Tu Vas A Uvas?
Uvas South Bay Triathlon
Morgan Hill, CA
May 15, 2005

When you've proven to yourself in the first race of the season that you are a slower, fatter triathlete than you have ever been in your triathlon career, the next race is a wonderful opportunity for improvement. Especially when it's shorter, flatter, and more local than the first race, and you don't have to camp on a steep and rocky hillside the night before, worrying about Hogzilla and his feral piggy friends rooting up your tent in the middle of the night. So I was looking forward to Uvas with a certain guarded enthusiasm. I knew I was likely to have a better performance on this course and that I wouldn't suffer as much in doing so. Plus Uvas is one of my favorite little races, tucked away in the hills south of San Jose, rolling by a couple of small reservoirs and through some scenic farms and houses.

On the other hand, I wasn't planning to be fast or anything. No miracles had occurred between May 1 at Wildflower and May 14, as I drove through a gray and drizzly morning down towards Morgan Hill. I hadn't even gotten a large amount of training in, or managed to have one of those rare but exciting breakthrough workouts, where all of a sudden something seems easier than it did the week before. Everythng had seemed pretty much just as hard as it had all spring. But I was ready to go, as far as that went.

I was a little worried about the mist dampening the streets of South San Jose. Even though my favorite weather to race in involves overcast skies and temperatures in the low 60s, a wet pavement and narrow racing tires don't necessarily mesh too well. By the time I reached Uvas Road, though, the roads were dry. SUVs, Subaru wagons and minvans lined up outside the field that serves as the parking lot, and time was getting short, so I pulled over on the side of the road and got my race gear together. The road was narrow and racers were jogging and riding up and down it to get warmed up, so it was kind of an adventure actually getting to transition.

One of the fun things about J & A Productiions is that at their races Silicon Valley Tri Club has its own bike racks in transition so we can hang out with our buddies and share our thoughts about the weather, the course, the water temperature, and the likely post-race spread. I was next to Eduard Korat, one of the very fastest people in our club, a guy who qualifies for Ironman Hawaii every year and who flies around the turns at track workouts. He's also incredibly nice and amazingly humble about his great athletic prowess. If I was that fast I'd be unbearable. So I guess it's good I'm not. I was pleased to announce to everyone that I had remembered flip-flops so I could walk across the extremely rough parking lot and down the stony hill to the swim start. My feet were pretty happy, and so was I. When I went in to splash around and warm up, the water was cool but not cold, green but not scummy. The swim at Uvas is nice and straightforward - keep the peninsula on your left, swim around it, get out at the boat ramp. I was also happy that I had managed to get my wetsuit on a little better than at Wildflower, so I had greater freedom of movement in my shoulders as I warmed up.

I wasn't actually sure which wave I was going off with - J & A had added a wave at the last minute for some reason, and the instructions were confusing. I was given a lime green swim cap and I ended up going with the other people who had the same color head. We sploshed off at the sound of the horn, thrashing and kicking and, at least in my case, not seeming to get anywhere very fast. I tried not to worry about how many buoys were ahead of me, just kept focused on the next one and keeping a straight line. As I breathed to my right side, I could see the sun was starting to force its way through the cloud cover. It was very pretty, but I didn't really want to see it. I wanted it cloudy right till the end of the race.

Unless you get kicked in the nose, waver off course, or have to battle enormous swells, there's not that much to write about the normal swim leg of a triathlon. You lift your arms over your head, you reach forward, you roll your body, you pull back, you kick your legs, you breathe to the left or the right, and you repeat more or less endlessly. Eventually, iff all goes well, you see the finish and you start to pull yourself out of your semi-trance and get ready for the wetsuit struggle and the wobbly-legged run up to the bike racks. And so it was at Uvas. A quick glance at the race clock showed I was out of the water in about 32 minutes, not fast at all but a modest improvement over Wildflower. I wrestled my way out of the wetsuit without pulling anything, and eventually I found myself wearing bike shoes and a helmet and starting to pedal down the road.

The first stretch of the bike course is a little rolling but gradually uphill, so I concentrated on spinning the pedals at a steady cadence and not getting too winded. It was weird, a little, being on the bike and not catching up with anyone. The bike has always been the part of a race when I actually feel like I'm racing with people, where I have a chance of catching them and passing them. I know I'm going to be caught again on the run by a lot of people, but at least I have the fun of the chase while it lasts. Even without catching people though, I still like being on the bike in the middle of the hills. Down the steep hill and around the turn off of Uvas Road onto Oak Glen, and up around the other little reservoir, whatever its name is. The sun was starting to come out now, and the morning was gorgeous. I couldn't begrudge it. The city or county or someone had repaved the treacherous and rutted parts of Oak Glen, so the ride was easier on the behind than in years past. I did find a few straggling slow riders and pass them, but I wasn't getting my tri shorts in a twist. Sycamore Hill was coming up and I knew I was going to be going extremely slowly myself when that grade kicked in.

Sycamore Hill is short but nasty, and about 50 yards from the top, I just couldn't crank the pedals around any more. I struggled to unclip and get off on the steeply pitched asphalt. I hate to get off and walk, but there was nothing I could do. Up at the top, I took a swig of Cytomax and got back up on the saddle. The difference between getting down a hill that steep and getting up it is pretty remarkable. I swooped down the road, head tucked low, butt in the air, trying to make the most of this brief respite. It seemed like just a few seconds before I was out on Watsonville Road, back onto Uvas Road, grinding up the last little hills to the transition. There's one really nice spot on that last stretch just covered in scotch broom, and it smells great. I enjoyed that.

I rolled into transition, not in too big of a hurry. I had a slow bike time, and I was getting ready to have a very slow run leg, so I couldn't see the point of shaving seconds in T2. I didn't sit and have a cup of tea or anything, but it wasn't my fastest transition ever, either. I fastened my race number belt and trotted off. At Wildflower, I really hadn't been able to run at all for the first mile or so, my legs were so shot. Here, things were marginally better. I settled into a pattern of two minutes running, one minute walking. Not very inspiring, but still better than my last race. As I got my legs back a little, I moved it up to three minutes jogging, and then four. I was thinking that maybe this would be the race where I finished last, but I didn't care. Stubbornness is endemic to triathletes, even out of shape ones. The sun was a little hotter and I was tossing water over me at the aid stations. A dead cat just before mile 2 and just after 4 (out and back course) provided incentive to go a little faster past that stretch.

I wasn't feeling great on this run, but I wasn't suffering intensely either. The problem with being slow is that the suffering does go on longer, but the upside for me is that I can't really push myself with the kind of intensity I can muster when I'm in better shape. So I just kept trotting and walking and talking myself through the miles, and finally I could see the peninsula and transition around a couple of corners. It seemed really hot on the road, but I don't think it was much over 80 degrees. I was drenched from pouring water over my head. A little while later I could see my car, and I knew I was going to make it. I ran the whole last mile, no walk break, and I was darn proud of myself for doing it. I finished the race in just about three hours, not last, but about 40 minutes slower than my last time at Uvas.

I stuck around for some post race chow (fried noodles and veggies, yum, and beer!) because it was there and it was free and good - not like the Tri-California excuse for a post-race meal - and because I knew there'd be SVTC members getting awards. Eduard, of course, and Kyle, and the inimitable Ken Nash, fastest senior citizen in the west. And because I went to Uvas, and I kept going until I was done, and I wanted to bask for a while.