Author: Paul Tomblin

Armond Bassett Race, 2010


Today was the Armond Bassett race, right here in Rochester. I’ve been looking forward to this race because last year it was my first long distance race ever, and since I was coming back with a lot more base, a lot more hours of training, and a faster boat, I assumed I’d demolish my old time, and possibly the competition as well. Didn’t work out like that. As you can see, last year I was 1:36:12, and this year I was 1:33:05 (actually, I was a bit faster than that, because I started my GPS on one of the “x seconds to go” marks.) So in spite of having a boat that’s probably 30 seconds to a minute per mile faster, I only gained 4 minutes. That’s disappointing.

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They started the kayaks in one wave this year, with no canoes around. That certainly reduced the pile up problem we had last year – most people didn’t even come up to the line until 30 seconds to go, and there wasn’t as much back-paddling. Immediately on the start, Jim Mallory was off like a shot like we expected. Bill Feeney did one of his awesomely quick starts, and I tried to stay with the group with him and Doug. Pretty quickly, though, we dropped Bill and so it was me, Doug, a guy with a mullet in a greenish EFT (I mentioned him in the blog at last year’s race – I think his name is Jim but I’m going to call him Mullet Man) and a guy with short greyish hair in a Thunderbolt or Marauder (I’m going to call him GHG), all trying to catch Mike Littlejohn who had a phenomenal start. We did catch his wake, and so it was GHG to his left, Doug on his stern wash, and me trying to ride Littlejohn’s. I couldn’t hold it, though, and dropped back to his stern wash. I’m not sure where Mullet Man was at this point. I was going way to fast, and my pulse rate was up around 170.

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At the turn, they all gapped me, including Mullet Man. I pulled hard to try to catch them back up, or at least catch Littlejohn who was starting to drop off from them. Scott Stenberg was around me, on one side or the other, and somebody (who I eventually discovered was Paul D) was bumping into my stern as he rode my stern wake. Scott started talking to Paul D, and then just before the railway bridge, as I’d been pulling them along for 2 miles, he suggested I drop onto their stern wakes and take a breather so we could work together. Paul D took the lead, Scott took second, and I was in the best seat in the house behind them, trying to recover from that way too hard start and that long pull.

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As we passed the start line, Scott was trying to tell Paul what line to take around a C-4. They ended up getting so close to them that their paddles clashed, and then as I passed them they did a perfect “pit turn” and turned me out 90 degrees from my line. I swore at them, and then sprinted to get back on Paul D’s wake, but the sprint was just too much and I soon lost them. Looking back on the video, I can see now that the C-4 wasn’t really to blame for pitting me – I think they actually weren’t all that good, and I crossed too close in front of them trying to stay on Scott and Paul. So whoever you are, sorry I called you bastards.

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The rest of the way was just one long hot grind. I didn’t pass any kayakers, and no kayakers passed me. I kept thinking I was getting closer to Paul D (who’d been dropped by Scott) but I never actually did. Jim and I crossed (him downstream and me upstream) quite a bit higher upstream than last year, which I think might indicate some improvement on my part, at least.

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And the return downstream was so hot and airless that I couldn’t maintain anywhere near the speed I had on the first downstream portion after the start. A few times I could get a respite behind a C-2 or C-1 stock boat before I’d go blasting past it, and once as Holly Reynold’s C-2 pro boat came by I was able to hold her wake for a tenth of a mile or so. But most of the C-2 pros came by in groups, which made it too hard for me to get on their wake for any length of time.

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On the way down, I knew I had about 30 seconds to a minute on Mike F, and so while I was mad at myself for not being able to catch Paul D, I could at least take comfort that so far Mike hadn’t caught me. And that’s about how it stayed to the end – the video shows him finishing less than a minute behind me, which would put him about a minute slower than last year (1:32:13 last year).

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I don’t know what it’s going to take to get the speed increase I should have gotten with this faster boat. Cooler weather, I guess, and maybe not wearing dark blue on a brilliantly sunny day. And man, I wish I had the self discipline to lose weight. That’s what it’s going to take to improve, but I just can’t seem to do it.

Not exactly how I planned to spend this evening

I want to start putting in some long distance paddles in the Thunderbolt – specifically I wanted to do a couple of 10+ milers early this week before I have to start tapering for the Armond Bassett race on the 10th. I’ve been doing mostly surf ski paddling since Tupper Lake, and that mostly tires out my balance muscles rather than my forward stroke muscles and aerobic system. Tuesday’s practice is another surf ski session, and Wednesday is the time trial, so really that left today and Thursday or Friday.

So I figured what I’d do is get to work early today, and get home early, feed Widget, and then go out for a long paddle at GWC, then come home and walk Widget. And everything was going perfectly according to plan (I even brought along my headlamp in case I took longer than expected) until I got into the boat. I pushed my feet down onto the foot rest, and there was a strange noise and the foot rest gave way. That’s when I had a sudden flash of insight that a few days ago I’d found a wing nut on my driveway. After spending a few minutes trying to figure out if I could rig something in the boat to hold the foot brace in place, and failing that, trying to see if I could paddle without it. No luck. So I packed up and brought the boat back home.

Then I spent at least an hour with the boat upside down on a couple of saw horses, with my head lamp on, trying to squeeze both arms into the front of the boat, trying to thread screws through angled holes by feel, and generally getting frustrated and annoyed. With the boat upside down and my head in the hole, the heat rising off my body got trapped inside the boat, raising the temperature and activating the smell of hundreds of hours of wet swampy feet that have soaked into everything in the kayak over the years.

I finally got it done. I think I got the foot brace in the right holes – I guess I’ll find out on Wednesday. And because I missed the long workout that I wanted to do, I think on Wednesday I might do a lap around the bay before the race.

Rochester Open Water Challenge – too challenging?

Today was the Rochester Open Water Challenge. The wind was coming from the south, meaning the bay was a little rough, but the lake looked very smooth. So I decided to paddle the long course, in spite of the misgivings I’ve had for the last couple of weeks. There was a chance that the wind would pick up in between the time the short course started and the long course did, but I figured it would be better to aim high and fall short than to take the safe route. Although I have to admit it looked like the waves were smaller on the lake than on the bay, so I was maybe taking the easy way out by going out on the lake.

The course was different than last year – Ken was hoping to have us run directly into the waves for a bit over two miles, then surf back, and then repeat it. But with shifting winds and no predominate swell, he ended up putting the turn around buoy 2.25 miles straight off shore. I tried not to be freaked out about being that far from shore. After all, there were three safety kayaks out on the course, not to mention the committee boat at the turn.

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At the start, going through the channel, there were immediately three distinct groups – Jason Q was leading, with two guys hot on his tail, including one in a Thunderbolt T-REX, then there was Doug and Mike. I was beside Mike Littlejohn and Stephen Bergash, although they both started to pull away as soon as we got into the lake proper. I didn’t see where the woman in the rowing skiff got ahead of me, but I don’t think she was ahead of me in the channel.

As we went out into the lake, the water could best be described as “lumpy” – there were waves coming from all directions at once. Not very big, but very random – if there was any predominate swell, it was coming from the west, almost directly the direction we’d have been going if we’d taken the original route. It was throwing me off big time. My stroke was falling apart – I was using my arms way too much, and I had to keep interrupting my stroke to brace or just to plant my blade in a wave top. I was trying very hard to push more with my legs, because that seems to help my stability. But I just wasn’t doing well. Not paddling well, not feeling stable or comfortable, and getting further and further from shore. I had to keep telling myself that if I dumped, I could just turn back, and if I finished one lap, I’d still have done more than if I’d done the short course. It was the only way I could keep myself going.

As we got to the committee boat, I was actually catching Stephen B. But he surprised me by going to round a buoy instead of the boat, and got another length or so on me. I quickly got it back, and passed him just as Julia rocketed past us both. We were doing all right, but the chop was getting worse. Julia dumped, and Stephen yelled that he’d take care of her and I should go on ahead. At one point this very strange little group of three waves appeared out of nowhere – it was fairly big, but only about 25 feet wide. I tried to surf them, but I didn’t have the energy to get on them right, and they were too close together. As a matter of fact, the only good surf I got was the last hundred yards or so into the beach. It was almost enough to make me want to turn around and go back out again, but only almost. I’d had enough, and I was ready to quit.

I’ve been beating myself up about the decision to quit ever since, but I was probably right to quit rather than going out again and dumping because I was overtired.

Undecided, but leaning…

As of right now, I’m about 75% sure that I’m not going to do the long race in the Open Water Challenge tomorrow. The weather forecast is for winds around 7mph from the WSW, which might favour my lack of wave skills by giving some protection from the wind near the shore, but Dan thinks that Ken might go to a “go straight downwind to a buoy a few miles out in the lake, turn and come back and repeat” format if the wind isn’t blowing into shore. If the swells are anything like they were today, I’m definitely doing the short course on the bay.

I think I’ve given it a good try to get ready for open water racing these last few weeks, but I’ve got a bit of a way to go before I’m ready to race it. Definitely next year, though.

After tomorrow, my focus will be back on the Thunderbolt as I get ready for Armond Basset (10 miles on the river) and then (maybe) the 90.

Getting there…

My IP block has been delisted by SpamHaus. Unfortunately, in spite of the “R” in “RBL” standing for “Real-time”, apparently some ISPs cache their copy of the SpamHaus RBL and are still blocking me. Hopefully normal service will be restored eventually. My outgoing mail queue has gone from 120 to 85, so I guess some ISPs are updating their caches.

I also discovered that evidently you can’t just rsync your whole mail spool area over to a new system because postfix somehow ties the spool file names to the inodes they’re on or something. I was getting strange errors like fatal: lock file defer B99792602A5: Resource temporarily unavailable until I did a “postfix check”, and it said something about renaming files, and now everything is happy again.