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Author’s note:  Reading this article will not make you a darn bit faster.  There are no key workouts, technique tips, or heart rate zones described here.   In fact, if you read the whole thing you probably stand to lose about 10 minutes of precious training time.  However, every once in a while it’s good to step back, laugh at yourself, and be thankful for all of the things that are going well in your training and racing.  After all, triathlon is supposed to be a fun part of our lives…right?!

In 1999, I bought my first “road” bike - a Quintana Roo TeQuilo.  In my nascent days in triathlon, I chose it mostly because the price was right and it looked fast.  Since then I have grown to appreciate all of the strengths of this hard-working machine, and I have pedaled upwards of 25,000 miles on it.  I am not ashamed to say it is my most trusted non-human friend.  Come on, raise your hand if you know what I’m talking about!

With time and increased use, the original parts would naturally wear out and needed replacement.  I can still remember the trauma of having to ride on mismatched tires for the first time.  I would end up learning a lot by buying special bike mechanic’s tools and tinkering for myself.  Over the next few years, we rode happily together and the maintenance was typical.

By contrast, this year has been an ongoing disaster; everything is breaking or wearing out on my bike simultaneously.  As you will see, I am not talking about replacing a worn chain or finding a persistent spoke flat.  To rationalize all of the weird stuff, I came up with a theory that sometime back in the year 2003, my bike was attacked by Gremlins.  Bear with me on this…do you remember the award-winning hit movie from 1984?  Allow me to take the “80’s Trivia” section of your brain for a quick aside.  My sincere apologies if this brings back old nightmares.  (To be honest, this movie freaked me out, too.) 

Perhaps this will sound familiar…There are only two rules that you must not break with these cute little creatures once you bring them home from the pet store.  First, you must never allow Gizmo to get wet.  If you do, he will multiply.  This may not seem too serious, but do you remember what happens if you feed him after midnight?  (Hint:  See picture, right).  This evil Gremlin is a beer-drinking mischief machine.  Of course, it took only 10 minutes in the movie for both of these rules to be broken, but Hollywood fans had a blast watching all the mayhem. More popcorn and soda, please!

 

Fast forward past Madonna and Nirvana to the current millennium.  Rough segue here, but I’m trying to bring you up to Ironman USA 2003.  Having had a great race the year before, I was returning to Lake Placid to shave some serious time from my Ironman PR.  The morning weather was ominously cloudy and threatening to rain, but who hasn’t dealt with those conditions in training before?

Having survived the Mirror Lake washing machine (a.k.a. the “swim” portion of the race), I managed to get on my bike feeling good.  After about 2 hours of riding, I reached into my pocket for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when something strange happened…I dropped it.  There was an uneasy pause in my cadence while I considered going back for it, but I remember thinking, “No big deal…I’ll just have to load up on energy bars for solid food.”

Now, this is where my memory gets a little bit fuzzy…at some point in the day it started to rain.  Who knows, I may have even dropped my sandwich because of wet prune-like fingers.  However, of this I am certain: every athlete and spectator remembers that the rain in 2003 was not a standard summer afternoon thunderstorm.  Oh no, the rain we experienced for race day was something out of the Old Testament, with 30+ mph gusts of wind and downpours that make the traditional notion of “cats and dogs” seem like a light mist.  It is no exaggeration to say that it was raining up, down, and sideways.  This could be a stretch, but my theory is that the combination of extremely watery conditions (a violation of Gremlin Rule #1) and improper feeding (breaking Gremlin Rule #2) unleashed at least one evil Gremlin who decided to take up residence in my bike that fateful day.

To make his presence known, my uninvited Gremlin guest got right to work.  While shifting gears to spin up a hill on the out-and-back section of the IM USA bike course, the chain freakishly tangled up within the rear derailleur pulleys.  Before I realized what had happened, I applied about 972 Newton-meters of torque to the pedals.  This caused the rear derailleur to bend the aluminum drop-out on the frame by about 30 degrees (narrowly missing the spokes of the rear wheel), and caused the lower derailleur pulley bolt to snap in half.  Yeah, holy $#*!  It took me about 5 minutes of surveying the damage for it all to sink in, and I thought for sure my race was over. 

As I waited for tech support on the side of the road, I made quick friends with a super-nice family that was watching the race from their front yard.  When I showed them what had happened, they ran inside their house and brought out some hand tools, and an old Huffy Santa Fe 10-speed.  In a miraculous coincidence, the rear derailleur pulley bolt on the circa 1984 Huffy was a perfect fit for my 9 speed Dura-Ace!  After about 35 minutes, I was riding again thanks to a transplant from a 20-year-old bike and a brilliant mechanic from InsideOut Sports.  My new friends roared with cheers as I took off, and a fresh shot of adrenaline coursed through my body.  The rain and wind continued to make for difficult conditions for racers and spectators alike.  Luckily, my Gremlin decided to take the rest of the day off. 

Although my bike split was a foregone loss, I still went home with a PR in both the swim and the marathon.  The good folks at Vecchio’s Bicicletteria in Boulder, CO handled the delicate surgery on my derailleur and frame.  For a short time afterwards, all systems were go.

Fast forward again past Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction” to the present day.  I’m back on a quest to earn the Ironman PR that eluded me in 2003.  For some extra insurance, I’m heading down to Florida for a notoriously fast course. 

The bad news is that this evil Gremlin is definitely still hanging around my bike.  Since the beginning of this year, I’ve lost (or launched?!) 3 water bottles and broke an “indestructible” cage.  I have worn completely through a tire, a set of brake pads, and my favorite Pearl Izumi bike shorts.  I’ve also found a crack that’s growing in the frame at the bottom bracket; broken several spokes on my race wheels, and most recently snapped the rim on my back wheel (see pics).  I had to remove a brake pad, pump the tires up to something like 8 PSI, and ride 22 miles standing up in order to get home!  What in the world is next?!

I share this story not to solicit pity or loaner equipment.  All of these problems will be fixed eventually, but it takes a conscious effort to suppress the idea that I need a fancy new bike.  (In the midst of many offers to buy used bikes from retired training pals, a good friend recently described how he could cut up my cracked frame and turn it into a lovely wind chime!)  In an age of carbon fiber “this” and aero-shaped “that,” I enjoy having an old school aluminum bike with 650c wheels.  I like the temporary intimidation factor of having a 55t circular saw blade for a big chainring.  My bike is still a fantastic machine for me, and it seems wrong to put it out to pasture.  Perhaps you have heard the phrase “Speed is 90% monkey, 10% machine.”  For now, I prefer the struggle of finding a functional 7%.

Of course, the other way to look at all of this misfortune is that there is a great lesson intended for me here somewhere.  The longer I participate in triathlon, the more I realize how much of one’s character can be exposed for examination.  Perhaps I am really being taught valuable lessons in flexibility, patience, and resilience.  I am also realizing that triathlon offers a safe framework in which we can all set our own goals, explore our limits, and take risks in hopes of finding a personalized form of enlightenment.  Personal growth does not usually come in the form of a new PR, but rather, from the journey of getting there.  At last, a cliché with an element of truth.

I would like to sign off with one request:  If you should happen to catch the ending of Gremlins, could you be sure to let me know how the evil creatures were finally defeated?