in running and in cycling (on a tandem) to a certain degree of success. This past weekend, I added swimming to that list and came out with a full triathlon.
Except for the fact the guy I was guiding is a better swimmer than I am, and I felt bad for holding him up, it went very well. Yes, he had to slow up for me in the swim, but once on the tandem, we were inseparable until the run, and then it was every man for himself—he was good on the downhills, I was good on the uphills and cresting. We both wanted water more often than it was available. It was quite a symbiotic relationship.
I was fortunate to guide Aaron Scheidies from the US. Aaron is the current World Champion and record holder at both the 70.3 and Olympic Distance triathlons (4:09 and 1:57). On the right day, he could be my equal or better than me, so as far as I was concerned, the race was not only between us and them full sighted folks, it was simply between us and that would drive us to an even faster time for the day. In the days before our first meeting, I worked hard at getting a hate on for him. That lasted until we met: he’s a super nice guy with only good things to say about everything, and he’s talented and benevolent. He was hard to not like, but I tried anyway, in total futility. Eventually, I gave in and admitted to myself that I really did like him.
We were borrowing a tandem from Won with One, the Canada wide triathlon team for visually impaired athletes. We had a choice of several bikes. We took bike 1 out for a ride in the morning then went for a short run to test out that aspect of the race. We agreed that a different bike would be better, so later that day, we swapped out some parts on bike 2 and got it quite close—getting a bike to fit both a pilot with short legs and stoker with long legs perfectly is not very easy. My saddle was still about 1cm too high and could not go lower. I’d have to live with it.
After 10k on the better bike, we felt reasonably confident we could ride hard and not cripple ourselves. We would leave the swim until race day. Aaron said it was easy, and I trusted him.
Race morning, we met up at the hotel then rode over to the race start, got set up, body marked and wetsuited up. We wrapped the tether around our waists then went for a test swim—he swimming to my right and breathing to his left looking directly at me. The tether was long enough that it dragged 50cm behind us and out of the way of our hands and feet. If it ever became taught, it meant someone was headed in the wrong direction.
Aaron’s goggles were leaking, so with 6min to the start, we ran from the beach to the Dornellas tent and bought on credit a pair of Sable goggles. He tried them on and said they’d be good. We ran back to the beach, swam 20 sec and discussed things.
And then we realized were not in the start area and had to boogie over to the line, arriving with just 5sec to spare.
Off we went, leading the para-triathlete wave of 5 teams and the rest of the race field that was to leave 5min later. The swim was amazingly smooth with no one in the way, and very calm water. Aaron swam a perfectly straight line, or I did and he held his distance to my right perfectly. At the end of the first lap, we stood, ran out of the water and across the beach then dove back in. While running along the beach, he says to me “do you have another gear for the second lap?” I replied quite emphatically “No!!”
Our second lap was equally smooth and we did indeed catch a few of the stragglers from the main wave. We stayed clear and never had a problem with any of them getting between us.
We touched shore, ran to the t-zone and had a remarkably fast transition—I took care of myself, stood up and he was already waiting for me.
We ran out, mounted our bike and were gone. I could feel the strength and power coming from the back of the bike and feared it was too hard, too soon, but also figured he knew what he was doing. We hammered away on the brutally hilly ride behind the lead vehicle to the turn around, checking our split and thinking to myself—that’s too fast, but the damage was done. I also noted the time so we could see how far back the next riders would be. We rode, and rode and rode until at 3:15 had passed, the first solo rider went by. I knew they had outswum us by about 4min because they were in the t-zone when we were leaving (my fault for being the anchor on the team) and we had a 5min head start on them. At this point in the ride, then, we were 6:30 up the road with an actual 1:30 lead on them, so we had really put some time on them.
The return trip was hard—nowhere near as much fun as the ride out—it was hot, hot and windy, windy. I think I mentioned the brutally hilly part, right? It did not get any better.
One thing we did not practice the day before was the bottle exchange but when we mercifully came up on the aid station, I slowed to about 15kph and we were both able to snag a much needed bottle of agua. Those of you that know me also know I do not go through two bottles of fluid very often. I was through both mine at 60k into this ride. Can I say it was hot again?
We rode onward, trying to take advantage of the downhills and flat sections, since we were losing much more time on the uphills than we did on the way out.
All along the route, there was lots of cheering and great sportsmanship. It was appreciated and our thanks to everyone who yelled. Finally, we finished the ride, went through transition, again with Aaron beating me, and off we went on the run. Someone has to be the slowpoke (and put the bike away).
The first 4k is a bit convoluted on grass, trail, pathway and bi-directional traffic. Fortunately, being the race leaders, we had a lead mountain biker to clear the way. He did a great job, and the red shirt he was wearing was visible to Aaron, as long as we kept him within 15m. So we did.
I mentioned Aaron swims perfectly straight. He also runs that way. It was actually very easy to be ticking off 4:30/km on broken and awkward terrain since I really only had to worry about roots and low hanging branches, of which there were not many.
At the 2k turnaround we were able to get a time check on the people chasing us. We saw we had over 8min to second, and 12 to third place. If we held it together, we could be first across the line. That was our new goal. And more modestly, not to blow up and walk.
Once through the first 4k, we hit the road and were able to get into a good rhythm, though this part of the run course in Peterborough has endless hills and zero shade to offer some respite. This particular section doubles as the first and last 5k of the bike ride, so we had lots of people still coming in on the bike cheering us on. That was motivating. At one point, someone yelled at me “don’t you ever get tired of being at the front of a race??” (hint: the short answer is “no.” )
We gradually slowed our pace due to the heat, but Aaron was a real competitor and kept trying to push through it. I am not sure I was very motivating, but I was his constant companion and was not going to let him slow down too much until the aid stations. I half stepped him as my way of encouragement. We both pushed on over the hills and under the heat to the turnaround at 12.5k. I checked our time to get a split on the chase pack, but did not need it—Glenn Flint was in sight, less than 2:30 behind. I raced head to head against Glenn in 1999 until 5k into the run when I finally dropped him, only to be passed by Jeff Beech at 15k, but that’s for another race report. The next runner chasing looked like he was flying. He was definitely gaining on Glenn.
Aaron and I soldiered on trying to delay the inevitable pass, and we made it to 15k before it happened, but it was not Glenn. It was eventual winner Andrew Imrie. Within seconds and minutes, he was out of our sight and headed for home. Not long after that, Glenn’s footsteps could be heard close behind, but not gaining very quickly. He sat behind us for a little while to regain some composure, and then went by. There was no answer in our legs to his pass, just enough energy to keep going. Glenn did not get away by much, and maybe I could have pushed Aaron harder, but with 4k to go, I thought it more wise to hold steady than to risk blowing everything.
We ran on the edge of comfortably until 20k where Aaron decided then was the time to wind things up for the big finish. Unfortunately, though physically able, my mind was not in the mood. I just wanted to maintain. Nevertheless, it was his race, so off we went. It actually felt better to run faster and stretch things out. We waved at the crowd, zigged and zagged our way to the finish line to a great deal of applause. We were 3rd across the line and ended up with the 4th fastest time of the day at 4:27.
Aaron and I hugged, shook hands and congratulated each other on a fine job. Jan Ditchfield from Won with One was glowing with pride at our success. She had worked very hard to coordinate 13 teams racing in the Peterborough half Ironman and sprint triathlons and all the teams were doing well, with Aaron really adding some street cred.
For me, this was a great experience and a real eye opener to the quality of athlete that’s out there. Aaron is a long way in front of the next guy, who happens to be Ryan van Praet from Canada (and formerly Ottawa) but his hope is to have more competition pushing him, not to dominate the way he does. To me, that’s a real competitor—he lives for the battle on race day and is friends before and after. That’s the way it should be.
Congratulations to all the teams who participated in Peterborough last weekend. You all performed very well and inspired a lot of people to reach for new goals.
Hopefully, there will be more opportunities for Aaron and the other visually impaired athletes to strut their stuff in the future.
Thanks to the Subaru Triathlon Series, Won with One, C Different (US counterpart to Won with One) and OAT for making this happen.
Rick
