I hit the snooze once and was out of bed before the alarm went off again. It was good that I had set a time to meet Connie. I'm always better about getting up if I have to meet someone. Connie wanted to get to transition early so we could get a good parking place. A good parking place meant an easy exit after the race.
As I was gathering, my stuff I noticed that Connie was already packing up the car. We managed to get the screen out of my window so I could hand her my bags. I did one more look around the room, grabbed my bike and headed out the door.
While Connie loaded my bike I went in her room to grab a box of tissues - never know when those will come in handy. I should've been eating my breakfast and drinking my coffee, but I couldn't keep still long enough. We drove the very short drive to the race, and found parking right across from the transition area.
Pre-race nerves were getting the best of me. I kept dropping things. I managed to spill coffee on Connie's car. It was also dark and cold. I just kept trying to breathe and calm myself. There was nothing left to do except get transition set up and race.
I finished my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and headed across the street to transition. Part of my problem was I hadn't had enough time to take my bike out for a ride, yet. So, I had to do it this morning. It was hard to see, because it was still dark. So we had some minor trouble finding our spots. It turned out that the bike racks were set up with number ranges, so Connie and I could be right next to each other. It is good to have Connie there. She did a good job keeping me calm.
I claimed my spot and then headed out for a short ride. I needed to make sure my gears were in good working order after seeing that hill section. Happily, everything was fine. It was chilly, but warmer than they had called for originally.
Knowing that my bike was fine, settled me a bit. Connie's friend Melissa found her. She had arrived this morning to cheer her on and take pictures. I further distraction, which I needed. I ate most of my banana and tried to finish my milk, but I gave up as the clock kept ticking away. I walked around transition to make sure I knew where all the entrances and exits were, and where my bike was in relation to them.
After I was certain I knew where I was going, I found Connie and Melissa and we headed toward the swim start. We wanted to use the really bathrooms that was available to us by some boat/social club. What you can't see in that photo is the moon behind us and the gorgeous sunrise in front of us. If nothing else, it is a beautiful place to have a triathlon.
We made it to the changing rooms before the main pack of people. We actually had to search around a bit. We wriggled into our wetsuits, and went for a warm up swim. Well, this was it. Nothing to do now, but remember to enjoy as much of it as I can.
Rick and Dick Hoyt were the first to start. There was one other group before us, and then it was our turn. Off we went. Timed my entry to a small wave, and headed for the first buoy. I have yet to get used to being in the middle of the crowd at the start of the swim. It pushes my heart rate higher and higher still because I'm working hard to find some space. There is also that start of race rush that pushes me a little harder than I would normally swim. I just needed to get around the buoy, and I'd have some more space.
The buoys across were guidelines, so I was able to shift my position to where I was more comfortable. I was having a hard time sighting, and it took me a little while to realize that I was being pushed away from shore. I started to us the line of people of surfboards as a gauge to how far I had been pushed out. I kept having to correct inland. I'm usually really good about sighting. It about halfway through the cross section for me to find a landmark, and then I finally settled in to a rhythm.
Turned the final buoy and swam diagonally toward the finish. Now the current was really working against us. Then I hit the break line. I was glad I had thought about it as I was tuning toward shore. I did my best to time my exit, and caught an excellent wave. I went shooting forward - bless this wetsuit. I glided in got to my feet with a great big laugh and said, "Can we do it again?"
That a very strange look from one man, and a chuckle from another. That was probably my most graceful exit from a swim. I saw Melissa on my way up to transition. It was was the first time I had a T1 under 4 mins with a wetsuit on. Off on my bike for 56 miles, and clock was ticking for when Connie would catch me. I'm the better swimmer. She's the better cyclist. I knew she would catch me it was only a question of when. This made it a little fun, and gave me a distraction.
It started with an out and back, then some local streets and up and out on Rte 1. I made sure to get fluids and food in during this section, because I knew I wouldn't get much in on the hills - drink - yes, food - no. And there was a bottle exchange in the hill section, so I would need to discard my empty water bottle and get another.
I felt good. I was trying not to push it, but we had a pretty good tailwind. It was really weird riding on a major roadway. Cars where just zipping by, as were a lot of cyclists. Made my right turn into the hills. The thing about these hills, wasn't that any of them were particularly hard, they just didn't stop. There was a downhill section where the road was pretty crappy. You climbed back up the road leveled off to a small incline, and there was the bottle exchange.
Did I mention I had never done one before? I knew I had to, so worst case I would get off and grab some water. But I was determined to do this. I aimed for the first guy, because if I missed him there were two other tries before I had to stop. I trashed my empty water bottle, yelled for water, and focused. He held out water. I fumbled for it, but managed to grab it. I swerved a little and nearly took out the lady standing behind him.
"I'm sorry it's my first time doing that."
"That's OK. You're doing great!" He laughed. The finally woman offered me a banana, but I smile and shook my head no. It was definitely not graceful, but I did it. It gave me a little boost, and off I went on the one section of newly paved road. At this point the route swings you around to come back the way you came.
On my way out, I saw Rick and Dick Hoyt coming up the hill. I gave them a great big cheer and headed downhill amazed that Dick was able to pull/carry/push both of them through so many races.
Once through with the hill section, it the remainder of the out and back. I finally hit the turn around and the final bottle exchange. I had decided to finish my GU2O/CarboPro drink by this exchange so that I could have a break from drinking sports drinks. They become really sweet to me as the race goes on. I grabbed another bottle of water, and continued on.
This is where my nemesis came out to meet me. You see when you have a tailwind on the out portion of an out and back, it means the back has a head wind. But see I didn't think of this because the wind would shift a little and hit you from the front on the way out. And I was concentrating on the hills.
If I'm not prepared for a headwind it really does me in mentally. The first time I did St Anthony's I nearly cracked on the bike because of the headwind. I actually yelled at the wind to stop. It didn't work and fortunately there was no one around at the time. The second time I did St A's, I was fine because I knew.
So, here I am over halfway through the bike, and pretty much alone. The wind gusts a pretty strong that I'm having a hard time choosing when to eat and drink. Even though the course is mainly rolling hills, there is a definite uphill feel to this part. And there is nothing for me to break it up with - no hill section.
To add to the headwind, I was getting cold and my butt was started to hurt. By mile 40, I was getting shooting pain down my right leg that I couldn't stretch out, and I was cold. I didn't listen to myself, and decided to not to buy arm warmer or extra cushion for my relatively new seat. There were to many variables, so by mile 45 I started to cry. Then I started to sob.
I kept talking to myself. Kept fighting the urge to pull over. The main thing that kept my on my bike, which had become a device of torture, was I didn't want to walk to transition. I wasn't thinking clearly. I should've just gotten off my bike and stretched for a minute, and then got back on. I was worried that if I got off, then I would never get back on.
I'm not really certain how I managed to continue, but I did. Every time there was a volunteer or race official, I'd pull myself together just long enough and then start sobbing again. I hit the 50 mile mark, and could see the exit. I just focused on getting to that exit. The sobbing had stopped just in time for Connie to go shooting past me up the exit ramp.
This helped. I suddenly wasn't alone, and near the finish. "I thought I would've caught you earlier." She said on her way by. That made me laugh, and I got my head together. The last miles couldn't have felt longer. I stopped my bike and the dismount line. I tried to swing my leg over, but nearly fell over. I stood there feeling pretty pathetic. I thought to myself, "Just take a minute. It won't matter."
Finally, I was able to get off the bike and into transition. Connie was still there. She asked me how I was and I told her that I was hurting.
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
"Here try this...." I just waved her off. I knew she was trying to help but my brain was still trying to work through the pain. She told me that she would leave it there, and that I could use anything she had. Off she went.
I sat down to put on my shoes. No need to rush through it. I did a few stretches, and took and deep breath. I grabbed a water bottle from my bike and an extra Gu, and walked to and out the exit. Never in my life have I been as glad to run as I did then.
I started an easy jog, and reminded myself that I had 13.1 miles to go. My main goal was to not stop, but if I were to stop it had to be after mile 6. I think I was just really pleased to be pleased that I was running.
A 53 year old woman ran past me and said, "This is hard, but child birth is harder." I laughed, and then internally scratched my head in wonder. I'm not really certain what brought on that comment. I hadn't said anything to her, but maybe it was her was of being encouraging. Anyway it distracted me while running up a small hill.
I caught up with Connie on a little side street. She was looking good. We chatted a bit, and then I went on ahead. The weather was beautiful, and I was feeling much better. The volunteers were great, and there was tons of water, Heed and Hammer Gels.
Having planned to carry my own nutrition, I kept sipping water and the GU2O/CarboPro I had on my fuel belt. I also had plenty of Gu. I kept moving, because I was certain I would eventually have to stop. But mainly I was enjoying feeling so strong, like I might just be able to run, without stopping, 13.1 miles.
The run course lead you through residential streets. On one there were so many children with boxes Hammer gels. They were on foot, on skate boards, and bikes. "I've got banana."
"I've got coffee."
"Chocolate?"
I felt badly turning them all down, but I had never tried the Hammer gels or Heed. I didn't want to risk it. I just kept going. I slowed down at one point to see if another runner was OK. She said that she was fine, but had a headache. I asked her if she wanted some water. She took a few sips from my water bottle and said she'd get some more from the next stop.
Saw Connie again at some point. The course was laid out as a bunch of out and backs. So I got to see most everyone I knew. I was running up the hill I had come down earlier. There were two teenage girls situated at the turn in the road. The were in beach chairs and listening to a "boombox." I don't recall what they were listening to on the way down, because I was talking with the woman who had the headache.
But as I was reaching the top of the hill, I heard "Sweet Home Alabama." It struck me as very weird, but I enjoyed it just the same. Out of one neighborhood and into another. Down another hill, this one much longer and steeper, and out to who knows where.
It was at this point that I realized several things. It was getting hot, and I hadn't put more sunscreen in T2. I was very glad that I still had my extra water bottle. I wasn't eating like I should have been. Finally, my legs were starting to hurt, especially the right one. It was the one that was killing me on the bike.
I was at mile 7.5ish, so I decided that it was OK to stop, stretch and walk a little. The rest of the run was a run/walk. When I hit the final turn around, very near mile 9, I thanked the woman with the checklist for actually being there. I wasn't really sure why it meant so much to me, but it did.
There were very few people left on the course at this point. I would pass somebody walking, and they would pass me. The people at the water stops were nice enough to fill my water bottle up, not that it mattered at this point. The final hill was between mile 10 and 11. I walked up it. I tried to run the final few miles, but I kept having to walk. It felt good to take long strides during my walk.
I turned back onto the road that lead to transition. As I was running down, triathletes in their cars would cheer me on as they went by. You would think that I would hate that, but it just made me smile and think that maybe one it'll be me. Stopping was near, and boy I couldn't wait.
I ran the last mile. The whole time I was preparing myself for the 1/4 mile run in the sand. It's gonna hurt, but then it'll be over. There was a group of volunteers waiting at the turn to go out to the beach. One of them ran with me to explain that the plastic walkway was wobbly, so be careful. I asked if I could leave my water bottle with him.
He smiled, "Of course. Congratulations. You did it."
Maybe a little early, but he was right. I had made it. I stepped out on the plastic walkway, and nearly lost my footing. I didn't want to get off of it though because it was still easier than the sand would be. Finally I hit the sand. I didn't think I could run any slower. There were families lined up along the way to the finish, having a day at the beach and oh yeah look at the crazy triathlete going by let's cheer her on.
I just kept moving. I wasn't going to stop at this point. Then I could see the finish. I heard the announcer call my name and say "That's how you do it guys. You just keep putting on foot in front of the other." How true. And then there was my Dad right at the exit from the beach. "Don't stop or you'll cry. You can hug him later."
The funny thing was that all I could think of, in those secs from when I saw him to the finish line, was the mint tea that M-J had brought for me. She had told me she would, and if it wasn't the tea it would be something other than sports drink or water.
The finishing corral had a u-turn, so no point to try and sprint. I crossed the line. I was finished. WOW. 7 hours 19 minutes and 50 seconds. 5th out of 10 Athenas. Connie wasn't too far behind me. We spent some time chatting with others, but very soon we were in our cars on our way home.
Things I learned:
Don't change your bike fit 3 and 1/2 weeks before a race.
Listen to your instincts - my arms would have been warm and my butt less sore on the bike.
For an out of town race, it is worth to get there two days before the race.
Sunblock no matter what the weather - it took forever for the numbers to disappear off of my legs and arms
I like the 1/2 Ironman distance.
Well fitting wetsuits are a dream.
Need more work on my pacing and bike handling.
No comments:
Post a Comment