Your Weekend AI Prototype Is Not a Production Strategy

We keep hearing predictions about an AI reckoning. There’ll supposedly be a reckoning in pricing as companies discover that inference isn’t free, a reckoning in valuations as investors begin separating durable businesses from thin AI wrappers, and a reckoning in staffing as organisations work out which roles have genuinely changed and which reductions were driven more by optimism than evidence.

There's another reckoning already happening inside companies.

Senior leaders are experimenting with AI in their spare time, building surprisingly capable applications in an evening or over a weekend, and returning to work with the wrong lesson. They describe what they want, iterate with the model, connect a few services, and produce something that looks remarkably close to a working product. From there, it’s easy to conclude that software development has fundamentally become that simple and that internal engineering teams should now be able to deliver production systems at the same speed.

Timelines shrink, staffing plans disappear, and individual engineers are increasingly expected to handle product management, user experience, design, architecture, development, testing, deployment, and support. In some cases, all of that responsibility is placed on one person.

After all, a leader built an app over the weekend. Why should a team need three months?

Because the two things aren’t even remotely equivalent.

A prototype proves possibility

A prototype is designed to answer a narrow question: can the idea work, can the core interaction be demonstrated, and can the concept be made tangible enough to gather useful feedback? AI has made this process faster, cheaper, and more accessible. People who previously needed engineering support to explore an idea can now build something themselves, while engineers can test alternatives without committing to weeks of implementation.

That’s genuine progress, but a prototype succeeds when it demonstrates possibility. A production system succeeds when it continues working after it encounters reality.

A weekend application rarely needs to support thousands or millions of users. It may not need authentication, authorisation, auditing, accessibility, observability, data retention, backups, rate limiting, internationalisation, incident response, or disaster recovery. It doesn’t have years of accumulated business rules, nor does it need to integrate with legacy systems owned by several other teams. It probably doesn’t have contractual service levels, regulatory obligations, established support processes, or customers depending on it to run payroll, receive medical supplies, manage financial transactions, or operate their businesses.

Most importantly, the cost of failure is usually close to zero. When a prototype breaks, its creator refreshes the page, adjusts the prompt, edits the code, or starts again. When a production system breaks, customers lose trust, employees are pulled into incident response, contractual commitments may be missed, and the company may lose money.

You can build anything quickly when there are no guardrails and failure has no consequences.

The difficult work starts after the demo

AI is extremely effective at helping someone get from nothing to something. It can generate an interface, define an initial data model, create API endpoints, assemble common components, and produce enough functionality to make an idea feel real. That first portion of the work can happen at remarkable speed.

The danger is assuming the remaining work is equally easy.

Production engineering is full of details that don’t appear in a demo. Teams still need to decide what happens when two users edit the same record, an external dependency becomes unavailable, a model returns malformed or unsafe output, or a migration fails halfway through. They need to enforce permissions across tenants, manage customer data deletion, recover from partial failures, diagnose degraded performance, prepare for unexpected scale, and ensure that someone can operate and maintain the system after the original developer leaves.

These aren’t excuses invented by engineers who are afraid of AI. They’re normal production concerns. Ignoring them doesn’t make them disappear. It merely delays when the organisation pays for them, usually at a much higher cost. And the bill always comes due.

Coding faster doesn’t eliminate product development

AI can make good engineers substantially more productive. It can accelerate research, reduce repetitive work, suggest tests, identify defects, generate scaffolding, explain unfamiliar code, and help engineers explore several implementation paths before choosing one. Engineering leaders should expect teams to adopt these tools thoughtfully and should challenge them when they refuse to engage with capabilities that could materially improve delivery.

But faster coding doesn’t eliminate the rest of product development. It doesn’t reduce the need to understand the customer, resolve ambiguous requirements, make trade-offs, validate the user experience, or align multiple teams. Nor does it remove the work required to ensure that a system is secure, maintainable, operationally sound, and appropriate for the organisation’s architecture. Writing code faster accelerates one part of the delivery process, but it doesn’t make the other parts disappear.

The idea that an engineer can now “do it all” confuses tool-assisted capability with infinite capacity. An engineer may be able to generate a passable interface without a designer, but that doesn’t mean the interface is good. They may be able to write product requirements, but that doesn’t mean the right customer problem has been identified. They may be able to generate hundreds of tests, but that doesn’t mean those tests validate the assumptions that matter.

AI can help one person perform more types of work, but it doesn’t guarantee that one person can perform every discipline well, simultaneously, under an aggressive deadline.

Unrealistic plans create predictable failures

When leadership overestimates the extent to which AI has changed, the consequences aren’t theoretical. Timelines are created without engineering input, assuming implementation is trivial. Teams are understaffed because every engineer is expected to produce several times more output. Design and testing are compressed because they’re treated as optional activities around the “real work” of generating code. Technical concerns are dismissed as resistance because the prototype appeared to work, while the risks are transferred to the people responsible for delivery even though they didn’t create the plan.

The organisation then acts surprised when quality falls, deadlines slip, employees burn out, or the system fails in practice.

In the worst environments, this becomes openly toxic. Engineers raise legitimate concerns about feasibility and are accused of being negative. Estimates become commitments before the people doing the work have been consulted, and teams are threatened with replacement if they can’t meet dates that were fabricated without any meaningful understanding of the system.

That isn’t an AI strategy; it’s management failure with an AI justification.

Healthy engineering organisations don’t remove the people closest to the work from decisions about how it’ll be delivered. Leadership has every right to set priorities, define outcomes, demand urgency, and challenge teams to find a faster path. Engineers shouldn’t be allowed to hide behind complexity, inflate estimates, or resist change simply because a new approach is uncomfortable.

But urgency isn’t the same as fantasy. Challenging a team to move faster is leadership. Inventing a deadline and threatening the team when reality doesn’t conform to it isn’t.

Engineering judgement matters more, not less

One of the more damaging ideas emerging from the current AI enthusiasm is that experience matters less because models can provide knowledge. In practice, AI makes judgement more important.

A model can generate several possible solutions, but someone still has to recognise which one fits the context. It can produce code quickly, but someone still has to determine whether that code is secure, scalable, testable, and maintainable. It can confidently recommend an approach that’s subtly (or overtly) wrong, and someone still has to detect that error before it reaches production.

The faster code can be generated, the faster bad decisions can be embedded into a system.

Experienced engineers aren’t valuable because they type faster. They’re valuable because they understand consequences. They recognise patterns, identify hidden dependencies, ask uncomfortable questions, and know where apparently simple changes tend to fail. A mature organisation needs to use AI to amplify that judgement, not to declare it obsolete.

The answer isn’t to slow down

None of this is an argument for preserving old processes simply because they’re familiar. Some engineering organisations are too slow. Some teams have accumulated ceremonies, approval layers, architectural rules, and testing practices that add little value. Some engineers use quality as a vague justification for avoiding accountability. AI should force organisations to examine how work gets done and remove steps that no longer justify their cost.

The answer isn’t to pretend nothing has changed; it's to identify precisely what has changed.

Perhaps a prototype that once took three weeks now takes two days. Perhaps a developer can complete a well-defined implementation in half the time. Perhaps test creation, documentation, migration scripts, and operational tooling can be accelerated. A smaller team may even be able to own a broader surface area because AI reduces the burden of moving between unfamiliar technologies.

Those are reasonable hypotheses, but they should be measured. Compare cycle time before and after adoption. Track defects, rework, incident rates, customer outcomes, and maintenance costs. Find the parts of the delivery process where AI creates durable improvement rather than a compelling demonstration, and then change planning assumptions based on empirical evidence.

Don’t take one leader’s weekend project and extrapolate it into an operating model for an entire engineering organisation.

What responsible AI leadership looks like

Leaders who genuinely want AI to improve delivery should ask where it’s already creating measurable leverage, which tasks have become substantially cheaper, which constraints still dominate delivery time, and what new risks it's introducing. They should identify where teams can experiment safely, distinguish customer protections from outdated process, and consider how roles should evolve without pretending that every discipline has disappeared.

They should also involve the people doing the work. Ask engineers to demonstrate how they’re using AI, where it saves time, and where it creates rework. Ask product and design teams how faster prototyping changes discovery. Ask security and operations teams which risks require new controls. Set ambitious goals, then allow the team to shape a credible plan.

Good leadership creates constructive tension between urgency and reality; it doesn’t remove reality from the conversation.

The real competitive advantage

The companies that benefit most from AI won’t be the ones that conclude software engineering has become trivial. They’ll be the ones that learn where AI genuinely compresses work and where complexity remains stubbornly human. They’ll distinguish prototype speed from production readiness, expect more from their engineers, and continue to respect engineering judgement.

They’ll use AI to improve talent rather than justify impossible staffing models. They’ll shorten feedback loops without abandoning quality. They’ll move faster because their systems and teams are better, not because leadership has declared that every difficult problem should now take a weekend.

Unfortunately, if you’re at the wrong end of this chain and leadership has stopped listening, there may not be a clever solution. You can present evidence, explain the difference between a prototype and a production system, offer alternatives, identify trade-offs, and propose a narrower path that delivers value sooner.

But if speaking honestly is treated as insubordination, fabricated deadlines are enforced through threats, and leadership has decided that professional judgement no longer matters, leaving for a better company may be the most rational choice.

And yes, I use the word “better” deliberately. There are few faster ways to lose capable people than to tell them, directly or indirectly, that their experience, judgement, and voice no longer matter.

AI may be changing how software is built; it hasn’t changed the fact that people do their best work when leadership respects reality.

What I Learned From My Engineering Management Job Search

I was recently asked to talk about my job hunting process.

The tactical version is easy enough to explain. I did not apply to every job under the sun. When possible, I applied directly through a company's career site rather than relying on LinkedIn. When companies asked additional screening questions, I treated those answers seriously, saved the strongest versions, and reused the parts that applied across future applications.

Those things helped, but they were not the biggest unlock.

The biggest unlock was narrative clarity. I had the experience. I had the scope. I had the stories. What I did not have, at least not clearly enough at the start, was a concise way to explain the shape of my career and the kind of engineering leader I had become. Once I started thinking about my career as a sequence of increasingly impactful progressions, everything changed.

This did not make the job search effortless, and I do not want to pretend there is a universal formula for a difficult market. Timing, network, company needs, and plain luck all play a role.

But the shift in narrative clarity changed the quality of the process. It helped me get out of the resume submission black hole, move into more meaningful conversations, and eventually evaluate more than one strong opportunity.

Turning a Career Path Into a Coherent Story

My career has not been a perfectly linear move from individual contributor to manager. I spent many years as a software engineer, moved into engineering management, briefly returned to individual contributor work after meeting the objectives of my team's charter, and then moved back into management with a clearer understanding of the kind of leader I wanted to be.

On paper, that path looked a little unusual. In conversation, it became one of the more useful parts of my story.

The IC years gave me technical depth. The first management chapter taught me how leadership is different from individual execution. The return to IC work gave me perspective, even though I initially struggled with it because I felt my leadership journey was still in its early stages. When I moved back into management, I did so with more maturity, more clarity, and less ego.

That path helped me explain something important about how I lead now. I am technically proficient enough to understand the work, but I do not see management hovering over implementation details. I use that technical depth to understand trade-offs, ask better questions, coach effectively, and create the conditions for teams to execute well.

The Story was the Product, not the Resume

One of the biggest shifts in my search was moving away from a resume full of responsibilities and towards a clearer leadership model. I started describing my work less as “managed a team” and more as building the operating systems around the team: how we hire, manage performance, deliver work, and create the conditions for consistent execution.

That language gave recruiters and hiring managers a clearer way to understand what I actually do. It also helped me avoid sounding like every other engineering manager's resume. Most engineering leadership resumes include themes such as: led a team, delivered projects, partnered cross-functionally, improved processes, and mentored engineers. While those things may all be true, they are not always memorable.

The more useful question became: what changed because I was there? That forced me to sharpen the stories behind the resume bullets and connect them to real operating impact.

The Two-Minute Narrative Mattered

I also developed a short version of my story to use early in recruiter and hiring manager conversations. The goal was not to recite my resume. It was to give people a fast, coherent mental model for my career.

I talked about my journey from software engineer to engineering manager, the lessons I learned during the transition, and how my leadership had matured into something more deliberate and operationally focused. That two-minute version became important because it gave interviews a stronger starting point. It helped me sound less reactive and more intentional, and it made it easier to connect individual stories back to a broader leadership philosophy.

Vulnerability Helped, But Only When Paired With Standards

I made a point of being honest about the parts of management that were hard for me early on. I was not a perfect new manager. Most people are not. I talked about the support I received from leaders and HR partners who gave me room to learn, make mistakes, recover, and grow. I think that mattered because it made the story more human.

But vulnerability by itself is not enough. Engineering management is not only about being supportive when things are going well. Good leaders still have to be good when things are not humming.

So I also made sure I had clear stories about coaching, raising expectations, managing performance, and making difficult calls when the bar was not being met. That combination seemed to resonate because humility without standards can sound soft, and standards without humility can sound brittle; an important balance.

AI-Native Execution Became the Differentiator

The stories that generated the most interest were those about AI, hiring, and engineering execution.

At my previous company, I revamped our hiring process to better screen for engineers who effectively used AI. Not as a crutch or a shortcut, but as a real part of how modern engineers can increase leverage, improve feedback loops, and move faster. That hiring work changed the team's talent density, and once the right people were on the team, possibilities opened up.

The team began using AI to materially improve how we worked, especially around automation, testing, and engineering workflow. Those stories were much more compelling than generic claims about “using AI” because they were connected to concrete operating impact. Hiring managers were not interested in AI theatre. They were interested in what changed, what became faster, what became easier to maintain, and what work became possible that had not been possible before.

These were the stories that moved conversations forward.

The Market Is Still Behind on AI

One of the things that surprised me most was how far behind many companies still are on AI adoption. Not just in buying tools. Many companies have tools. The gap is in changing how teams operate.

There is a big difference between “we have access to AI” and “AI has changed how we hire, build, test, review, support, and deliver software.” Many companies are still much closer to the first statement than to the second.

That was surprising, especially given that companies have the technical talent, budget, and organisational scale to move faster. It also made the AI-related parts of my story stand out more than I expected.

The Practical Application Lessons

A few practical things helped, too. I did not optimise for application volume. I applied to roles where there was a plausible fit, including some that would have stretched me professionally. When possible, I avoided one-click application flows and applied directly through the company’s career page.

For applications with additional questions, I treated them as opportunities to create a signal. Over time, I built a small library of strong answers that I could adapt instead of starting from scratch every time. That helped me move faster without compromising the application's quality.

But the tactical mechanics only worked because the underlying story became clearer.

The Real Lesson

The job search reminded me that experience alone is not enough. You have to help people understand the shape of your experience.

For me, that meant getting clear about the kind of leader I am and the operating impact I tend to have. I help teams raise the bar, use better systems, and ship more effectively without unnecessary drama.

That sounds simple, but getting to that level of clarity took work. However, once I got there, it paid dividends.

Summer Open Triathlon Race Report

For the first time I can remember, maybe ever, I was both confident and relaxed going into a race.  They say the second night before a race is the most important night and to get a full night's rest and while I might argue that it should start about a week out, more, quality, sleep is better than none.  Thursday night resulted in a quite crappy sleep with me waking up every few hours.  But Friday night, I went to bed a little early and slept soundly with none of the pre-race jitters that usually keep you awake starting at 2am.

I'd set my alarm early enough to ensure I got to the race right as transition opened, only was a tad late and as a result didn't get the money transition spot.  I did, however, still get a really decent one and set up my stuff.  We were told four-to-a-rack, but that left lots of space and I knew from experience that late arrivals would move other, non-present athlete's stuff over to make room for theirs.  Even knowing this, I took my bike out for a warmup ride since I'd never ridden the course before and couldn't drive it beforehand.  It was only a 12.5-mile loop and I had plenty of time.

We had our own lane coming out of Union Reservoir and for the next several miles marked with cones.  But when the road turned right, the cones stopped and I realized I didn't have directions or know the streets so I just winged it.  Turns out, I guessed right and did manage to ride the entire loop.  As I'd suspected earlier, coming back to my rack, someone else had racked there bike where mine would have gone.  Thankfully, he was still there and I had him move his stuff over.

I finished setting up and started putting on my wetsuit.  We still had ample time before starting, but I wanted to make sure I was acclimated to the water.  Or, at least as much as possible given the 54º temperature.  The water was cold and I got in as much of a warmup as I could manage - I didn’t want to start cramping.

We line up to start and I take a left of center position up front.  The horn sounds and we’re off.  I go out hard and strong and eventually someone catches me and passes but he’s going too fast for me to be able to hang on.  I did most of the swim on my own, without drafting, which stinks, but sometimes is the nature of the beast.  About 300-400m in my chest tightened up and I forced myself to relax and backed off.  One of my points of emphasis this year is swimming less in training, and not working so hard on the swim in racing.  Was it a good strategy, I don’t know, but I was 3rd in my AG on the swim.

T1 was a smooth transition with no issues.  Due to the run over the muddy and grassy berm from the parking lot to the dirt road I chose not leave my cycling shoes clipped in to my pedals but I did when dismounting after the bike so in retrospect, I should have just left them clipped.

The bike was uneventful.  Only two riders passed me during the entire loop and neither were in my age group.  I passed a ton of riders, but I stopped looking at age groups on people’s calves and just rode my race.

T2 was even smoother leaving my shoes clipped in to my pedals, but the problem was that due to the cold water and probably the airflow on the ride, my feet were completely numb - exactly like last year.  I ran on stumps to my rack, dumped my helmet, pulled on my shoes, grabbed my race number and was off.

I tried to keep a high turn over on the run and was initially successful, but eventually slowed down.  I don’t recall when I started feeling my feet again, but it was well after mile two.  The out-and-back course was flat, having just been grated, but sported some rough spots with decently sized rocks churned up by the blade.  There was also a massive puddle that had to be navigated.  Only two guys passed me on the run, but neither were in my age group and I believe had started in a wave ahead of me so I already had at least three minutes on them.  The second guy passed right before the finish and I should have held him off, but didn’t.

All in all, it felt like a really solid race for me at the time and was confirmed when I looked at the results later and saw that I’d made the podium, getting third.

Swim:     10:59 (3rd in AG, 31st overall)
T1:        1:14
Bike:     34:29 (3rd in AG, 31st overall)
T2:        0:40
Run:      23:22 (6th in AG, 56th overall)

Total:  1:10:46 (3rd/13 in AG, 29th overall)

Thanks to my wife, my coach Billy Edwards, my shop Foxtrot Wheel & Edge, my team Foxtrot Racing, sponsors GU Energy and Rudy Project, multisport shop Colorado Multisport, for all the support.

La Carrera - Epílogo

I was pretty spent after the race as it was a fairly intense 75 minutes.  The rain had let up and was done for the day.  Most of the American delegation hung out at the finish line cheering on the rest of the competition whom I'd like to think was, at that point, pretty stoked to have anyone cheering for them, given the weather.

At this point, we hadn't been given any indication that there wouldn't be any amateur awards and since Amy had won the female division, we packed up our gear and rode over to where the elite awards ceremony was to take place.

We didn't have to wait long to witness history.  The American National Anthem was played for Renee's win in the elite women's race.  I have to believe that this was either the first time or certainly one of the very few times that song has been played on Cuban soil.  Certainly since the revolution.  I don't get goose bumps often, but man, I sure did then.

All the Americans who'd remained at the conclusion of the awards ceremony gathered for a group picture with the president of USAT, Barry Siff, and the president of the ITU, Marisol Casado.

Making History

Now that the festivities and competitions were over, for us anyway, we could get on with being tourists (even though, legally, American tourism is not allowed in Cuba).  Some of the group decided to take a cab back to their hotels, but a group of about eight of us decided to ride back - in our Team USA gear.  It must have been quite a sight for the Cubans seeing us ride through the streets.  We got horn blasts and thumbs ups from bus drivers and stares from pedestrians.  One driver sped on ahead of us, stopped in the middle of the three-lane road we were on and took pictures before we rode by.

With all the rain, the ride back was very wet and very dirty.  We tried to capture just how dirty our legs were but the photo doesn't quite do it justice.

Dirty Legs

We agreed to meet on a time for dinner and broke up to go get cleaned.  I didn't even bother trying to ride back to my hotel this time, instead opting for a cab.

La Carrera

This was not Cuba's first time hosting a triathlon, but it was the first time hosting one so official as an ITU competition that was also a championship race.  They still have a lot to learn.

We used the same racks as the elites, but more were set up.  We discovered shortly that they weren't actually stable, being held together by zip ties and duct tape.  As more bikes were racked, the problem erupted with all the racks (and thus, bikes) falling down in domino fashion.  After a conversation between the ITU officials, it was decided that we would use the ground as our transition area which meant the bikes were lying down too.

Because everyone and everything was so wet, body marking was impossible and was effectively nonexistent.  We had timing chips, but in retrospect, I'm not sure what for as no age group results for the sprint were ever posted.  I managed to get in a very brief warm-up swim near the water exit ramp.

The swim lay in the closed end of the marina, the water level of which was not ground level, but rather a good two meter drop from the top of the retaining wall at ground level.  We lined up on the wall before someone pointed out that it was probably not a good idea to have amateurs dive in and that having an in-water start was best.  We all jumped in and treaded water next to the wall attempting to avoid the rocks, shellfish, and other sea life that dotted the bottom.

Out of nowhere the horn blew and we were off.  I tried to hang with the lead swim pack but after only 3 weeks back into training they eventually started pulling away.  They were fast and I never found the fast feet that I normally do so my swim time wasn't my best.  I managed to average 1:40/100m for the 750m.  Out of the water and up the ramp there's another American right in front of me.  I think he passed me in the last 100m of the swim.  We are the first two Americans out of the water.

Unused to the current transition situation of everything lying on the ground, I completely miss my bike, but not by too much.  Not trusting the situation for leaving my shoes clipped in, I'd unclipped them and left them on the ground.  I slap them on and proceed to mount too early.  I'm used to a clearly marked and labeled mount line.  Running a bit further, I find the correct mount line, mount a second time and headed out on the bike.

The rain had stopped, but only temporarily.  At some point during the first of four laps on the bike, the skies opened up again and didn't stop.  I recall a Cuban kid riding up ahead but continuously looking back, like he was waiting for me to bridge the gap.  We were told it was not a draft legal race and so I remember thinking this odd.  He hops on my wheel and I just hammer on.  Turns out, it was a draft legal race and so he got to recover in my draft while I, being so worried about a penalty, dropped back out of the draft zone every time he pulled ahead.  We eventually overtake another rider somewhere from Central America, I don't remember where.  He hops on our wheel and a little later I hear a yell from whom I think is the cuban and feel someone rubbing my back wheel.  I turn and the second kid has pulled off to my right.  I yell something about keeping his line and to pay attention.  He takes off and I don't know if I scared or motivated him (or even if he finished), but I never saw him again.

The Cuban kid clearly wanted to work together but I still didn't know it was a draft legal race so I did all the work and continued to drop back when he overtook.  We ride our laps in the pouring rain through massive puddles praying no potholes lurk beneath the surface.  I had a damn good bike for a January and only three weeks of training.  My normalized power turned out to be 240 watts, only five shy of my 2014 peak.

We come into T2 and I don't even bother with my socks as everything is just soaked.  I start running and I feel my feet sliding around in my shoe.  Not a great situation to be in when one is looking for stability.

A few km into the run, an American passes me and I can't keep up.  My Cuban biking buddy is long gone up the road.  The rain continues to pour.  A little while later, the lead female, also an American, passes me.  I remember when my run used to be strong and vow that this year my run results will be different from 2014.  Three years off from racing and two knee surgeries did their job well.  I stay mentally strong and gut out a finish.  The run was long by nearly 500m but I'd managed a sub 8:00 pace.  Not great, but for January, it was fine.

Results were never posted so I have no idea on placing, but I was fairly close to the front.

Swim:  12:29, 750m
Bike:  37:14, 20km
Run:  26:36, 5.5km

Día de la Carrera

I wake up Saturday morning knowing I wouldn't be able to make the elite women's race which went off a little too early.  This turned out to be too bad as the US women placed 1-2.  I had already intended to watch the men's race so I gather all my race gear and schlep my bike downstairs.  I get a taxi driven by a guy jamming to Lionel Richie off a USB stick plugged into his radio.  While most of the cabs are from the 50's, nearly all have retrofitted Pioneer or Kenwood quality stereos that play CDs or take pin drives.  We head towards the race venue with my official race bracelet acting like magic as my taxi is waived through checkpoints at which he would have otherwise been forced to stop.  My driver was very happy and impressed.

I get to the race site and meet up with some of the other US athletes.  The US men are warming up and I say hello to former Boulder resident and fellow FAC member Dan McIntosh, who now resides in San Diego but whom I'd unexpectedly run into at the the airport in Mexico City waiting for our Cuba flight.  None of the US men had a great day, but one climbed his way to sixth with solid run - even after being stuck in the first chase pack on the bike.  At some point during the men's race, the skies opened up and it absolutely poured.  Everyone tried to huddle under any awning or tent that could be found.  The rain let up by the time the men finished racing, but it was only temporary.

Friday Afternoon/Evening

At this point, I still need to go and pick up my race packet so I look on the map for the marina where the race venue is hosted.  It's just on the opposite edge of the map from my hotel.  It doesn't look far so I decide to ride.  What the map doesn't show, however, is that the most direct route does not allow bikes.  I take it as far as I can before tackling the unlabeled side streets.  15 miles later (it's 8 in reality) I finally get to the marina and check out the only part of the course that was listed online.  I see an old man riding an ancient Peugeot and ask where packet pickup is located.  He's missing most of his teeth so I didn't really understand, but got the gist that it was back the way I came.  I ask the guards at the entrance to the marina and they give me better directions.  I find the location and get my packet before swinging by the mechanics tent to inflate my tires to the proper solidity.  Having killed both my bottles, I look for a safe refill station.  I find a bar that sells bottled water and while filling them up with the intention of riding home when done I see a large man wearing a Wisconsin Badgers cycling jersey and he's speaking English....to other people who are also speaking English.  Hooray!

It was the rest of the U.S. contingent, or at least, a bunch of them.  I follow and make contact.  They were on an organized ride via a local from Canada who does Cuban bike tours.  One of the riders, a radiologist, had hit a rock and gone down breaking his collarbone.  Not good.  I offer to watch bikes while some of the others get their packets.  The rest contact the race officials and call an ambulance.  It takes 30 minutes for it to arrive and I get the back story.  Within a minute of him going down, a car stops to help.  The occupants speak perfect English and it sounds like they just came from Brooklyn.  We'd been told we would have minders; government officials following us.  None of contingent believed it was a coincidence that they just happened to be there so quickly.

We get the doctor squared away and decide to ride back together meeting for dinner at 7 at La Hotel Nacional.  We ride on the main road where bicycles are not allowed, but no one stops us.  I show them the embassies, including the Russian compound, that I'd passed this morning.  Just past it we get waved over by motorcycle police.  We pull off on a side street and look at a map for legal road back.  The police were totally cool and let us go.  We get a lot of looks riding back taking care to dodge the rocks and potholes that litter Cuban streets. If Cuba does anything right, it's potholes.  They are nasty.  Even the cars have to avoid them.

We go back to the bike shop from where they'd originally left this morning and go our separate ways agreeing to meet for dinner.  I attempt to ride back to my hotel which I know is only 2k up a road on which I'm not allowed to ride, taking side streets.  40 minutes later, I arrive back at the intersection from where I started and sheepishly figured I'd just brave the sidewalks.  It was starting to get late and I didn't want to miss dinner with the group.  I get to my hotel, shower, change, gather up all the donations I'd brought and grab a taxi to take me back to the bike shop.  But I realize, I have no idea where it is or what it's called - there is no sign,  I vaguely recall the area and so my driver goes up and down streets helping me look for it.  He's a good sport about it.  I'm late, and we can't find it.  He encourages me to get out and walk as many of the streets are one way and it's hard for him to navigate easily.

Thankfully, I see the group standing on a street corner and ask them to wait while I drop off all the donations.  We head to dinner led by the wife of our tour guide.  The food was incredible.  And ridiculously inexpensive. In the US, with that many people at that type of restaurant, dinner could have easily been over $700.  It wasn't even $250.

Nearly every building in Cuba is falling apart or looks like it's about to

I sat next to the wife of the guide; her name is Ana.  She speaks some English but as the others fire way at each other in English she sits quietly.  I engage her and get a history lesson.  Cuba, with a few, clear exceptions, is not much different from the US.  Prior to the revolution, people were racially segregated, blacks and whites (there are no Asians).  After Castro took power, that all ended and forced integration was a result.  Unlike the US, however, there are no racial tensions.  But there are still stigmas attached to each race, VERY similar to the US.  Havana is very safe and safety/security is taken extremely seriously.  The healthcare system is very good.  Most people are quite healthy and there are no fast food restaurants.  It's still socialized medicine, so help takes a while.  Our radiologist waited 4 hours to see someone.  Ana explains that before she retired she, too, was a doctor.  Only she made 30 CUCs/month.  It's an impossible salary on which to live and she says that many Cubans survive because of relatives in the US sending back money.

After dinner, we walk back to the shop and split up with some of us opting for a walk.  We walk along the sea wall and it is literally packed with teenagers, dressed like teenagers, doing teenager things (use your imagination).  Nearly all of them have cell phones, which is ironic, because the cost to send a text message is more than many Cubans make in a day.  The police are omnipresent but they only observe.

The Malecón

Ultimately, we wind up walking back to my hotel where some use the restroom before turning around and heading back.  I remain, get my race gear together, and go to bed.

Friday Morning

I wake up Friday morning in a better place than I was the night before.  But I had a knot in my stomach.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I was completely out of my element and not dealing with it well.  While I speak a decent amount of Spanish, VERY few people speak any English and it's difficult to communicate effectively.  I pull myself together and go to the hotel lobby for breakfast.  I'm careful to avoid anything that looks raw as I have no idea what's safe at this point.  I hear a Brit order food and watch him walk through the buffet.  I decide an omelette with peppers is ok.  It was.

I head to the front desk to ask about making change.  The woman working informs me that this hotel doesn't make change and that I would have to go to the bank.  I ask where it is and she tries to describe it before telling me to go upstairs to the gift shop to buy a map.  I do, but the map is three CUCs and I only have 1 left from the previous night.  She points out the street where all the banks are and lets the take the map making me promise to return and pay the additional two CUCs.  I head back to my room, reassemble my bike and pack my bag to bike over there but finally decide that a cab is the best way to go.  I load up my necessities: passport, Canadian dollars, health insurance card (we were told to carry it everywhere), wallet, and iPhone which is currently a $400 paperweight that can also play games.

The view from my room

I go downstairs and get a taxi explaining to the driver what I need to do.  Change first, then a SIM card for my phone.  Changing my currency was easy.  We drive for a while to where a Cubacel office is passing all the embassies:  Kuwait, Sri Lanka, Malaysia.  We start passing one that keeps going and has a massive concrete tower that overshadows the entire compound.  I ask what embassy.  Russia.  I forgot to take a picture of the Russian embassy, so I shamelessly ripped them off of Wikipedia.  Like every other building, the embassies are old.  The Russian embassy looks like something out of a Steven King novel.  Old, greying concrete from the 50's comprises all the buildings.  Seeing the brand new Audis parked in the compound is just flat out weird.

Russian Embassy (courtesy Wikipedia) 

Russian Embassy (courtesy Wikipedia)

We arrive at a Cubacel office but the line is at least 40 people deep.  I ask if I can get a SIM card for my phone from one of the locals, a kid, waiting in line.  He says yes, but I have zero interest in waiting for several hours.  He takes me around to his buddies and asks them if any of them have an extra SIM card.  They don't.  I go back to my taxi and ask if there's any other offices.  He says yes, but it's in the complete opposite direction of my hotel than we went.  Disheartened, I told him to just take me back to my hotel, but he tells me wait a minute and we find a hole-in-the-wall satellite office on some random side street a few minutes from where we were.  There were only a few people in line and one of them speaks perfect English.  I ask why so many people are waiting at the offices and he says that it's the last day of a 2:1 promotion by Cubacel.  All Cuban cell phones are prepaid and the promotion is for every CUC you spend, you get one.  No limit.

I get my SIM card and take it next door to be cut to fit in my phone.  I plug it in and turn it on.  After unlocking, I see full bars and Cubacel in the corner and nearly cry.  I speak with a man who has family in Miami and he shows me how to make an international call.  No texting.  The Cuba systems don't talk to the American ones.  The embargo is present everywhere.  I call my wife and get her voicemail.  I finally break down and cry babbling something incoherent about needing to talk to her and then hang up.  I have the cabbie take me back to my hotel trying a few more times to reach her.

I try again when I get back to my room.  Success!  I try to keep it together while I talk to her and fill her in on the previous 40 hours.  I am doing much better.

In Cuba and Back in Time

It's late Friday night and I'm about to spend two hours trying to get through Cuban immigration.  There are 30 counters all with officials working but there are literally 400 people waiting in various lines.  Apparently 7pm is when all the European flights get in as well.  I pick one that looks shorter but after waiting 20 minutes and literally not moving, I pick another.  And then another.  This last one turned out to be the winner, but when each person takes two to five minutes at the counter I did the math and settled in to wait.  I chatted with the two men behind me in line who were on my flight from Mexico City.  One is an attorney for casinos and the other is in marketing.  They are here for a bachelor party, only the bachelor missed his flight.  Mexicans come to Havana to party.  It is to them, what Cancun is to Americans, but without Americans.  The attorney's son was born in Dallas and he speaks about his many ski trips to the U.S., including several weeks he spent in Telluride.  We then talk football; the American kind.  He's a huge Raiders fan.  I apologize.

I finally get to the front of the line and it's my turn to play 20 questions with the officer.  Where are you from?  What is your flight number?  Have you recently been to Africa?  I....wait, what?  Africa?  Have any of your family members recently been to Africa?  Cuba takes the Ebola threat quite seriously.  Do you have health insurance?  Show me.  She finishes and unlocks the gate to let me pass.  I go though X-ray and then on to baggage claim.  Since it's been two hours, our luggage has already been offloaded.  I find my suitcase.  It's missing the brand new REI luggage tag I just bought.  Maybe it got ripped off.  Where are the bicycles?  I ask some official looking person in Spanish.  He rattles something off that I don't understand.  I ask him to speak slower.  They are in the corner.  I find my bike box and it, too, is missing it's luggage tag.  They were ripped off all right.

Exiting baggage claim and into the terminal, I'm met by hundreds of people all waiting for someone or something to go through those doors.  They all stare at me.  After all, I have a massive box on wheels.  I push it around the terminal looking for cambio, change, where I can get some CUCs, convertible Cuban pesos.  Cuba has two currencies:  the CUC which is used by foreigners and tourists, and the Cuban peso which is not.  In reality however, it seems like everyone uses the CUC.  The CUC is pegged at 1:1 to the American dollar, but there is a 10% penalty for converting dollars to CUCs so I brought Canadian dollars, which have no such penalty.  I was told that it wasn't all that long ago that locals would be arrested and thrown in jail if they were caught with American dollars.  Wow.

After wandering around for a few minutes, a cabbie walks up to me and asks if I need a taxi.  I say, si, pero tango no Pesos.  Yes, but I have no Pesos.  He shows me to the second floor where I make change.  I ask about Cubacel, the national cellular carrier.  He says they are closed.  There will be no phone calls tonight.

We go outside to his cab and along with only one working headlight, his cab held together by will alone.  We barrel along on pitch black streets at speeds your mother told you never to drive, barely missing cyclists who wear no lights or helmets.  Everything is old.  Everything is run down.  Think of it as buying a brand new house and car in the 1950s and then just letting them sit.

I get to my hotel and check in.  They have no WiFi.  It dawns on me that I cannot contact my wife at all and tell her I made it and I'm ok.  I get to my room on the 12th floor and my first thought was "Oh.  Hell no."  All the reviews I'd read online and ignored were right.  It was a two star hotel.  I changed into some warm weather clothes and took a taxi to the National Hotel which I knew had WiFi because some of the other athletes had posted.  Not only were they fully booked, the business center which sells the WiFi cards was closed.  I tried to make change at the change counter but was told it was for guests only.  I took a cab back to my hotel and nearly lost it and broke down.

Completely disconnected.  Alone.  Exhausted.  A stranger in a strange land.

Cuba Bound

It's just after 4am and I'm sitting at my gate at DIA for a 5:30 departure.  The dichotomy of where I am and where I'm going is pronounced: It snowed 4 inches last night and is currently 14 degrees outside.  Daily temps in Havana for this time of year are in the mid 80s - though it does cool off to the mid 60s at night.

I peruse Facebook posts from the athletes who left yesterday and briefly chat with another who leaves today.  It seems everyone is getting in earlier than myself as I don't land until 7pm.  A thought enters my head that I haven't seen any posts from anyone since they left and wonder as to the Internet situation there.  I'm not even sure yet if my hotel has wifi.

While this trip is about making history and helping the future of the sport of triathlon in Cuba, I can't help feeling like I'm going back in time.  The embargo went into effect nearly 15 years before I was even born and the recent pictures I can find online show a country that in 2015, still looks like something out of the 50's with the classic cars.

The reality of what I am embarking on finally starts to set in and I am both very nervous and excited.  Few people can say they've truly represented the United States in anything, but the small size of this group (25) and the destination makes this feel even more important than the Olympics - except that no one is watching.

Boulder Peak Triathlon Race Report

About 12 days ago my body said enough and I hit a wall training-wise.  Fatigue, lack of power, and general disinterest took its toll and without taking too drastic measures my coach scaled back my training and by the end of last week I was tired, but felt recovered to have a good race.  I wasn't.

I was chatting with a pro triathlete at Master's swimming last Wednesday and he remarked that he didn't know how we age groupers did it.  Working full-time with kids and training 10 hours a week.  That was good to hear.

My pre-race went by-the-book and my swim warmup was good and I felt good.  I realized that I'd forgotten to take my GU chomps but got them in first thing on the bike.  I lined up at the front of the swim next to Steve Johnson and Eric Kenney, two VERY fast guys.  Eric asked me if I was going out hard.  I said yes.  He asked "20 minutes?"  "Probably 23," I said, "I'm finding Steve's feet and hanging on."  Eric followed with he needed 10 minutes to stay with Steve.  I said I needed 20.  Eric beat me out of the water by a little over a minute and I over Steve by around the same amount.  Of course, both then proceeded to crush me on the bike and run.

T1 was fast.  This was the first race where I left my bike shoes clipped in and while it was weird getting my feet in my shoes and closing the velcro, everything was fine.  Even with the shoes being a little lose and my feet having sand still on them, after a few minutes I didn't even notice.  Climbing out of the res on 51st and then on Jay was fine, but I should have realized something was up during the long, false flat up to the 36/Broadway merge.  My power was only slightly low, but I couldn't generate it in my aero bars - which was not normal.  By the time I hit the flats on 36 before and after Neva I was riding in my aero bars, but my power was off.  By the end of the bike, my average power was in the low 190s and it should have been between 210 and 220.  As a result, my projected bike time was way off.  I easily lost 5 minutes.

T2 was fast.  I remembered to roll my socks beforehand so I could just unroll them onto my feet (next season, I'm going to start training again without socks.  It's free speed and they're completely unnecessary).  Heading out onto the run, I realized I forgot my Garmin on my bike and had to race by feel.  I held back going out and felt ok until around mile 1 when I noticed the fatigue started setting in.  I didn't have to gut through anything just yet, I just kept running.  No stopping at the aid stations, but grabbing water to hydrate and douse to cool off.  By the time I hit mile 4, I was wiped and was struggling to just stay running.  At one point I had to stop and walk for a minute but forced myself to start jogging again.  At some point past mile 3 after the turnaround, my teammate Jeremy passed me still on his way out.  My first thought was that he was going to catch me and my second was that I really didn't care.  He caught me between miles 5 and 6 and later said that I wasn't looking great by then.  I'm sure.  I was able to pick it up a little the last half to 3/4 of a mile, but it was all I could do to get to the finish.  One positive was that while the run was hot, it didn't really bother me much.  I need to be better about dumping water on my front and and not just the top of my head and down my back.

Thanks to my coach Billy Edwards, my team Foxtrot Wheel & Edge, my teammates, my sponsor GU Energy, Colorado Multisport, and my wife for the support.

Race Results:

165th overall (149th out of 557 men, 948 total athletes, including relays)
32nd out of 98 in age group
Swim (1500m):  21:59 (3rd fastest in AG, and 21st fastest overall)
T1: 1:37
Bike (26 mi): 1:13:23 (37th in AG)
T2: 1:09
Run (10km):  53:16

Total:  2:31:25

Loveland Lake-to-Lake Triathlon Race Report

Two things were clear after the Boulder Sprint Triathlon:  first, my running needed work, and second, so did my taper.  To be clear, the latter was more a result of a week of poor sleep leading up to the race than training too much.  To mitigate the first, I had my coach, Billy start giving me structured running workouts.  Read more about that here.  In reality, it's too far into the season to expect awesome results from the running but I had to try.  My run workouts had been going well (arguably at the expense of my bike).

We adjusted my taper accordingly and I made damn sure I was in bed as early as is possible every night with two young kids.  As a result, I went in feeling fairly fresh.

The race was an hour from my house and a wave start time of 6:30am meant getting up at 3:30.  I don't remember what time I got there but I was definitely one of the first few competitors and got a really good rack spot right by the bike-in/out.  Set up was uneventful and with the several bathroom breaks I didn't have to worry about what to do with my time.  With about 50 minutes until go time, I got the bottom half of my wetsuit on and walked the 1/4-mile to the swim start.  (Yes, 1/4-mile.  Which meant after coming out of the water, there was going to be a nice run to get to T1.)

I got the rest of my wetsuit on and started warming up.  I felt awesome and fast.  I knew I was going to have a good day.  This was also the first time I was going to wear a watch in the race so I could get power data on the bike.  But rather than just keep it on the bike, I wore it the whole race.  This can be a mixed blessing because it's easy to get in one's head if you're not hitting your numbers.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone over the course maps because I realized about a minute before the start that I had the wrong swim course plotted.  Thankfully the elites were paying attention and I got behind them at the start with about a minute to spare.  We got a 10-second countdown (which was nice as usually there's a 30-second warning and then a horn).  Right away I found some fast feet and for the first time since I raced Vineman 70.3 in 2008 I had feet the whole way.  One take away from the swim is that I need to be a lot better at sighting when I'm following in case the person I'm following leads me astray.  I had this thought at some point during the swim and tried to be good about looking for the buoys but I wasn't as good as I should have been.  The second turn on the swim had us swimming directly into the sun and I couldn't see shit.  I just trusted the guy in front of me could and wasn't going to lead me astray.  He didn't, but it was still really unnerving.

I don't recall knowing where I was position wise until I got out on the bike with the two lead elite women and looked at my watch.  I knew then that'd I'd really rocked the swim.  The bike course is hard and it bites right away with uphill rollers heading west out of T1.  With some short downhill recovery, it's basically a climb all the way to Horsetooth Reservoir.  Eventually the lead female started pulling away but I passed and dropped the second place female in the first five miles.  I'd never been this close to the front of a race before and it was really weird only seeing one or two other riders.  At some point I realized that to this point, only three other riders had passed me to this point and I was feeling really good.  I crested the first major climb about half way through the bike and ripped down the descent knowing the next climb was a lot shorter before the long, screaming descent into Ft. Collins.  About 200m from the top, I felt my back tire get a little squishy and realized that the worst thing that could have happened (short of an accident) had happened and I got a flat.  I had put tire sealant in the tubular but my guess is that it didn't kick in until too much air had escaped rendering it essentially useless.  I probably should have tried to refill it to see if it would hold air but wasn't thinking straight and all I could think about was getting the tire off and switching it out.  Instead of using glue, I used Tufo tape to adhere the tire to the rim.  And it's tacky.  REALLY tacky.  I couldn't get the tire off even though I'd left a several inch gap with no tape opposite the valve stem.  It felt like it took forever to change but in reality it was like 6 minutes.  But during that time, all the riders I'd been ahead of were passing me.  I was pissed and any semblance of a race plan went out the window (as indicated by my wattage from that point on as it was all over the map) and I stupidly tried to make up for lost time.  I even yelled at a guy to stop drafting (he wasn't).  The last stretch from Ft. Collins back to Loveland is on S. Taft a very straight stretch of road but it's very exposed and has massive rollers (which doesn't help with trying to maintain a consistent wattage).

The rest of the bike was fine but I was a mental wreck.  I flew into and out of T2 and ran the first mile faster than I should have and finally my body was like "enough" and I struggled through the rest of the run even having to resort to walking a few aid stations on the way back - something I NEVER do.  I was just holding on when I crossed the finish line.

My biggest takeaways were that my taper and recovery were spot on and I need to be able to deal with shit that happens during a race.  Pro triathlete Ben Hoffman raced Ironman Coeur d'Alene on Sunday and flatted twice on the bike.  He could have said "fuck it" and quit or coasted the rest of the way.  But, despite losing 15 minutes on the bike, he ripped off a 2:43 marathon and ran his way to 3rd.  That's how you deal with mental issues.  I got lucky, as I only lost one place due to the flat and the bike course was really hard - which is a great equalizer.  Also, I wonder if my run would have been better.

Thanks to my coach Billy Edwards, my team Foxtrot Wheel & Edge, my teammates, my sponsor GU Energy, Colorado Multisport, and my wife for the support.

Race Results:

79th overall, 58th male (185 men total, 338 total athletes)
7th out of 28 in age group w/ flat (6th w/o)
Swim (1500m):  23:57, 2nd fastest in AG and 14th fastest overall
T1: 1:06
Bike (30 mi): 1:35:49 w/ flat (1:29:06 w/o, 7th fastest in AG)
T2: 1:08
Run (10km):  53:38, 18th in AG

Total:  2:55:40 w/flat (2:48:57 w/o)

Structured Running

After mediocre runs at the Summer Open and the Boulder Sprint Triathlon, I had my coach, Billy start giving me structured running workouts along with the cycling he was already doing.  Apparently all the lovely base mile running I'd been doing was great for base, not so great for endurance at speed.

Unfortunately, at this point in the season, it was basically too late to expect my body to be able to respond to the training during a race.  (Well, I could expect it, it just wasn't going to happen).  As my coach said, he's not a miracle worker.  There were 3.5 weeks between the Boulder Sprint and Loveland and I did the best I could.

He basically added the equivalent of a long, sub-LT run early in the week, a tempo run (or tempo intervals) in the middle of the week, and a track/interval workout at the end of the week.  I say the equivalent of a long run because with the two knee surgeries, I wanted to be careful of my weekly mileage.

The first week was fantastic in all areas of my training.  My runs and rides were awesome and I was putting up good numbers on the run.  Then week two happened.  My runs were still great, but my riding fell off a cliff.  I had trouble getting any type of power and couldn't hit my numbers.  And I wasn't even close.  Turns out, as Billy put it, I took a full bite of the workouts and we didn't adjust anything to compensate.  As a result my Acute Training Load (ATL) shot way up and instead of being in the mid 80s, they were in the high 90s and low 100s.  As with the other metrics in the performance management chart, the ATL is based on the Training Stress Score (TSS), a number assigned to each workout.  The more intense a workout, the higher the TSS.  A high TSS can also be achieved by doing a less intense workout for a lot longer.  For baseline purposes, a TSS of 100 is performing at 100% effort for an hour.

What was happening was that the more intense workouts were generating a higher daily TSS and thus, a higher ATL.  My inability to hit my wattage numbers on the bike was simply my body saying that it wasn't able to produce the efforts dictated by my workouts - and thus, we should have adjust the workouts to compensate.  But we didn't.

Thankfully, and hopefully this trend continues, within the last week, it appears my body is beginning to adapt.  That said, it's far too late in my season to expect anything more than average results.  Next season, however, my expectations will be quite a bit higher as I will start the structured training program much earlier on.

Garmin Edge 510 Review

First a caveat:  I'm a triathlete.  My review is solely from the point-of-view of a triathlete who's used the Garmin 910XT exclusively for nearly two years.  It may be that none of the cool features or issues I've experienced apply to you.  My motivation for getting the Garmin Edge 510 was the larger screen and thus, the ability to view more data points at one glance rather than having to scroll like I have to do with my 910.  Many of the other selling points (color screen, Bluetooth, touchscreen, live tracking, real time weather, etc...) don't really do it for me.  Sure, the live tracking is cool, but unless I'm racing, I don't need the entire Internet knowing, within 10ft, where I am on the planet.  Part of the draw of training is completely disconnecting from the world, not becoming MORE connected.

Setting up the device was a mixed bag:  the large screen is great, but the touchscreen is kludgy and doesn't always recognize intentional finger presses.  As someone who does full stack Java development and UI development, the UI is pretty bad.  It's not polished and it looks terrible.  It's functional, but it's SO basic it feels like it was designed by a kid in elementary school.  That said, it's mostly obvious what each item does when selecting and adding all my bikes was pretty painless.  With the exception of heart rate, pairing all your ANT+ transmitters (speed/cadence, power, etc...) is done at once and on a per bike basis.  If you aren't using Bluetooth, just a tip to disable it as it'll only help in draining your battery and I've had many friends who've left it on in transition in races and it's gotten confused with all the other electronics present that it doesn't record anything (or if it does, it did so sporadically).  I believe, however, Bluetooth is required for the live-tracking feature and for wirelessly downloading your data to Garmin Connect.

Setting up the data fields in my screens was a snap and like my 910, there's gobs of data points for those statistically inclined.  I use seven fields on my ride (in no particular order):  lap time, lap power, 3s power, lap speed, lap distance, lap cadence, and lap heart rate.  The data is displayed in five rows and as more fields are added the number of rows increases until five are displayed.  When less than five rows are displayed, the rows (and thus the data text) become larger.  This is a nice feature for those folks who might be visually impaired.  To switch screens during a ride, simply tap the screen and select either the left or right arrow that displays at the bottom of the screen.  I'm used to buttons for everything so the fact that the navigation buttons are rendered is a bit odd.  There's plenty of room on the device for more buttons but it's like Garmin was going for a minimalistic design.  The lap and start/stop buttons, however, are actual buttons.

Prior to riding a quick spin of one's pedals is enough to wake up your ANT+ devices and the Garmin will tell you what it's found.  One really annoying thing is that it will not prompt you to calibrate your power meter.  You should ALWAYS do this before a ride to ensure consistent and accurate readings and the 910 does prompt you, but for whatever reason, they didn't make the 510 do this.  Instead, the calibrate feature is buried under your current bike profile and is accessible by tapping on the dumbbell icon.  This icon is only present and clickable if a power meter is currently paired and connected.  I found that calibrating a PowerTap hub is significantly faster (at most a couple of seconds) than doing the same for my Stages power meter which has taken up to 15 seconds.  If you start moving and neglect to press start, the 510 will helpfully tell you that motion has been detected and tell you how to start your data gathering.

I have the 510 mounted on my stem which I'm sure is what Garmin has intended.  Unfortunately, I ride a tri bike and instead of my head being higher up and a lot further back like on a road bike, it's low and forward.  This makes reading the screen a little more challenging and if you have a positively angled stem, you might find reading it impossible.  Mounting on your aero bars is a possibility, but the unit is so big it not only looks ridiculous, your forearm will touch it when riding aero and I don't know about you, but I don't like any distractions when working out or racing and this is a huge distraction.  The other major issue with the stem mounting location on a tri bike is that it's so strategically placed that when riding in the aero position, sweat droplets come off my head and fall directly on the large screen of the 510.  Thanks to surface tension and friction, the droplets just sit there making it hard to read.  Wiping them off is actually worse because not only does it smear and dry with opaque, white, salt streaks, now the touchscreen has, for some reason, become super sensitive and all that touching makes the 510 more than obliged to pop up menus and options over the top of your data fields.  I've ordered a 510-specific Zagg screen protector for it and will try putting some RainX on the Zagg to see if that helps act as a sweat repellant.  I've also ordered a silicone case for the 510 just in case I drop it.  The screen is large and all it has to do is fall face down on uneven ground to get a nice scratch or crack.  And you just know Murphy's Law dictates that it WILL land screen side down if you do drop it.

Don't do this, it goes on your bike

After your ride, hitting stop won't automatically save your workout.  You are prompted to either discard or save it.  This is another change from the 910 and I think is completely unnecessary.  Just save the data, and let the user delete it after they sync.  I've not tried the wireless synching because it requires Bluetooth and a smartphone app.  It does work with Garmin Express, but you have to use the USB cable because the device cannot, apparently, transmit via ANT+ to Garmin Express.  You have to turn the device on before connecting the USB cable or it will think you just want to charge the unit and won't turn on, even if you press the power button.  I am very happy to report that it works great with the Training Peaks Device Agent and works just like my 910 - even better actually since the software hasn't yet been updated to reflect the new file storage location for Garmin Express with the 910.  I should note that the .FIT files Garmin creates for your 510 workouts remain on your device and ARE NOT transferred to your hard drive when synching.  If you want a backup of your data separate from Garmin Connect (or Training Peaks, ...) the 510 mounts like a USB PIN drive and you can see the data in your OS' normal means of browsing an attached drive.  In fact, this is from where the Training Peaks Device Agent pulls your workout data.

Bottom line, as a whole I'm not thrilled with the device.  It's certainly not meant for triathletes and as a whole is just a poor user experience with a kludgy UI and ornery touchscreen.  That said, the most important feature for me was the large screen and easy viewing of my data points and if I can solve my sweat droplet problems, it's good enough for me.  I will say that I'm quite curious to try it out on my road bike to see if some of the annoyances will either go away or become less.

2014 Boulder Sprint Triathlon Race Report

This was my second race in as many weeks.  For as rested and mentally/physically ready as I was for the 2014 Summer Open Triathlon, I wasn't for this race.  I was tired the entire week and instead of altering the taper I did for the Summer Open, I stayed with what had worked previously and it didn't.

I slept well the week leading up to the Summer Open, including race night, but not this past week and slept like crap Saturday night.  But I shook it all off when I woke up and went through my normal pre race routine.

I got to the Boulder Reservoir early enough to get a decent parking spot for both my car and my bike.  Setup was quick and I headed back to my car to relax.  I didn't want to do a run warmup because for the Summer Open it made it harder to get on my wetsuit.  I don't know what the water temperature was but it was far, far warmer than the Summer Open's 54º.  My warmup felt good and I relaxed in the water until it was time to line up.

At the swim start, I somehow found myself next to the winner of the Summer Open and some of his buddies.  After the start of the race, I knew in the first 100 meters it wasn't going to be a good day.  I felt like I had no power and was working way too hard.  Thankfully, I found some fast feet in the next hundred meters or I'm not sure I'd have finished the swim.  I followed the feet until the swim finish and realized it was the the same guy.

Coming out of the water and doing that run up the beach into T1, it's impossible to keep your HR down and I'm sure it was higher than it should have been.  While my transition was pretty smooth, it turned out to be a lot longer than it should have been.  Transition time is the easiest place to make up time, don't fuck it up.  I don't know specifically what I did, but I fucked it up.

I'd ridden part of the course Saturday morning to remember what it was like to ride the first five miles uphill.  To my dismay, the shoulder was in bad shape from the torrential rains we'd had the days before.  Thankfully, 51st St. was coned off such that we were effectively riding in the middle of the road so the gravel wasn't an issue.

As mine was the third wave, I started passing people immediately and continued to do so until Neva Rd.  The cluster of riders was so bad, they were riding two abreast.  To make things even more interesting, a USAT referee came up behind me on a motor bike and decided to ride just in front of me.  I don't know if he/she was dishing out penalties or what, but I kept having to leapfrog the motor bike until the turn onto Neva when they finally went ahead far enough I didn't feel like I was drafting.  I played leap frog with another guy from my age group and probably could have received a penalty for not watching my spacing but this guy would pass me and then slow down - which was kind of annoying.

We did this for the entire bike and he entered T2 a few hundred meters in front of me (but I wound up passing him on the run, at least initially).  T2 was a lot smoother and faster than T1 and I was out in just under a minute.  By this time it was getting hot and I was beginning to feel the heat.  I grabbed water coming out of T1 but the next aid station wasn't for a ways and while I was passing people on the run,  I could feel my body not adapting.  About a quarter mile after the turn around, people I'd passed on the way out started passing me, including the guy in my age group I was leap frogging on the bike.  I saw at least three people in my age group pass me.  I don't remember the wheels coming off or slowing down.  I just remember willing myself to the finish and knowing I was completely spent after crossing the finish line.

Overall, I PR'd by nearly a minute over my previous race on this course with most of the time coming, ironically, on the swim.  The PR aside, it was not a good race, but any race in which lessons can be learned is a race unwasted.

Thanks to my coach Billy Edwards, my team Foxtrot Wheel & Edge, my teammates, my sponsor GU Energy, Colorado Multisport, and my wife for the support.

Race Results:

47th overall, 44th male (296 men total, 474 total athletes)
12th out of 46 in age group
Swim (750m):  11:29, 26th fastest time
T1: 1:51
Bike (17.2 mi): 44:35, 32nd fastest time
T2: 0:59
Run (5km):  23:41, 132nd fastest time

Total:  1:22:35