DWYRMAN 2012 Race Report

DWYRMAN is done and done!

Congratulations and thank you so much to EVERYONE who participated in the most epic, most affordable, most potassium-enriched, most challenging race ever run in Cincinnati - the inaugural DWYRMAN carnival of funk.

Chris and Sanrdo tied for the win, setting course records, (with asterisks abounding) but no legitimate instant replay to refute the shared victory. There will be a battle brewing over the next 360 days leading up to DWYERMAN 2013 or perhaps SANDYMAN 2013, 'cause you bet your butt there'll be another - bigger and badder and this time well-organized event of epic proportions. DUHN DUHN DUHN!!!

First of all, my lovely wife Susie deserves the top place among the honor roll for completing what she calls the "wife of the year" performance, sag-waggoning, burrito-hauling, traffic-dodging, couch-surfing, and down right saving the day from behind the scenes. She's right - wife of the year. What a peach! And in the same weekend she managed to whip out a 20 mile run on top of teaching her annual two hour Tour de France Spinning class at studio s. Second honors go to all the other participants' wives, husbands, partners, and friends who put up with our antics.

THE EXCESSIVE DETAILS
Even though the original course was designed to complete 227 miles of swimming, biking, and running over two days, due to some typical Dwyer fudge-factoring, the course had to be improvised for safety, legality, and to serve the greater goals of the event.

The Start: Saturday 6:17 am (5:45 am Brazilian time)- meet at Bass Island in Newtown.

I scavenged my Facebook files and found about 35 crazy bastards that I feel like I've gotten to know better thanks to cycling (one more reason to love bicycles). I couldn't have assembled a more disparate group of friends. I love them all but I was like, "O man, I hope these guys can find some common ground for conversation or else it's gonna be a long awkward day."

Introductions were quick but effective. Matt McCune refused to ride without some jokes to warm us up. (Sounds like a typical Ohio State Buckeye soccer warm up to me). Rob Messmer dug deep into his repetoire, "What kind of bees give you milk?" [Silence and yawns from the sleepy crowd] "BOOB-bees!" Rob is a real talent.

Lee Ann Werner was quick to applaud sarcastically, "You're obviously making great inroads with the ladies, Rob." And the ice was broken. There were cat calls from the crowd for me to deliver a speech. So, I tried to combine the world's greatest cinematic pump-up speeches from Braveheart, Independence Day, Ghandi, A Few Good Men, and Goonies. Some kind of speech NOT like what I wanted came out. I don't remember exactly - I'm dangerous with a microphone. But it was hopefully something about the pure joy in riding with friends and enjoying summer. And then we were off...headed northeast, toward Ol' Milford and Round Bottom Rd.

(L-->R) Sandro, Katherine, Casey, Christine, Lauren, Lee Ann, John, Rob, Franklin, Russ.  (Yours truly taking the picture). 

Destination One - East Fork Lake
It was about 25 miles of empty roads to East Fork, other than the ornery pick-up truck that gunned past us, crossing the double yellow, narrowly missing a state trooper and killing everyone. No one likes to see someone get busted... except twelve nerds in lycra who see impatient drivers like this every weekend. Score one for the rule of law.

East Fork Lake where the turkey vultures like to hang out. 

"That's strange, I don't remember those no-swimming signs being there, last week when Franklin and I scouted the course." If there had been signs, I'm positive Franklin would have noticed and planned an alternate swimming location, because that guy is always prepared. Nevertheless, there were the signs. And here we were, ready to swim. What were we going to do, NOT swim. Nuh nuh. Sometimes you need to know the rules just so you can break them. Lee Ann's eagerness to break rules was borderline anarchic. And her spirit was infectious. Some of us swam, while other illegally sunbathed. So much for the rule of law.

Awesome picture courtesy of Christine Robbins, obviously the only one with a photo-journalistic sense in the group. 

Most of us just jumped in with our tri shorts. The water was much warmer than the air and so calm that it was easily the most comfortable and enjoyable open water swim I'd ever done. We hugged the buoy line toward the opposite shore. Not all of us swam, but the most impressive performance was easily that of my kid brother, John, who swam the mile with no goggles and barely any swim experience - Tarzan-style.

John and Russ exiting the boat ramp. John is a Bearcat who showed up some of the other triathletes with his low-tech, no goggle studliness. No one lives life harder than that guy.

The classy folks over at the Fitness Electronics Blog were kind enough to let me borrow a GPS watch (Garmin Forerunner 910xt), to track my swim distance and time. In the mad rush of the work week prior to DWYRMAN and the logistics of hosting the event, I neglected to figure out how the gizmo actually worked or how it could save my butt. Luckily, Franklin and Rob were veteran Garmin buffs and they gave me a crash course...which I'd later come to fail. So, even though the swim course wasn't marked with buoys, or a dotted line like I saw on the map, my watch told me that by the time I got back to the dock, I had swum 1600 yards in 28:00 minutes and that seemed like a nice round number to hop out. One lake down; four more to go.

Destination Two - Ceasar's Creek
The ladies of the Element Cycles Women's Team and Casey had to scoot home to their prior commitments, so unfortunately we lost four members of our crew shortly after East Fork. The group was still strong though, but I was fearing that it might be too strong and too much sausage, if you know what I mean. Only the Brazilian bombshell, Sandro, had committed to going the full DWYRMAN distance with me, so to be led by five seriously Irony-men, plus Lee Ann who could probably trump them all, pushing the pace for the next 50 miles seemed like it could backfire on Sandro and me later in the day.

Except for a few stretches, the course was corn fields and gorgeous, even improved from a week earlier when Franklin and I scouted the course after the Ceasar's Creek tri. Here's what it looked like just a week before. The road was completely gone and the only way around was through poop-smelling pourage! For DWYRMAN, though, this exact road was totally back to normal in what had to be a record repair time.

Rt 132 under construction

As usual, when the hills approached, I took the bait and pushed the pace too much with the guys doing the short-course (100 miler). What can I say - I love erratic, stochastic behavior. I blame Rob, who just escaped from Alcatraz. 

Me and my brother John at Ceasar's Creek

Now, I swear I attempted due diligence for safety and legality for our next swim. Here's the map of the south end of Ceasar's Creek Lake from the State Park website. Where would you plan a swim so as not to get arrested? If you chose the picnic area where the little icon of the man with the elbow is, you'd be way wrong! The Rangers will hunt your ass down.

The perfect observation deck to watch some swimmers...if you're a park ranger looking to bust some people. 

Swimming (and biking) is against the rules here, but the ranger was a good sport about it. He pretended to have tickets for us. But they were really just mountain biking maps. Thanks Ranger Rick!

Hardi-har-har! Franklin thinks he is so funny for punking us with the old fashioned ranger-with-ticket-look-a-likes trick.  "O yea, well your pecs are look-a-likes."

Ceasars Creek Lake near the dam

We only managed one out and back loop in the lake before Ranger Rick kicked us out. "The dam could suck you up," says Ranger Rick. It sounded unlikely, but we didn't want no trouble. The good news was we had time to kill since Susie was stuck in traffic with our made-to-order burritos. The bad news was that we had to go off-course five miles just to find a real beach where we could finish our swim and, at this point, Rob, Matt, Franklin, and Russ were getting antsy about meeting their curfews. How were they going to make it home in time? 

I would trust Russ to track a falcon on a cloudy day when it comes to knowing every bike route by heart. He is also the maestro at orchestrating Belgian wheels and team time trials. All I can say is they hauled booty to get home. According to Rob's Garmin and Strava, their paceline back to Cincinnati earned them the second fastest bike split along that portion the Miami Scenic Trail ever. And then there were four. 

Destination Two-and-a-Half - Ceasar's Creek Legal Beach

John, Lee Ann, Sandro, and I rode the extra miles to the Ceasar's Creek beach to pack in more swimming and wait for burritos. (Good golly, what's so special about these burritos - performance-enhancing clenuterol?) The previous swim was the nicest. But this one was the toughest due to the heat, the hunger, and the water conditions being so choppy. Once again, Lee Ann managed to get yelled at by the lifeguards at the beach for straying beyond the buoys. She was so proud of her sinister behavior. I love her. Totally burrito-worthy. 

Sandro, John, Lee Ann, and I break for magic burritos at Ceasar's Creek.

Susie finally got through her two hour traffic jam and found us for a beautiful lunch at the picnic table. After the swim, was the only time all weekend I felt my body somewhat out of control. I was calorie-low and shaking, about to bonk. I had plenty of calories available in my Camelbak, but I wanted a real meal for once this weekend. We all had our fill of mangoes and bean burritos. 

Sandro man-handled the mangos for lunch

13,000 calories can only get you so far in the absence of "real" food. 

After lunch, Sandro and I had to say goodbye to the last of our support crew. John and Lee Ann hitched a ride home with Susie. As we were hugging and kissing, I noticed the strangest thing - Sandro was starting to smell really good. How is it that this seasoned Ironman veteran forgot his goggles, but remembered his cologne? Meanwhile, I couldn't smell any worse. Not so much me, but my clothes. Even Lee Ann complained that she had could smell her own "lake breath". Susie gave us all a piece of gum and suddenly it was as if my mouth had taken a shower in the Alps and now I was completely refreshed for the challenge of DWYRMAN to really begin. 

Leaving Ceasar's felt like the real beginning of DWYRMAN and where the test of endurance began with my man Sandro.

Destination Three - Hueston Woods State Park 

In typical Dwyer fashion, I steered us out of Ceasar's Creek park in the opposite direction that we wanted to go. I didn't figure it out until 4.5 miles out of the park. So, I apologized to Sandro, who was full, happy, and forgiving. We did an about face and headed due west, toward Hueston Woods State Park. This would be the longest leg of the DWYRMAN course even if we hadn't gone the wrong direction. 

To make up time, we rode far longer on Rt. 73 than I had planned. There was a wide shoulder for much of it, but it was a total highway and very stressful and not at all scenic. We got through Franklin and Middletown quick enough, but just as the roads become scenic again at Springboro, we ran into trouble. Sandro was bonking so we started looking for a pit stop. We saw the cutest little bike shop in old Springboro, but decided it would be a distraction and that a gas station would be best to load up on more calories and electrolytes. We found one about a mile out of the way, and just as soon as we had left, we were descending a hill and Sandro's tire popped. Not just his inner tube, but his tire - it was completely shredded. He started cussing in Portuguese and Spanish at his mistress Patricia Renata (the name he's given his Specialized road bike). 

Our eyes met and my heart sank. "Chris, this is not good. Our adventure might be ove...BIKE SHOP!!!!" We both had the thought at the exact same time. Sandro plopped down in front of a picturesque farm house and I booked it as hard as I could back the way we came to the bike shop. "Are you #$% kidding me?!" In the ten minutes that had gone by since we were just at this bike shop, they had closed and no one was around. I checked my iphone and the nearest bike shop was north in Centerville - 11 miles away. I called Sandro and let him know I'd be at least an hour. We had no choice. I knew our DWYRMAN course would be altered somehow by now, but I just couldn't let it end here. 

I bought Sandro two new tires and two tubes, since his were pretty worn thin. Meanwhile, he was chumming it up building international relations with his hosts on the farm. They were the definition of good Samaritans, offering him water, bike pumps, corn, a refrigerator box to sleep on. 

Sandro replaces his back tire and tube while local yocal David practically invites him to join the family.

My trip to the bike shop was basically a one hour time trial and the only time all day that I held a heart rate above zone three. Zone two was the goal, and from now on, I will swear by it's magical powers, but we were running out of day light and had no time discuss theory. We had only three hours of daylight remaining by the time we got the tire fixed and we still had another 50 miles between us and Hueston Woods. 

The next 50 miles were the most pleasant scenery and conversation of the day. Sandro and I discussed deep life matters, the challenges to attaining mental health, and the beauty of finding community. We knew we wouldn't be able to make it to all the destinations of of our planned DWYRMAN route. But there was relief in the freedom to choose our own adventure. 

As we neared Hueston Woods, the tendonitis in my knee was out of control. I felt like I was riding one-legged. My right leg felt invincible and like I could ride forever, a testament to zone 2 endurance, but my left leg felt like my knee's tendons had detached and burst into flames in a shark's mouth. 

Hueston Woods is literally one of my three "happy places" that I go to mentally during visioning exercises. So as we entered the park at sunset, with a sliver of a rainbow on the horizon, it felt like I was truly arriving home. It felt very good. No, we didn't complete our goal route, but I was very proud that we had still completed 163 miles of riding in one day and ~3 miles of swimming. It was too dark to swim our mile at Hueston Woods, but I did take a nice running dive off of the dock into the lake. 

Day one conquered!

Susie had to rescue us at Hueston Woods. 

DAY TWO

We had a bit of trouble getting out of bed and rounding up supplies, and I will take full credit for making us late to the park. I will go on record as being later than the Brazilian. Skipping coffee could have put us back on schedule, but Brazilians and my wife just don't go there, girlfriend.  Our plans were to meet at 10 AM Sunday at Miami Whitewater Park on the west side of Cincinnati near the Indiana boarder. We were going to run four laps around their eight mile bike path and then we were going to ride our bikes home via Anderson Ferry to Rt 8 Kentucky through downtown Cincinnati (~50 miles). My knee was on the brink of injury from the bike, so I cancelled the ride home. We didn't even take the bikes. 

I felt awful that I made my brother-in-law Mike wait for us at the park. He's just recently gotten into running and if he could complete one lap, it would be the longest run of his life. Spare time is not something this young dad has an abundance of. He's truly an inspiration to me. If I could complete four laps, it too would match the longest run of my life (and my age). Luckily, Lee Ann was back to crew us for another dose of sadism and she and Mike found each other in my absence. They got busy right away making friends and ratcheting miles, headed counterclockwise until we arrived and could find them going clockwise. 

To paraphrase 4-time world champion Chrissy Wellington (about Ironman), "When you run a marathon after riding 112 miles, at first your legs feel like jelly. But later, they will feel like lead." As I suspected, one cannot expect to run normally after riding 163 miles. But surprisingly there was absolutely no pain in my knee or any other body part as we ran. It felt like a relief, different from cycling, trotting along in heart rate zone 2 (~125 beats per minute). And again, I felt like I could have gone all day long at this pace (~10:15/mile). 

At mile two, we collided with Mike and Lee Ann who were moving fast. They looked strong and already good friends. 

Mike's been doing a lot of barefoot walking, running, and living and already has a good looking stride.

Miami Whitewater birth canal. So metaphorically delicious. 

Sandro, Me, Lee Ann, Mike, and Susie (taking the pic) in the heat of the day.

Mike and Lee Ann had afternoon engagements and so they left Sandro and me after one lap. There we were again, on a very long quiet road with just our thoughts, half-baked lectures, dissertations, books, and a Camelbak full of water and calories.  We were plowing through them all. Time was passing very fast for me. 

We were both experimenting with our nutrition strategy. Up until Sunday, Sandro was a Stinger Waffle virgin. He sure turned waffle-slut pretty quickly, and basically deep throated my whole Y2K stockpile. Meanwhile, I was running with a squeezable jar of honey, which may or may not be considered vegan. But there I was, LOVING IT, not wanting to put another god-forsaken artificial gel in my body. It worked well. And not all bees feel exploited by the honey harvesting practice. In fact, their very future (and ours) may well depend on good local beekeepers. But I digress. 

It was sooo interesting running with Sandro. He claims to be a reincarnated refugee from the planet Zeist, where he used to dwell in smoke form. That is why his running form is not quite tip top shape yet. But he ran the last four miles barefoot which was pretty darn impressive. He attributes his lack of injury to his barefoot running. He convinced me to run the last mile barefoot, which was a fun change of pace, although I haven't done it for several months. The pavement was just cool enough by the time we were finishing. 

At mile 16, my ankles and hip flexors started to ache in a dull pain sort of way. It never went away, but miles 16-19 were the hardest. Then, I sort of embraced the pain. It is a very similar feeling to pulling an all-nighter doing homework. It hurts, but it just continues to hurt, while not getting much worse. 

By mile 32, Sandro and I noted that we both felt like we could totally keep going. Zone 2 running was feeling very powerful. It wasn't lightening fast, but we were already guaranteed a share in first place with no threat from other racers. And guess what - WE WON AGAIN!!!!

I feel well prepared for September's 50 mile run at the North Face Endurace Challenge in Madison, Wisconsin.  But beyond preparation for something else, DWYRMAN itself was a stand-alone event of my summer, and indeed my bucket list. No, it's not a famous (or real) race or anything, but it had all the ingredients of what makes life worthwhile to me. It was a journey, not a destination. 

Sandro taught me to that in life, it's best try anything twice. The first time, liking it or not liking it may be a fluke, but if you try something a second time - then, you know. Maybe next year we can try to complete the full distance DWYRMAN. With a few logistical improvements, completion might be possible. With some matching leopard print speedos we may even have a good looking team. Sandro is even threatening a SANDYMAN 2013 up in beautiful Interlocken, Michigan. I'm in! And Russ is even countering with a MEYERNMAN, which will probably skip the swim and just push his Whole Foods shopping cart instead and then circumnavigate the entire state of Kentucky. Russ, don't we do that every weekend? You know it. 

Sandro deserves a kiss for taking such good care of me. 

Susie deserves a kiss for taking such good care of all of us. 

Muchos besos to all the participants! It is such a blessing to know such cool people. 

Susie Crossland-Dwyer, Mike Davison, Russ Meyer, Franklin Baker, Rob Messmer, Matt McCune, John Dwyer, Lee Ann Werner, Christine Robbins, Lauren Meeth, Kathryn and Casey Blankenship, Sandro Barros, and Dan Dwyer in spirit.  

REFERENCES

Here's the planned route minus the running. Here's the actual bike route.