There is a french expression, "sauver les meubles" which translates to "save the furniture from the burning house", or "save what can be saved". That sums up quite nicely my race at the Canadian Duathlon Championships last Saturday in Montreal.

Most duathlons I had done recently were sprint distances (5km run, 20km bike, 2.5km bike), but this was an Olympic distance (10,40, 5). I new the field was going to be strong, and Benoit Simard who won in St-Sauveur, was at the start line. My strategy was simple, maybe too simple. Simply stay with the lead group on the first 10km run, use my strength on the bike to build a lead, and use my remaining energy to hang in on the last run for a 1st place finish.

For the first half of the race, the plan work. The first run was fast. I started in the lead group of 5, we dropped 3 and I came into the first transition second just behind another racer in about 34 minutes.? I hopped on the bike, was in the lead with another racer for about 15km until Benoit passed me. I tried to match the pace, but soon ended up with my left calf cramping and seizing up, to the point where I had to pedal with my right leg only for a few hundred meters until the left calf came back.

From then on, I knew I had to do whatever I could to finish the race at a pace that would not do any more damage. My legs were simply beaten up from the run, and I could not get into my regular bike pace. I focused on keeping a good position on the bike, pedaling smoothly without overdoing it.

I started the second 5km run in third place. My mind was telling to push harder and try to make up some time on the leaders, so for the first 2 kilometers I gave it all I had. Then came the breakdown again. My thoughts became negative,? with questions like: "that's it, you're 40 next year, time to stop racing. This hurts too much. Why the h#$% did you buy a new HED Jet Disc if your done racing?"

With more than 1 kilometer to go, I look back and there is a group closing in on me. I know I'm their rabbit, and I feel like the Energizer Bunny running on dead batteries from the dollar store, being chased by a pack of foxhounds. I'm about to be eaten and my chances are slim. If I crack, I'm probably down to 15th place or so.

So I kept running on automatic pilot, got passed by one hound that broke away about 400 meters before the finish, and came in about 10 seconds before the chase group. It turned out OK, with a 4th place finish overall, and first in my age group. Had the race been a few hundred meters more, the house would have burnt down completely.