Checking in from SC

I made the 20+ hour drive down to South Carolina, to spend Thanksgiving with my family of rearing – my father, mother, sister, and my sister’s husband. My sister lives in the piedmont region of the state, which despite being left tattered after the mill closings, is actually pretty nice. The summers are brutal, but right now, it’s 70 and sunny – most of the leaves are even still on the trees.

The training is great here too. There’s a YMCA pool five minutes from her door, and nice paved roads extend in every direction. It’s relatively flat (but not boring), home to nice weather (at least from now until April), and of course, has some great BBQ-recovery food. I’d love to come back here sometime for a spring training camp.

Here are some pictures from my trip:

My mother napping in the Hammock:

My father and Sister:

My Sister cooking:


Out on my new running route:

Chris' Clearwater Race Report

In Putney, VT, I live about 50 feet from another triathlete, Chris bagg. Along with being a full-time english teacher, Chris races as a pro. A couple weeks ago, Chris went down to Clearwater, FL to compete in the 70.3 world chamionships.... and really, he showed up. The following is his race report:

"The alarm went off at 4:20 A.M, and since I wasn’t sleeping anyway, I had the light on and my legs on the floor in a few seconds. It was the morning of November 10, 2007, and the 70.3 World Championships, in Clearwater, Florida, was only a few hours distant. I shucked the covers from my Super 8 bed (even pros stay in wicked cheap hotels) and got moving. For breakfast, I ate two peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and a banana while watching Sportscenter (again—it was the same episode that’d been on at 11:00 the night before). Then, I was off to downtown Clearwater, where I rode the shuttlebus over the bridge to Pier 60 and the swim start. I got there at about 5:20, almost two hours early, with everything basically done (at big Ironman events you have to pack your transition bags the day before, and leave them on numbered racks).

I checked my tire pressure, rested my helmet carefully on my aerobars, and tried to figure out what to do for an hour and a half. I took refuge in a porta-john to stay warm; I tried to linger in front of the NBC cameras; I tried to ignore the alarm bells ringing in my head. Are you sure you want to do this again? Maybe you shouldn’t? Maybe… Eventually, I went for a run on the beach, and realized that I felt good, fast, relaxed. The voices changed a bit. Maybe this will be ok? Maybe this is your day? Maybe this is…

I got in the water at 6:30 for a good, brisk warm-up, focused on swimming efficiently. Soon, I was lining up in the corral with 48 other pros, who looked loose, fit and happy, laughing and joking amongst themselves - I tried to tell myself that they all felt the same way I did. A couple minutes later, the women went off, and as soon as their splashes were lost to sight, somewhere beyond the 500 M marker, the gun for our race fired, and I was in the Gulf of Mexico, fighting not to be swam over.

I had decided before the race not to push it too hard in the swim. At Timberman, I tried to hang with Simon Lessing and Mike Lovato, only to blow a head gasket around 1000 M in - I paid for that move later, with two fully cramped legs coming out of the water. Though I didn’t make the same mistake today – I was swimming easy, I wasn’t surprised to be alone early on. At one point, I got into a group of four, but they cut the course and I didn’t want to get DQ’d this early for cheating. I kept swimming comfortably, and the buoys kept going by. I made the turn and headed back for shore, going directly into the sun. I lost some time by getting a bit off course, but soon enough (27:42), I was out of the water and up onto the beach.

The bike course at Clearwater, although aesthetically bankrupt, is fast. It’s flat, the pavement is good, and there is little wind. I found myself moving forward through a few men, then the women’s field, and then some more men. There is one marvelous section of the course, around 35-40 miles in, when you cross one of the bridges that connect Clearwater to the mainland. You find yourself at the center of a huge salt lake, and you realize what you would look like to the helicopter overhead: a tiny, rhythmic bug, oddly hunched but seemingly at peace.

Around mile 50 I got nailed with a thirty second passing violation: I guess I didn’t get by someone quickly enough. A shame, since that thirty seconds would have bought me 2-3 more places at the end of the day (funny that a race measured in hours can turn on a number of seconds). After a 2:07:04 bike split, I rolled into T2, feeling tired. As usual though, my legs loosened up a half-mile into the run, (although my quads threatened to cramp the whole time), and I started ticking along. I kept thinking Find a rhythm, don’t think about fast, just find a rhythm. First mile: 5:50, second: 6:04, third: 5:50. I was moving along at my goal pace, and there were only ten miles to go. I’m going to make it, I thought. I’m going to break 4 hours today.

1 guy I picked up at mile two stayed with me until mile eight or so, asking me for my splits. I was on the verge of telling him to buy a watch, when I finally shook him on the third climb over the Bayside Memorial Bridge. Only five miles to go. Then four. I passed someone else. Then another guy. I was passing people on the run! This was unheard of. With a mile to go, I passed James Hadley, and then got passed by a Brit named Fargus. In the last 100 M or so, I passed Bjorn Andersson, who had shut it down for the day. I know he wasn’t giving it everything, but I was still psyched. I came home in 1:20:28, and in all, 3:59:49 good enough for 24th place.

After the race, on the massage table, my left calf cramped for five straight minutes. It took two fully grown men to pull it loose again. If you’ve never cramped for that long, the only thing you’re missing is a visceral illustration of just how strong your muscles are: they can pull your own legs into bizarre loops of pain.

And with that, it was over: back in the shuttle bus, back in the car, back in the plane to Vermont. Now, it’s on to cross nationals, and a short time after, next season."

Here's a picture of Chris, in the old days (riding a road bike with clips, without an aero helmet):

I'm Done!

Well, that about does it. With a little work in the last few days, I’ve now covered pretty much all of Vermont. I’ve driven (or ridden) nearly every road, checked out every bike or running path, and swam in every pool (plus a bunch of lakes). All this is a single Jeep Cherokee with two bikes in the back, both packed among an old tent, a sleeping bag, and a lot of refried beans. I’ll spend the winter putting all this into a website – the information as much as my experiences - which will be up sometime early next spring. In the meantime though, I’m more than happy to share what I know. If you’re coming up here to Vermont soon, or are just exploring a new area of the state, and you want to know anything about the multisport scene, just drop me an email: multisportmaps@gmail.com - I’d be glad to help.

The Jeep, packed up for a trip:

Who We Are (Part 5) - Hard Work

This is a place to share a little bit about who we are as a company, and today, it’s a place to share about something that’s been on my mind. I’ll start with this: We here at Multisport Maps work hard. You might recognize it… it’s the same phrase I used to open a similar piece a couple weeks back. Then, I was talking about hard work as brute force – the hours I put in, and the stuff I get done. But now, I’m talking about hard work in a slightly different way – a way that goes beyond time or production, and on into emotional dedication.

Maybe this will help explain: Since the end of last season, I haven’t been swimming much, so when recently, I started again in earnest, nothing felt right – my balance was off, my timing was off, and I didn’t have a feel for the water… I was just bad. But, I put in the work. Not just pounding-out-the-yards work, but work doing the drills, and the work to keep showing up when it felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere. In other words, I was willing to do the real hard work – to have the patience to do it the right way, even when I had reason to doubt.

And sure enough, the other night, some things clicked, and I swam faster, easier, and more efficiently than, perhaps, I ever have. It was a blast to swim well again, and reminded me of the skills I use to be a better athlete, and really, that I’ve used to create Multisport Maps. At times in the past year, while launching the company, I’ve felt like I did in the pool - slow, unskilled, and overwhelmed. But just like with my swimming, I kept going… I worked hard. And just like hard work in swimming isn’t all about doing 5k days(though there are some), hard work at Multisport Maps isn’t all about putting in the 13-hour days (though there are some) – it’s about following my vision, even when I have reason to doubt – it’s about taking the time doing it the right way.

And that’s what you have here. The result is this website, and even more so, the one that’s being developed for next spring. Again, we at Multisport Maps work hard. No matter what’s happening, we’re willing to make the effort to do it right. To tell you the truth, I don’t know exactly how it’ll turn out – if the site will be a hit, or not even close. But to a certain extent, that’s out of my hands. All I can do now, is execute my vision, and of course, be willing to work hard to do so. That, I know I can do.

A Couple Quick Things

First, I got a new aero helmet in the mail today – I’ll be rockin’ the Rudy Project Syton next year. Of course, I had to take a spin with it on the trainer. Here’s what it looks like:


Second, some local kids were hitting a jump they made today – a picnic table wrenched against an apple box… pretty cool stuff. Here are a couple pics:


And last, congrats to friend-of-Multisport Maps, Chris Bagg, for his performance this morning at the 70.3 World Championship. Chris lived up to his “stud-pro” nickname, and went top-25 in the pro category… huge.

More Mapping

Over the past few days, I’ve been trying to get the last of the research done. I’ve already covered the far-away parts of the state, and now I’m focusing on what’s closer to me. All summer, I’ve said, “oh, I live right next to Saxtons River, or Grafton…. I can go take pictures anytime.” Of course, I was so busy traveling around, that I didn’t. But now, with the days getting colder, and snow on its way, I figured this was the time.

Driving around for most of the weekend, it was cool to see the changes happening in the landscape. You can still see some of the remnants of autumn here, but the once-vibrant leaves have lost their color, and mostly, have fallen to the ground. The bare trees create a stark feel, and when combined to the increasingly-harsh chill in the air, form a distinct picture of the early winter.

Some pictures from my area:

Between Rockingham and Springfield:

Just up the road from there:

Coming into Bellows Falls:

Me, reflecting on the change of seasons (or thinking about lunch… I can’t remember):

Underwater Shots

I just got this cool new thing - a plastic, watertight sheath for the smaller one of my digital cameras... now I can take pictures underwater. I've been playing around with it, and I thought I'd share a few of my favorites here:

Steve, crossing his right arm over (tsk, tsk):

Me, lifting my head and dropping my arm (tsk, tsk):

Amy, our resident cute tri-chick, playing around:

Steve, just goofing: