Training for You Know What

Yesterday I ran the James Joyce Ramble 10K. My goal was to finish under the 10 minute mile and I accomplished that. My other goal was to partake in the free Harpoon Ale at the finish line and I accomplished that too. Interesting to note that the very last finisher on the results page is also the first in her age group. So that's def something to look forward to! (you can click the title of this post for the complete results page... Next year I will have to run a little harder to beat that Stuart Christie!)

They're Done!

Let’s see… Three races on the third day of a three-day series, times two boats in contention… Doesn’t that equal — 666?! Isn’t that — diabolical??!!

The first race went in our favor. A good start, first at the first mark, followed not all that far behind by Clay’s wife Lisa, who has been sailing her own boat throughout the series. Clay himself was way behind. We’d done well on the right side of the course going upwind, so we thought the same side (now left) going downwind would favor us. Wrong! Lisa and another boat went off to the right and steadily gained in better wind.

At the finish: Lisa first, the other boat (mea culpa; I forget who) ahead of us by about a foot, and us third. But Clay, having apparently had a horrible start, reached the upwind mark in the middle of the fleet, went off to the left just as we did, and had just as much trouble. Neither Lisa nor the other boat had any hope of winning the series, and Clay finished three boats behind us. For the three-day series, he still led, but we were now only half a point behind him.

Satan, get behind me! Call it what you will — pride, hubris, ambition, greed. We thought we had him.

In the second race, we had a good start, but so did Clay. We were upwind of him, but he was slightly ahead of us, and by the middle of the upwind leg, his lee-bow advantage began to tell. Standard strategy called for me to tack, and so I did, even though my tactician (that would be Ross) emphatically disagreed. Ross turned out to be correct; although the boat seemed to move better on the new tack, when we tacked back we had lost not only several boat lengths, but also several positions. In the end, Clay finished first, and we finished fourth, giving back everything we’d gained in the first race (plus a quarter point).

Note to self: From time to time, listen to your older brother.

Final race, and we needed to win by four positions. That wasn’t to happen. We tried to foul up his start, but he thwarted us, oddly enough, by reaching the line way too early. To have any effect on him, we had to go with him, so we were early too and just ran down the line with him, having essentially no effect on him. Turns out that messing with a guy at the start is pretty tricky.

It was a pretty standard upwind leg; Clay got there first, and we were a close second. On the downwind leg, both Clay and we stretched out on the rest of the fleet, but we gained nothing on Clay. Not that it mattered, since we needed to be not just ahead, but ahead with several boats between us. A final upwind leg saw no changes, so the final race mirrored the series as a whole: Clay first, us second.

In the end, he could match our speed upwind but point a degree or two higher. That’s just sail trim. We’ll make adjustments, and the May series is coming up. In the meantime, contrats to Clay!

P.S. Just Another Working Stiff: Last Friday, Emma spent her first day on the job as a stockroom employee of a clothing shop called Talbot’s. She got the job on her own, or at least with no prodding from me. We have an Aikido friend, a young woman named Bailey, who works at the store, knew of an opening, and suggested to Emma that she apply. Asked how her first day went, Emma said that it was ok, but she was really tired and her feet hurt. Welcome to the working world, babe! Only forty-four years until retirement!

Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk!

I think I know what happened: Somewhere out on the water on day two of our spring regatta, aliens implanted the spirits of the Three Stooges into our bodies. At least, when I woke up the next morning I felt as if my body had been used badly (I admit — the post-race tequila may account for that), and when I recalled the racing it seemed like slapstick humor.

Actually, the first race went fine. Ross arrive late-ish, as he had let me know beforehand that he would, but he made up for it by bringing Kyle with him. For my part, I had talked to the race committee beforehand, and he (a committee of one?) was kind enough to stall things a bit until we got out there.

So, we had a good start and went off to the right; Clay had a good start and went off to the left; about two-thirds of the way up the first leg we met in the middle of the course — Clay on port and we on starboard — and it was just close enough that he had to duck us. We probably should have tacked on top of him, but didn’t, and so at the next crossing (we were now on port, Clay on starboard), we had gained some, but not quite enough, and we needed to duck Clay. After a little more sailing, he reached the mark first, but we were only half a boat length behind.

But then he went left and we went right, and left was the way to go. He gained about five boat lengths before we realized our error and jibed, but he stayed those five boat lengths ahead until the finish line, and we were second.

We sailed that first race in bright sunshine, but as we waited for the second race to begin, a dense cloud cover overcame Point Loma and moved in from the west. I now know these were not clouds at all, but rather camouflage in which the alien mother ship lurked.

We were in position for a good start to the second race, at the right end of the line, approaching on starboard, when I saw Clay coming in on the left side, on port. It was as if he had put up a sign reading, “Hit Me!” I thought, “Why Not?” I altered course. It was then that Moe took the helm from me. At the same time, Kyle’s page-boy hair turned dark and, suddenly, he was Shemp! Ross’s hair turned frizzy and…Larry sat where Ross had sat before! And Moe (I) let Clay get by, flopped over onto port, realized he (I) would soon run afoul of other boats, flopped back onto starboard, by this time had almost no speed, and got a horrible start near the back of the fleet. I’m not sure but I think someone tried to poke him (me) in the eyes.

We recovered. I exorcised the spirit of Moe. Shemp and Larry resolved themselves back into Kyle and Ross. And we sailed a fine upwind leg reaching the mark third (out of eight boats). Clay was in first and, by this time, untouchable. The other boat ran down the middle of the course while we reached off to the right, he hit a dead spot while we flew along, and although we closed the gap between us hugely, we had necessarily sailed a longer course and finished, perhaps, two feet behind him. Clay first, us third.

Exorcism, it turns out, does not come cheaply. The Stooges returned in full force for race three. Moe had another horrible start and we crossed the start line in — dare I say it? — last place. We crossed the start line — dare I say it? — minutes after the race started. By this time we were poking eyes and wielding truncheons, and Curly wasn’t even there but he was slapping his head anyway.

And the wind was dying. And the current was strong, and against us. And there wasn’t going to be any repeat of the second-race comeback. We did finally reach the upwind mark, but we almost died of old age before it happened. At one point we were to the left of the “upwind” mark, about twenty yards away, and the wind was no longer so much dying as RIP, but the current was robust and, I swear, it was what pulled us off to the right and around the mark.

Of course, no one else was going anywhere either, apart from where the current was taking them. Except that damn Clay, who by the time we were midway down the “downwind” leg had rounded the downwind mark and was making his way to the finish, when…the race committee canceled the race for lack of wind.

Nyuk! Nyuk! Nyuk!

So, with one day left to sail, we’re now three and a half points out of first. Wish us luck!

P.S. After pretty much every Aikido class, the Aikidoko repair to a local pub — the Bull Pen — for a few beers and a little conversation. Last night, a few tables away, a young woman was wearing an LBI sweatshirt. My camera was in the car. I was thinking — HUGE POINTS!! Alas, I’m cursed with the ability to imagine what other people might think. So the idea of a middle-aged man walking up to a young woman, unknown to him, and saying, “Hey, could I take your picture an put it on my blog?” seemed too open to misunderstanding. I expect no points, but nevertheless, Emma’s my witness — we encountered an LBI sweatshirt in Encinitas!

I thought this was funny

They're Off!

A weird realization: A few years back, if I could have written “Out of thirteen boats, we finished tied for first,” I would have written it in all uppercase letters and thrown a couple of exclamation points behind it. These days, I think, “Well, that was fun, but we’ve got some work to do in the rest of this series.”

With the advent of daylight savings, the Harbor Sailboats Tuesday evening racing has started up again. Missing from the competitors were some old favorites: Steve McNally, that servant of the people, needs to attend SD city council meetings on Tuesdays (he’s the principal aide to a city councilman), and Traci Miller was who knows where? There were lots of new racers.

There was also serious competition: First, Harbor Sailboats itself put a boat in this race, skippered by Logan McDuffy, an actual professional captain. (A twenty-something kid as well, a refugee from New York, and an absolute delight.)

Perhaps more important, there was the new nemesis — Clay Karmel. He entered the fleet fairly recently. We’ve beaten him (“we,” of course, being Ross and me), and he’s beaten us — the latter (if I remember correctly) when we were penalized severely for missing races while attending to more important things on Long Beach Island. Most recently, he beat Steve in a series in which Ross and I were unable to race. Our principal goal — BEAT CLAY!!

As we sailed before the first race, we felt that the right side of the course was favored early — on starboard, immediately off the line, we were pointed almost directly at the upwind mark — but midway up the leg, a serious header set in. So as long as a boat stayed right early, it would be in a commanding position midway up the first beat. Or so we thought, but others didn’t — both Logan and Clay went left off the start. Turned out we were right — we got a good start, and our only company on the right side (although quite close company) was a boat sailed by one of the regulars (a guy named Arnaud). After some tussling, we established a lee-bow advantage on him and pulled ahead. Logan — the leader over on the left side — tacked and came at us, but we crossed ahead, tacked to cover him, tacked again and reached the mark first. THERE’S NO BETTER FEELING!!! (Oh, wait, control yourself.) If starboard early is favored going up, then port late is favored going down, so we reached off to the right side initially, gybed about midway down, and finished first. Logan was second, and Clay was third.

The strategy worked so well the first time, we tried it again in the second race. Worked just as well, even though the race committee decided, in mid race, to recognize the “funkiness” of the course and change the location of the finish line. (Mid race course changes are done all the time, by the way.) This time we were first and Clay was second.

An incendiary aside: As we milled about between races, a guy from another boat dissed my hat. My Sunfish hat. He said I’d worn it last year and it was time to give it a rest. DUDE, I BELONG TO MSYC AND THAT’S THAT!!!!!!!!! (Whoa, calm down….)

So — the wind changes, the tide changes, the course changes, and racers should change with them, and so we did, but not quite enough. At this point, we had not been behind any boat at any point in either race, and again we reached the first mark ahead. This time, though, Clay was close enough that the rounding involved some comments about room-at-the-mark rights. The wind was now rather fluky at that upper mark and it had cost us. Even so, we rounded ahead and lost it on the downward leg. Ross was gracious enough to say that there were perhaps some irregularities in the crew work, but in fact we were ahead and Clay sailed faster and that was either a very bizarre wind effect or, more likely, the combination of my steering and mainsail trim. Result: Clay first and us second, by about a foot. It was a really fun race.

Last race, three legs, and some newbie had the race of her life. Don’t even know her. After finishing last in the first race, ninth in the second race, and seventh in the third race, she improved considerably in the fourth: she led at the first mark and she led at the second mark and she looked real comfortable on the third leg. We were second at the upwind mark, and Clay a close third, but after some downwind fumbling those positions were reversed at the downwind mark. On the third leg we engaged Clay in a tacking duel in the hope of passing him; he covered us exactly as he should; and unfortunately Newbie reverted to form. In the end, Clay passed Newbie a foot or so before the finish line, and we came in third.

So in the end, Clay and we were tied exactly: 6.5 points apiece, and each with two finishes ahead of the other. Logan was in third, and no one else close.

OUT OF THIRTEEN BOATS, WE FINISHED TIED FOR FIRST!!!! Calm down? Hell no, it was too much fun.

My Favorite Racing Rule

Rule 47.2: "No person on board shall intentionally leave, except when ill or injured, or to help a person or vessel in danger, or to swim [italics mine]. A person leaving the boat by accident or to swim [italics still mine] shall be back on board before the boat continues in the race."

Uh... Skip?..... I know this race is close, dude, but I'm kinda really workin' up a sweat, so I'm gonna take a little dip, ok? You know, cause, like, it's in the rules.....

News From Surf City

SURF CITY, N.J., April 2 — Much of the sand along this popular 18-mile barrier island had washed away, leaving sections of beach with barely enough room to spread a towel.
April 3, 2007


When sand from the ocean floor was used to replenish the beach at Surf City, military fuses and adaptors turned up.
After battles with surfers fearful of shifting wave patterns and homeowners concerned that their expensive ocean views would be blocked by sand dunes, the United States Army Corps of Engineers got started, leaving behind a renourished 200-foot-wide beach in the middle of Long Beach Island.

That is not all it left, however. About a month ago it was discovered that mixed in with the 500,000 cubic yards of sand dredged from the ocean floor were several unexploded military fuses, and now the Corps of Engineers is racing to make sure that Surf City’s 1.4-mile stretch of beach — the lifeblood of this borough — will be safe for bathers when the season begins in two months.

“We have to verify if they’re dangerous, and then call the proper organizations out to clear them out, ” said Keith Watson, project manager from the Philadelphia office of the Corps of Engineers. “Depending on what we find, it could go from a little time to more than we want to know.”