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fatathlon · 6 years ago

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Race Report: Greater Nashua Sprint Triathlon

My first triathlon of 2019 was a sprint distance race held in southern New Hampshire, called the Greater Nashua Sprint Triathlon. I settled on this race in particular after several months of research, trying to find a race that was both within driving distance and lined up with my training schedule for my 70.3 race. I didn’t know anything about it other than what I found on the website and Facebook page, but it was the 10th annual running of the event, so it seemed likely to be a well-organized race.

Pre-Race

An added bonus to this race was that my wife’s parents and brother live just an hour away from the race location, so we were all able to stay with them and combine it into a family visit. It’s a huge benefit to race day preparations to be in a comfortable location with family before an event, so I’m grateful we were able to have that opportunity. I went to bed at the same time as my kids, and actually managed to sleep through most of the night. I only woke up once, at about 3 AM, and then drifted in and out until about 5, when I got up.

Breakfast was my customary bowl of oatmeal flavored with maple syrup with a coffee. While I had the syrup out, I took the opportunity to fill my gel bottle. I still wasn’t sure if I would even use fuel during the race, because it was so short, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to have it along.

Breakfast

Race Fuel

Nice morning view

I had everything pretty much ready to go the night before, so all I had to do in the morning was load my bike, put my transition bag in the car, and head out. The drive was uneventful. As I got close to Nashua, I started to see more and more cars carrying bikes. It wasn’t long before I saw a fully decked out Quintana Roo on the back of a pickup. Welcome to New Hampshire.

Parking was an absolute nightmare. There was a lot designated for racers, which was the entire area around a local school, but it was already packed to the gills by the time I arrived. I ended up having to park underneath a swing set. I checked the air in my tires at my car, put my transition bag on my bag and rode to the transition area.

Transition was pretty well organized, with everyone having a marked spot on the racks. Once again my bike was too tall to fit very well on the rack. The saddle was too high to easily get it under the bar, and then there wasn’t enough of a hang to keep it on there securely. Not much I could do about it, so I set up my transition stuff and went to get body-marked, check out the transition routes, and wander down to the water.

My transition setup. My rear wheel is basically on the ground.

There were about 15 minutes of announcements before the race, which felt like they took forever. I tried to keep my arms moving, doing some arm circles and such, but mostly just stood around feeling my springs coil. Finally, they started calling waves. Everyone had an assigned wave number, and when your wave was called, you went down to a dock area to check-in and queue up for the start.

Swim

This was my first race wearing a wetsuit. It was also my first race with a wave start. It cheated everyone out of some time, because the timing mat was on the dock and the waves treaded water for a minute or two before actually starting. But at least everyone lost the same amount of time, so it didn’t really matter.

I put some water on the back of my neck just before jumping in, but it felt like a warm bath. I was prepared for a cold shock when stepped off the dock, but it was just balmy. I grabbed the start line rope and floated until the starter gave us the go signal, then I was off.

One of the first waves heading out

Almost immediately, I felt like something was wrong. I wasn’t more than 30 seconds into it and I felt absolutely awful. I thought I might be getting sick. Was I even moving? I couldn’t really tell. My line was way off, too, and I kept veering to the right. I tried to focus on my technique and things got a little better. I decided that whatever I was feeling, it wasn’t getting any worse, so I would just push through it. I had done enough swim training to know that I wouldn’t suddenly drown or anything, especially while wearing a buoyant wetsuit. The worst case was that my arm strength would just give out, and it hadn’t yet. So there was no reason to stop. On I went.

About halfway through the loop, I started catching some people. I have no idea if they were in my wave or the wave before mine, or possibly the wave after mine, having gotten ahead of me at the start. I didn’t try to swim over anyone but I didn’t really seem them coming, either, so some contact was inevitable.

I hadn’t set a goal time for the swim, but from experience I expected something between 10-15 minutes in the back of my mind. When I finally stood up to exit, it felt like it had been twice that, but I figured realistically it was maybe 12 minutes.

I looked at my watch and saw an 8. Suddenly things made a little more sense. I had been going faster — much faster — than I thought. No wonder I felt like my chest was going to explode.

Official Swim Time: 8:49 (.3 mi) – 1:41/100 yd 7/32 in age group; 34/414 overall

T1 sent us up a sandy path through the woods to the grassy area where the bikes were. There were wetsuit strippers waiting for us, which was awesome. I pulled my wetsuit down below my waist, slid into home on the tarp, and my suit was popped off before I even knew what was happening. I thanked the volunteers and headed to my bike.

About to get stripped

I had toyed a bit with leaving my shoes on my bike with rubber bands, but ultimately couldn’t really figure out how to do it so it worked properly, and I was worried about the rubber bands getting caught in my gears, so I decided to just put my shoes on in transition, run the bike out, and clip in. I certainly wasn’t going to try a flying mount, so this was a reasonable option for me. At the last second I grabbed my maple syrup bottle and slid it into my tri suit pocket.

Official T1 time: 3:13 – 91/414 overall

Bike

The bike route was very short, and very flat. I’d only done three previous races before this one, but this was the shortest and flattest by far. I had been doing a lot of mental gymnastics about the bike leg in the days leading up to the race, debating my approach. Overall, I wanted this race to be something of a practice session for my 70.3 — transition logistics, using a wetsuit, etc. I thought about also extending that to pacing, to practice the mental and emotional control required to slow myself down at the start of the bike leg so that I would be able to hold the right pace throughout, and then have enough left over for the run. But as soon as I was clipped in, that decision was made. It was go time.

Because I didn’t have any pacing or power targets, I ended up watching my heart rate most of all while out on the course, followed by my speed. My heart rate was shockingly high compared to the levels I was used to seeing during my training, which is predominantly spent in zone 2. But I knew that wasn’t necessarily a problem. The race was short enough that I could work at or above threshold for the whole thing. They call it a sprint for a reason, after all.

The other fun thing about a sprint is that passing someone on the bike leg is usually permanent. In a longer race, it can often be just the first of two meetings, the second of which being when they come back and smoke you on the run. But in a sprint, they are more likely to run out of road if you go full throttle on the bike. Since it was a wave start, I knew that passing people was not an entirely accurate representation of my place in the field. But it was motivating anyway. So I reeled in as many people as I could, and made sure that nobody passed me. The best part was passing those $6,000 tri bikes on my gravel bike with regular old drop bars.

As it turned out, I was glad to have my maple syrup on board. I took a couple hits, one partway through and one just before T2. It felt helpful, and made me realize that I would probably need more fuel than I had been thinking during my longer race in July.

The bike course covered, I had a clean dismount just at the line, and ran my bike in to the transition area again.

Official Bike Time: 25:45 (9.6 mi) – 22.4/mph 4/32 in age group; 18/414 overall

T2 was my slowest performance on the day, relative to the field. I didn’t deliberately go slow, but I wasn’t rushing, either. I’m pretty particular about how my shoe lace-up feels, and that combined with the socks I use (which are not super easy to get on) probably accounted for my slow time. But I made it out on the run with everything I needed and feeling pretty good, so I wasn’t too worried about blitzing through T2.

Official time: 1:51 – 313/414 overall

Run

I expected to be running fast out of transition, having experienced that phenomenon before. Adrenaline is high and you are excited to just get going, and before you know it you’re running way faster than you expected. I checked my watch after a couple hundred yards and saw I was running close to 7:30 min/mi, which is very fast for me. For reference, I ran all of my sprints last year at around 9:00 min/mi. My first reaction was to feel like I needed to back off, slow down and find a more conservative pace, but then I remembered it was only 3.1 miles. I was able to hold a strong pace through the swim and bike, why not the run? Might as well go for it, and see how long I could hold it before I slowed down. The worst case was that my pace would slow for the back half of the race, but I knew I would finish no matter what. Go time continued.

I focused on my cadence through most of the run, trying to keep the rhythm even and high. That seems to be my key to running fast (such that “fast” is, for me), when I need to. If I think about ‘running fast,’ it’s harder to do, but if I just focus on my cadence, it’s easier for some reason.

The run was also a very flat course, with only a couple slight inclines, when my pace dipped closer to 8:00 min/mi. I was able to hold my cadence pretty well throughout. Two or three people passed me, including a 60+ year old woman and a kid, wearing the race t-shirt. Sigh. But overall I held my pace and I felt strong throughout.

By the time the last half-mile came around, I was starting to feel it, particularly in my hips and my abdominals. I was definitely on the edge, pushing to maintain the pace. There wasn’t much of anything left for a late surge, all I could do was hold what I had through the chute and over the finish line.

Official Run Time: 24:19 (3.1 mi) – 7:50/mi 11/32 in age group; 65/414 overall

Overall Results: Time: 1:03:55 5/32 in age group; 34/219 by gender; 36/414 overall

Post Race & Summary

The race venue had a lot of activities for kids, which was great for when my family arrived. There were at least three bouncy houses, plus a clown making balloon animals, and kid-friendly food. The food was great, and there was tons of it, all of it free as far as I could tell, at least for racers. It wasn’t just bananas and bagels, there was an entire sandwich buffet, flatbread pizza, Italian ice, all kinds of things. The only real negatives for me about the race organization and venue were parking and the lack of a professional race photographer (there were only official volunteers, who took substandard photos and whose coverage was incomplete). Otherwise, it was a well-organized and fun race on a decent course.

As far as my performance goes, I came away a little surprised and with a lot to think about. I had definitely underestimated my potential in the water and on the run. I really didn’t have any idea that I could swim or run that fast over any distance. Almost immediately, I started thinking ahead to July, and trying to sort out what that means for my 70.3. Obviously I won’t be racing at these speeds at that distance. But my personal bar has been raised, there’s no getting around that. Now I have the task of handling that knowledge without it infiltrating my head in a negative way. Expectations for a race are not usually helpful.

I tried to examine whether I could have gone any faster, any harder, improved in any area in order to jump to the 1st-3rd place podium from my 5th place spot. I would have had to be about 6 mins faster to do that. Certainly I was maxed on the swim. I don’t think I was at maximum capacity on the bike, but I was fairly close. The run didn’t have a whole lot of room to give, either. When I look at the actual times between 5th (me) and 3rd, here’s what I find:

PlaceSwimT1BikeT2RunTotal3rd8:202:2525:390:3521:0958:065th (me)8:493:1325:561:5124:191:03:55Difference:0:290:480:171:163:105:49

Clearly the majority of time lost was on the run. That isn’t surprising to me, since I’ve never been a fast runner. But I’m encouraged, because I’m way faster than I used to be. The next biggest deficit was T2, followed relatively closely by T1. The differences on the swim and the bike combined could be easily surmounted by improving just my transitions alone. Or I could have pushed a bit harder on the climbs (such as they were) on the bike and probably wiped out a lot of that time. But most of the improvement work to be done is clearly in my run.

Is this a microcosm of what I can expect at longer distance? It will be interesting to see how the ratios play out there. I’d also be interested in comparing these relative results to my results from last year’s sprints. That is, how much slower — relative to the field — was I in transition vs. the bike leg, or run leg. Maybe that will be a good subject for a future post. You can’t compare races 1:1, but I think you can get a sense of how the relative balance of everything plays out, and what that means for your skill set and fitness level. If nothing else, it’s an interesting diversion.

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jessicaptain · 6 years ago

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Race Anecdotes: Clinics are not just for beginners

You may see big improvements by attending clinics when you’re first starting out racing, but how have you recently refined your skills? When’s the last time you properly stood on your bike and pulled your handlebars with your latissimus dorsi muscles? What was your saddle doing as you stood out of it? When’s the last time you climbed Lookout Mountain and methodically alternated between standing and sitting the whole climb?

As we become more experienced racers and bike riders, we assume clinics are for beginners. Stop. Always be learning.

This past Sunday, May 26th, BRAC held its second Women’s+ Clinic. Coach Alison Powers of ALP Cycles Coaching taught us hill climbing techniques to get us up to the top faster. I decided last minute to attend the clinic even though I already had two volunteers, Stephen and Marcus (pedal RACING team members), to help out. I get caught between burn out from managing the entire BRAC Women’s+ Bike Racing Initiative and feeling like I need to be at all the events to prove my dedication. Like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or, a cyclist who wants more women racing their bikes but needs to focus on her own training goals too.

My training for the day called for four hours of Zone 2. I knew my teammate, Brittney, signed up for the clinic. I asked if she’d like to commute to the clinic. So we did.

We got there early. Sixteen women signed up. I anxiously awaited their presence knowing some would flake. I hoped all sixteen would show. Five interested racers, four Cat 5 racers, and three Cat 4 racers showed. I was the only Cat 3 woman who was there.

This is where I get disappointed. From the survey BRAC conducted, there was an overwhelming ask for more women’s+-only clinics, women’s+ social rides, and mentors. I fought tooth and nail for a budget to provide that to Colorado women racers. There are roughly 500 or so women registered through BRAC. So where the fuck are they?

I also realize that just because it’s available doesn’t mean women will or have to show up. I understand we all have lives outside of bike racing and as amateur bike racers, tooling around in a circle for forty minutes may come second to other priorities. I’m also super grateful that we had anyone show up at all. It could have just been Alison and me twiddling our thumbs.

I think I get disappointed because I’ve spent an extraordinary amount of time and suffered through circular debates about this. I birthed this initiative in to existence. This has become an extension of me. It feels silly to say, in all honesty. I just want it to be successful. I also acknowledge my idea of success is probably unrealistic.

So, what did you miss out on by ditching the Hill Climb Clinic?

Importance of gearing

Just like oatmeal, beds, and gels: there’s a difference between too much and too little of something. Same goes for gearing: too easy or too hard of a gear and you’re likely to go slower. There’s a gear that’ll be just right to move you up the mountain faster.

The same goes for gearing between seated and standing: too easy of a gear when you stand and you’ll be spinning too fast to move. Shifting up a few gears while standing as you pedal helps to maintain cadence and power and push you forward. One of the exercises Alison instructed us to do was to practice pedaling while seated, shifting gears, and pedaling while standing.

Importance of positioning

When seated, typically, you’ll keep your hands on the hoods. When standing, you’ll want to move your body forward a little to allow for the saddle to move back and forth behind your legs. You’ll also want to pull with your upper body as you pedal standing. This will end up working your lats.

We also discussed positioning in a race and where the best lines are on hairpin turns.

We had made it about halfway up after discussing the different techniques of hill climbing. Then we rode the rest of the way to the top to practice on our own. Alison gave us a quick lesson on descending before we called it a day.

Our next clinic is Road Racing led by Inspired Training Center on June 23rd. You can find the details on the BRAC calendar or on our Facebook page.

Always-be-learning mindset

There are two kinds of mindsets: fixed and growth. A person with a fixed mindset believes that they can’t change, that they’re born with the abilities they currently have. Failing, to a fixed mindset type, is proof of their incompetence. Alternatively, someone with a growth mindset believes they can change, whether that’s a skill or personality trait, and they learn through failure.

The people who showed up to the clinic have a growth mindset. They went believing they’d learn a new skill and become a better hill climber. The people who saw the clinic and deliberately chose to do something else because they didn’t think they’d benefit from the clinic have fixed mindsets. They didn’t think they’d learn something.

Carol Dweck, author of Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, had this to say about people who have a growth mindset:

For twenty years, my research has shown that the view you adopt for yourself profoundly affects the way you lead your life. It can determine whether you become the person you want to be and whether you accomplish the things you value. How does this happen? How can a simple belief have the power to transform your psychology and, as a result, your life?

Believing that your qualities are carved in stone — the fixed mindset — creates an urgency to prove yourself over and over. If you have only a certain amount of intelligence, a certain personality, and a certain moral character — well, then you’d better prove that you have a healthy dose of them. It simply wouldn’t do to look or feel deficient in these most basic characteristics.

[…]

I’ve seen so many people with this one consuming goal of proving themselves — in the classroom, in their careers, and in their relationships. Every situation calls for a confirmation of their intelligence, personality, or character. Every situation is evaluated: Will I succeed or fail? Will I look smart or dumb? Will I be accepted or rejected? Will I feel like a winner or a loser? . . .

There’s another mindset in which these traits are not simply a hand you’re dealt and have to live with, always trying to convince yourself and others that you have a royal flush when you’re secretly worried it’s a pair of tens. In this mindset, the hand you’re dealt is just the starting point for development. This growth mindset is based on the belief that your basic qualities are things you can cultivate through your efforts. Although people may differ in every which way — in their initial talents and aptitudes, interests, or temperaments — everyone can change and grow through application and experience.

Do people with this mindset believe that anyone can be anything, that anyone with proper motivation or education can become Einstein or Beethoven? No, but they believe that a person’s true potential is unknown (and unknowable); that it’s impossible to foresee what can be accomplished with years of passion, toil, and training.

Don’t believe yourself when you blurt out loud, “I’m not a climber.” Change the way you talk to yourself. Having a fixed mindset, believing you’re too good for a clinic, is easy. Admitting you have weaknesses you can work on and taking steps to improve deficiencies is badass.

Improve your climbing

Over-Under Intervals

Riding below and above your FTP forces your body to handle changes in power output, mimicking race scenarios on long climbs.

Example Workout:

Warm-Up: 15-20 minutes

3x12 OU (2U, 1O) [2 mins under @ 86-90% FTP; 1 min over @ 102-105%+ FTP] x 4 = 12 minutes

6 mins Rest between intervals

Cool down: 15 minutes

Sweet Spot Training

Riding right below your FTP helps gradually increase it by challenging your body to maintain higher output for longer durations.

Example Workout:

Warm-Up: 15-20 minutes

3x20 mins @ 84-95% of FTP

10 sec. Sprint every 4 mins.

15 mins Recovery between intervals

Cool down: 15 minutes

Riding at your FTP

I see a lot of strong riders doing FTP intervals. This means riding at your FTP for a certain duration with rest in between. This also helps increase your FTP over time.

Example Workout:

Warm-Up: 15-20 minutes

3x15 @ FTP

5-10 minutes Recovery between intervals

Cool down: 15 minutes

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anxietyfuckingsucks-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Mod Sun

mod is a short form of modern and sun is always bright and brilliant but deady if too close

what does this say about his being and who he aspires to be? whatever and whoever this is, is positive and filled with glowing intentions

modern sun. a being who is young and in the current moment..lets face it were always young and time is nonexistent to me--still debating it though bc is anything ever truly nonexistent? anyway, i see an old soul and old friend through this. i am a child of everything. i find myself in everyone and find everyone in myself.

although i lean towards helping people in negative situations, my favorite are those who conquer and turn hardships into productivity. even people who have not had the same hardships as myself, or maybe less in general, and always remain so upbeat BLOW me out of the water. I aspire to be like them in that sense. through this ive made friends of all kinds.. one was a boy in high school who i became rather close with. I was an “outcast” and he played all sports possible which he somehow always succeeded in. He was widely known and was known usually for coming across as an asshole, and oh man, sometimes, he really was. We clashed heads and opinions lots, but our good times outweighed any disagreement by a landslide.

i remember the first time i saw him. i had my usual resting bitch face on and he looked at me, and i glared at him. he smiled and laughed and said “cheer up, buttercup!” and i responded with “dont tell me what to do”

he looked at me a little weird but throughout time we had classes together and passed each other in the hallways. he always took the time to say hello in an excited and energetic manner.

it threw me off, but i was curious. i sat with him one day in class and complimented something that i cannot remember. friendship was not immediate, but hugs started becoming a once in a while thing, and by the time i hit senior year, they were daily.

senior year gym class we had all year together. one day he forgot his clothes and i was like MAAAN WHAT THE FUCK WHO AM I GONNA TALK TO? um the answer was other people because i enjoyed everyone but he was my fave along with a girl from another class of mine

he didn’t react right away and shrugged and walked away. this was SO not like him so i gave him space, told him i was here when he was ready, and would observe him silently. being a wallflower is beautiful.

the next day we saw each other in gym and i offered a hug. i told him that one of the things i appreciated most about him was his energy and that although i understood he couldnt always have it, i missed it. he smiled and sighed and we sat down on a bench and was like “can i talk to you?” my face must have lit up and i was like “yes but quick run into the locker room and change back into normal clothes before the doors lock.” he was like uh, okay, but why? that kills your grade and youre a fucking bitch about getting grades

i laughed so hard and was like “because silly, if were gonna talk were gonna do it right. ill sacrifice my grade for you to feel like someone has their full attention on you.”

we both bolted and came back out. it was the first time we had more than 30 mins max to talk and have a full convo. through that convo, i realized he didnt have as much as i had preconceived him to. i realized that he hurt, his life wasn’t perfect. although he was talented he felt lonely and felt as if no one understood him. we spent our time sitting side by side outside and looking around, and planned a day together at our school’s ropes course.

a few weeks later he “forgot” his clothes and asked me to “forget” mine. we went up to the ropes course that day with the class, but sat aside to talk. we laughed so hard we were in tears, everyone was looking at us oddly but we had not a care in the world.

later on we would revist that course together and jumped around and moved through it. i was not as agile as he, but i admired how he could do these things almost effortlessly...even though the course creaked and squeaked and felt like it could be a death trap. i also admired how he laughed at my failure and made rude jokes but would immediately come over to pick me up off the ground and then say “watch me” ..through trial and error i became slightly better and enjoyed that i was doing it more. i was less embarassed, more willing to do it without hesitation.

through this we bonded mentally and physically. i trusted him more. id let him pick me up during hugs which i NEVER did. we gave each other piggy back rides randomly because we felt like it. the image is funny..a “scene” kid with a face that was mainly stone and intimidating at first...on the back of a jock. i was always smiling in some way. whether he was running to give me a scare and i was screaming at him, or whether we did it with leisure, we were always smiling. sometimes hed carry me or my books while telling me about his life and deciding on whether or not he just wanted me to listen or offer advice as well.

we were always a funny image. two seemingly opposites who always found a way to attract. he started borrowing things from me, band shirts, brass knuckle necklaces. he told me how pretty i looked in more feminine clothes. we both loved who were were at heart, but enjoyed seeing the other one take on something more similar to the other person, even if it wasnt comfortable at first.

we had an affectionate friendship, but at the same time, always kept our distances. we had interests in each other that allowed us to be fascinated with each other together and apart. we never went beyond a hug for three years i believe. i went my way, he went his. but if we came back in sight, we acknowledged each other. we talked outside of school here and there, but rarely ever hung out.

through a gym conversation with him, he told me that sometimes he would go home and look up words in the dictionary to try to learn them so that he could come in to school and impress me. he told me that he felt intimidated by the flow of my words even though they always had a way to do whatever i wanted them to. he said i made him feel dumb. WHYYY the fuuuuck would he feel like this? just because i was a decent student didn’t mean that I couldnt enjoy someone who didn’t excell as much in something as i did. I brought my hands over my face and said through them something along the lines of “duuuude what the FUCK” and i removed my hands and said “i am so sorry, that is never my intention. you did not have to do that bc i love you for who you are and who you truly aspire to be”

that was the first time i said i loved him where i could feel it. worlds collided and somehow meshed together. i realized that even intelligence and stupidity could find common grounds. and through that, he has taught me much. i am forever grateful for him and will carry him in life with me.

of course he picked up on “i love you” and my immediate face of realization and shock afterwards. he smiled and questioned it as if he needed the extra reassurance. i made a face and he said “cheer up buttercup” i smiled, he hugged me, and we split our ways to enjoy our other friends in the class.

although we both thought we were attractive, we did not go beyond that for three years. sometimes hed smack my ass but id turn right around and hit him back. cant tell you how many times in sports he would do something a little harder than i could handle. sometimes things would fly at me and hit me and hurt so bad that id turn around and immediately be red. this happened so often that I would drop whatever i was doing and walk at him and jump at him. id bring him to the ground sometimes. although i never seriously hurt this person physically, I learned how to approach him in a way that he understood not to fuck with me. and i knew that his intentions were never bad. the tennis balls that hit me so hard it left bruises, to the little things hed throw at me to get my attention, we grew. i took a class with him and another boy one time. this other boy spiked a volleyball to the head so hard that it knocked my friend out. i was red in the face immediately but held back my anger because my mothering instincts kicked in full swing. i helped him up, took him to the nurse, and talked to him after he had time to rest. a few days later, that same boy did the same thing to me. but it was different this time. it hit my face so hard (i was turned to the side and not paying attention, so my b i guess) that the whole class turned to look. i was extremely anxious with the attention on me. plus it looked like i was crying but really i was just trying to rub the sting off my face lol. but the boy did something he didnt do to my friend the other day, he laughed. my friend was immediately like man WHAT the fuck come on. he came to my side but by that time it was too late. the girl who was mainly quiet and to herself...5′2 walked up to one of the tallest and well known guys of our graduating class...and she let loose. I had a method in my anger, and when he laughed it off, i walked away. my words were out. what was said was over and done. what he took of it was on him and i knew i did what i could. much to my surprise that night the boy messaged me over facebook and apologized to me. he said he reflected on what i said. the next day in gym i approached him calmly with a small smile and told him that i appreaciated his words and that as long as he was not rude, we had no beef between us. he dated people i knew. i dated people he knew. we dated strangers to one or both of us. but we were always super protective over each other. what hurt him, hurt me. what hurt me, hurt him.

i will never forget our first kiss and how incredibly awkward it was for both of us. it was worth the shot, but we felt nothing that lit a romantic fire. we trialed it twice, but acknowledged it didn’t come naturally to us. and that was okay. if it was meant to be, it would be.

i will never forget graduation. i dressed up and looked very feminine. but at the same time, i was in all black and carried my unique style with me as well. we bumped into each other and both looked up and down. i realized how manly he looked and how proud i was of him and how excited i was to hear of his future trials, tribulations, and triumphs. we wished each other well on our way, and that was the last time i saw him until a year later.

a year after graduation we got into a convo. we talked about everything and planned a visit although he moved further away. one night he came to me crying and told me that he missed me so much and felt so lost again. told me that he missed high school because the highlight of his day was always seeing me. i could get him like no other no matter what without a single pass of judgement. that i was the only person he could think of that could do that.

although this is quite a compliment, i took it humbly. he was hysterical, it was late and my car wasn’t great. i asked for his address and told him to expect me within an hour and a half. i told my parents i was going to a girlfriend’s house and left.

When i pulled up to his place he was sitting in the rain on a rail outside. as soon as he saw my headlights he walked over and pulled me out of the car and hugged me and swallowed hard and deep and sighed. of course, we let go and he snapped at me BITCH YOUVE BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG...now lemme help you park your car its tricky here.

We went inside, he gave me a tour. We talked with his mom and brother and then went out back to sit on the porch. We caught up little by little, but talked mainly about what bothered us most. We smoked a little weed, made some food, went inside, i helped him clean, i watched him play videogames bc hes a huge nerd but its cute when someone is passionate about something that does no harm, so whatever. but as i started drifting off, he told me that i could take the bed and that he wasn’t sleeping for quite some time. the last thing i remember before falling asleep was warm lips on my forehead and the feel of a fan on me since he had no ac and the humidity and heat made us uncomfortable.

i woke up that morning to make the drive home so i wouldnt be home too late. when i opened my eyes i realized he was passing out next to me and had put up a pillow wall between us and grabbed extra blankets so we could each have our own just in case. he looked over and i had a look on my face that he knew well. he chuckled and said “the truth? i wanted to be close to you without weirding you out or making you uncomfortable. i kept an eye on you while you slept. sometimes you shivered, so i grabbed blankets. sometimes you made a troubled face so id put my hand back and reach for your arm...ALSO WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU GET AN ARM TATT?!”

I got up and told him to get comfortable but told him we could talk later, but that I was going to stay with him until he fell asleep. I changed my clothes, went to the bathroom, but always peeked back in. it wasn’t long before he was asleep. i wish i would have said something like “see you later, friend” instead of “bye”

he sleepily told me to text him when i got home so he knew i was safe. and like that, he was out.

we did talk later. but that was the last time that we had a hangout without troubles or worries...with our phones aside, where we were more free and less shackled. its been months. i miss my friend, but i will carry him with me forever. i trust in the fact that what will be, will be. i can miss him but acknowledge now is not the moment to be close. so i often follow thoughts such as “i miss my friend” with thoughts that are confident and true..such as “but he is strong and we have a bond that is unlike any other, we will come around” i say we because relationships are group efforts as much as your own. i believe that everything should aim to be 50/50. we will come around. we both have things in our life that made this moment less possible currently. but we will grow. we will learn. and one day, we will reconnect again in some way, shape, or form.

it was while listening to a mod sun playlist where i realized i could relate a song to several situations, and several situations to EVERY song. thank you my dear!:)

howlin at the moon thoughts

did it again last night, turned into an animal, wolf howl

it is my belief that animals and humans are much more connected than we currently understand as populations in whole

the wolf howl interested me because my spirit animal is a wolf and i have always found myself having qualities of my wolf, but also qualities about myself. A wolf represented me, but wasnt me?

animalistic behavior

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rancidtomatoes · 5 years ago

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Race Report: Greater Nashua Sprint Triathlon

Pre-Race

Breakfast

Race Fuel

Nice morning view

My transition setup. My rear wheel is basically on the ground.

Swim

One of the first waves heading out

I looked at my watch and saw an 8. Suddenly things made a little more sense. I had been going faster — much faster — than I thought. No wonder I felt like my chest was going to explode.

Official Swim Time: 8:49 (.3 mi) – 1:41/100 yd 7/32 in age group; 34/414 overall

About to get stripped

Official T1 time: 3:13 – 91/414 overall

Bike

The bike course covered, I had a clean dismount just at the line, and ran my bike in to the transition area again.

Official Bike Time: 25:45 (9.6 mi) – 22.4/mph 4/32 in age group; 18/414 overall

Official time: 1:51 – 313/414 overall

Run

Official Run Time: 24:19 (3.1 mi) – 7:50/mi 11/32 in age group; 65/414 overall

Overall Results: Time: 1:03:55 5/32 in age group; 34/219 by gender; 36/414 overall

Post Race & Summary

PlaceSwimT1BikeT2RunTotal3rd8:202:2525:390:3521:0958:065th (me)8:493:1325:561:5124:191:03:55Difference:0:290:480:171:163:105:49

from WordPress http://www.stevemaas.com/race-report-greater-nashua-sprint-triathlon/

#Blog #General #Racing #greater nashua sprint triathlon #race #race analysis #race report #sprint tri

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andranikolayi · 8 years ago

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A CAT scan of the Contemporary Subconscious

for The Attic Magazine

Potentially Everything

In recent years it seems that festivals have become the dominant musical events. While it would be rather pointless to add to the debate about the extraordinary surge in festivals, traveling to more and more events and seeing the similarities in tone and programming, one cannot help but wonder – what makes a festival special?

Rewire is a discreet but dense affair in the experimental/dance music hybrid in The Hague, not a very obvious choice when it comes to the Netherlands. The picture-perfect surroundings and walking-friendly size of the city made for a very pleasant festival destination.

While Rewire could be compared to the Unsound/CTM family, it is not an overtly music and contemporary arts festival, nor is part of the SHAPE network, carving a more distinct path. Despite not having an overall theme, subjects such as activism, feminism, nostalgia and emotion in music ran like a red thread through the programming. Adam Harper’s excellent essay The Music of the Body, published in the festival booklet was a very helpful starting point in this respect.

Rewire is certainly a place for discovery: featuring 45 min live sets and having the venues at about 5-10 minutes walking distance from one another with the schedule slightly overlapping, one could potentially experience a significant dose of every act.

This system worked pretty well between the Paard and Prins 27 venues across the street from each other, but going any further one felt the need for a bike, as AGF confessed to literally “running like a child” after her talk, in a failed attempt to catch Pharmakon’s set.

Regardless of those glitches, the three days were perhaps my most action-packed musical vacation.

Tulip Fields, Feminism and Improv

After spending a couple of days in Amsterdam, I took a rideshare to Den Haag, rushing through the flat fields populated with the occasional cattle and monochrome strips of tulips. Armed with my press bracelet, the city was starting to morph into the magical festival bubble as I ran into my friend Max and the rest of the Horse Lords on my way to the Korzo Theater.

Missing the Forest Swords talk right on the nose, I spent some time in the festival-dedicated-area of the lobby and putting together my plan for the evening.

As the doors finally opened, I was really happy to see my long lost festival sister Amy, a happy coincidence creating a shift in my usual festival narratives, resulting in a more gynocentric experience. Together with her colleague Holly, our new female-journalist-power-group was born. It was the perfect setting for exchanging impressions and making those though choices between conflicting acts.

Our journey began in Paard II, the smaller room of the venue, with a dose of saccharine syncopated beats by Jessy Lanza. I fell in love with her childlike, pitch-perfect crooning when first hearing The Galleria, in collaboration with NYC producer Morgan Geist. Her solo work, while less club friendly, is infused by the same pop sensitivity coupled with heart-on-sleeve emotion and offbeat naïveté. On stage she was a pure sugar rush, enveloping the entire space in her sweetness. Struggling to get closer for some shots, I had a joyous run-in with activist and female:pressure ambassador AGF, adding another piece to the sisterly puzzle.

Across the street in the dark, cozy stage of Prins 27, the New York trio Zs had just begun their set. A fluttering guitar intro was filling out the space, just as a slowed down tribal drumming started, juxtaposed with doomy saxophone howls and computer glitches by a special first-time guest performer, evolving into a delirious cacophony, seeping in and out of chaos.

Coming back later to the venue for Horse Lords, I arrived in the middle of an all-enveloping, hypnotic, sinuous saxophone solo, emphasized by Max Eilbacher’s signature abstract electronics. Their second piece started off with quiet guitar finger picking, as the rest of the band was slowly joining in, soon turning into a full-on percussive explosion, with saxophonist Andrew Bernstein joining Sam Haberman on drums and Max picking up the bass. It was a nice change of pace to see them play with the dynamic and explore more meditative moments framing their more rhythmical passages.

Trances

Back at the Paard, the main hall was packed, resonating with the shoegaze chords of the Slowdive reunion, which transported me straight back to high school.

At the smaller stage, the crowd was anxiously trying to find a spot for the Forest Swords performance. The place was filled to the brim, with a line forming at the entrance. Luckily I had found a comfortable refuge by the staircase, with a great view of the performers in front of a large projection of a black and white photograph featuring a group of horsemen, bare-chested, riding into the sea. His majestic, dark yet danceable elegies and full-bodied beats were making the space almost claustrophobic, rending the room upstairs into a giant resonating box, with overwhelming bass, climaxing with the familiar refrain of Dagger Paths’ Miarches. After first seeing him in Paris back in 2014 and more recently on the big stage at Unsound, it was refreshing to experience this more intimate, focused performance.

Popping back into Paard I, Blanck Mass, the solo project of Fuck Buttons’ founder Benjamin Jonathan Powers, took us on a journey to the glitchier side of trance with stroboscopic, organic visuals bordering the grotesque. It felt like being transported into a scene from Enter the Void.

This brief excursion was the perfect palate cleanser before GAIKA, although one might argue that nothing could really prepare you for his confrontational, full-on performance. Once he was on stage, the real party started – there were young girls in the front row weaving their hands in pseudo-oriental fashion, bodies swaying to the infectious beats. Behind the contorted figure of the performer, armed with the microphone, a large, Viking-looking metalhead was assuring the backing vocals, together with a DJ. It was a powerful, raw display of emotion coupled with an uncontrollable desire for dancing.

Norwegian duo N.M.O provided the healthy dose of analogue techno workout from the middle of the crowd, crystallizing in the collective catharsis we’ve all been waiting for, complete with sweaty drumming and a Jérôme Bel-esque performance moment when the guy in the Sudden Infant shirt doing 20 air pushups as the sample instructed.

Arca’s DJ set, coupled with Jesse Kanda’s visuals, was one of the most fascinating instances of crowd work I have ever witnessed. He had the roomful of people in the immense space of Paard II fully in his power, toying with our emotions from pumping techno to Destiny’s Child and even a traditional Urdu song, while baby owls, fish guts and African puppies were staring back from the screen. As if he wanted to make us dance, then make us feel guilty for dancing, in a highly nuanced realm between abandon and discomfort. I would have loved to experience the more performative, outlandish costumes side Arca is famed for, but the overall effect was still utterly poignant.

Disturbance

Saturday started with a morning visit to the AGF/Kubra Khademi rehearsal; the meeting between the two artists happened a couple of years back online, after Antye read the story about the Afghan artist’s brave performance against female harassment in Kabul, which lead to her arrest and current exile. After meeting several times, over the years, the two artists developed ZANSUSPENSION, premiered at the festival.

The show was a highly moving interdisciplinary moment, featuring Kubra descending into the space in a body bag over AGF’s organic textures. Displaying strength and vulnerability, their collaboration seemed like the most natural thing in the world for both performers.

Skipping on the ensuing talk, I rushed to the Grote Kerk for Jayce Clayton aka dj/Rupture’s tribute to the late African American gay composer Julius Eastman. His minimalist piano pieces were resonating in the gorgeous space, the acoustics emphasizing the otherworldly nature of the score. It was a sublime, transportive moment. Jayce framed his tribute with a tongue-in-cheek self referential piece, a humorous and clever commentary on the role of the performer.

Sonic Sisterhood

Rushing back to Paard II, I was faced with a thick crowd blocking the entrance; I could hear Pharmakon’s world-shattering drones from the hallway. Entering the womb-like space covered in red light, I could finally hear her thanatic, visceral screams. Hers was a possessed, consuming performance, oscillating between electronics and her rolling on the floor with punk audacity, before surrendering to pure anarchy and descending into the confused but enthusiastic crowd. It was a good choice of programming to have Wolf Eyes play right before and set the tone.

Later on, I spotted her at Prins 27, looking very un-demonic with her blonde tresses and biker jacket. We were all waiting for Moor Mother’s set. Antye and Kubra joined us in the front row.

Behind a computer screen and two microphones, Moor Mother started off with a series of texts about black identity on an ambient background, with interjects on a toy theremin. About ten minutes in, things went 180 and I witnessed the most punk rock performance of the festival – she put on a fat grime beat, grabbed a microphone and started pacing and staring down the crowd, while rapping about protests and slavery, before jumping into the crowd for “Deadbeat Protester”.

It was an intense marriage of politics and club culture that would have made DJ Sprinkles proud.

Although the much anticipated club night was about to start in Paard II, it was SØS Gunver Ryberg’s dark blend of masterful analogue techno back at Prins 27 that helped ease out the crowd from noise into club mode.

Booking a series of headlining DJs in the small space of Paard II after all the other performances ended was a miscalculation on the part of the organizers, especially when selling extra tickets especially for the night, leading in general chaos and a frustrating amount of queuing.

Once again, it was the ladies who ruled this portion of the night as well, Aurora Halal’s live maze of kick drums and meandering beats leading the crowd into a beautifully orchestrated collective delirium.

The Swedes of SHXCXHCXSH went full darkness, but Helena Hauff’s gorgeous mix of Chicago, Detroit anthems and a hint of acid offered the perfect finale for this emotionally charged evening.

Although Croatian Armor, dressed in neon reflective active wear, delivered an eerie, subtle emo ambient set from behind a live palm tree and Swans had a kaleidoscopic, rich set, it was the ladies who shone through day two.

Sun Through Stained Glass

Sunday, as music festivals’ dynamics work, was the day of mustering all your strength to power through the rest of the event, moving in a dream-like state of bliss coupled with physical and emotional exhaustion.

I must have turned off three alarms before crawling out of my waterbed in a suburban villa framed by a large empty field with three wind mills and a goat farm (as bucolic as this may sound, it also meant I was staying real far), before making it back to the city.

Wandering between the various venues, I was too antsy to really settle on anything; however, back at the Lutheran Church, Dutch veteran collective The Chi Factory offered exactly what I’ve been looking for – a spot-on New Age ambient trip, complete with nature visuals and a floor full of beanbags. I took a seat among the rest of the audience dozing off while the last of the afternoon’s sunlight was creeping through the stained glass windows.

After his relaxing detour that made my inner hippie glow with joy, I stopped by The Grey Space to check out the Bertus Gerssen photo exhibition, after learning that many of the shots were taken in the infamous Villa K, a musician’s squat in the rich coastal Scheveningen district, which also happened to be my home for the evening. Instead, in front of the building, a crowd of about 40 people, carefully aligned, were standing still and looking straight ahead, wearing white scarves, while a text about guerilla warfare was blasting from the speaker, all to the confusion of both festival goers and passer-by. It was a performance orchestrated by the Das Ensemble Ohne Eigenschaften.

The highlight of the evening and personal festival discovery came from the British duo These Hidden Hands, whose deep, sleepy drones slowly built over more fleshed out beats, then burst into melody in a moment veering on the sublime.

Back in Paris, a friend of mine commented that now “Jeff Mills comes to Europe to do his artsy projects”; to be honest, I’m usually skeptical of these live electronics and classical instrument collaborations, even if it’s between Jeff Mills and Tony Allen – it usually can be amazing or notoriously bad. Despite the two musicians being true masters, technical virtuosos in each of their field, this second meeting of the minds on stage was everything I feared it would be – a major let down. With the exception of perhaps 5 minutes when Jeff’s beats were erring on the more melodic side, nicely filling out the space alongside Tony’s drumming. The rest of the set was rather tinny and flat.

This result could be pinned on the limited rehearsal time due to budget issues. Then again one must argue about the catch 22 of bringing the main headliner to a festival in order to sell tickets yet not facilitate said performer to be at their best and debate the relevance of booking such potentially problematic acts in the first place.

The North Sea

The next day, with my feet in the sand, I was pondering over the intense three days. Looking back at the program, it seemed like the festival managed to touch on some major issues in contemporary society, while addressing the audience’s fears and desires on a more subconscious level. There was talk about activism and political engagement, a lingering penchant for ‘90s’ nostalgia and a proclivity for the darker sounds of the electronic spectrum, those that seem to capture the looming global tragedy, as if they had compiled a collective CT-scan that revealed our late night thoughts.

Its diverse, seemingly erratic choice of artists was actually making sense; I was very pleased with the way they addressed the burning topic of 2016 – women in electronic music. Instead of making a point out of booking female performers, they were seamlessly integrated into the lineup, offering a glimpse into a much needed new reality in which female musicians and DJs are simply referred to as musicians and DJs. As Jo Kali argued in her essay from the festival booklet, “feminism demands a radical cognitive adjustment, not just balancing numbers.”[1]

Enveloped by the calming sound of the North Sea, I could not help but think back at all the exchanges and support I received from fellow feminists during the festival, be it sharing experiences of odd sleeping arrangements with male hosts on tour, or the casual inappropriate touching by random men from the industry or simply Antye and Amy buying my broke ass a drink. Being surrounded by all these wonderful ladies was certainly a privilege.

Although the festival took place the same time as the Rush Hour Weekender, which catered to my usual musical obsessions, I’m happy to have had this rather challenging festival experience.

I believe Rewire has found a tremendous formula for luring club people into the more underground realms of the electronic music spectrum. And, if nothing else, telling your friends you’re a 15 minute bike ride from the beach is always a good argument.

[1] Jo Kali, p.42 There is no “single” woman, Rewire 2017 booklet

Rewire festival took place March 29th-April 2nd 2017 in The Hague

analogue photos by the author @feralnoise

#rwr17 #rewire #rewire festival #agf #kubra khademi #jessy lanza #helena hauff #aurora halal #reviews #festivals #the attic mag

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