Race Report: Mudwater '09

I consider this race to be vindication for last weekend's missed opportunities. Could not have asked for better weather, better atmosphere, or a better performance from myself.

Pre-race

Since my parents missed church last week, I was on my own for this week's festivities. I prepped everything (including breakfast) solo, the house dark. The advantage? I got out at exactly the time I wanted to leave.

Breakfast was peanut butter and toast, by the way.

I got to the lake while it was still mostly dark, just as it should be. There were only a couple dozen people there (not including volunteers), at that point, so I had my pick of parking. Early arrival was a great advantage because there were no assigned rack spaces, so I got my pick of bike racks, too. I chose a spot that was farthest from the swim out, with a straight shot to the bike out.

I went through the normal pre-race rituals--packet pick-up, setting up transition, easy warm-up jog--and by the time I'd gotten through all that, transition was filling up. Mudwater is a great race for locals. There are a few competitors who come from Oklahoma or Missouri, but most live in or around Wichita. This race is in its third year, the field has been limited to 250 participants, and it is really becoming our race. Which is an amazing thing to behold.

First-timers represented about 40% of the field, between the tri and du, and two of those first-timers were my clients! I also met a reader (first time that's ever happened) who was doing her first tri; good work, Stacy (and did I spell that right?)! I cannot put into words my pride at convincing people to do this crazy sport. Always amazes me.

My own feelings leading up to the starting gun (a shotgun, by the way) were of excitement. No nervousness. The brooding energy that I had stored up for a week due to the inclement weather at last week's event was finally harnessed, concentrated. I felt wound up like a slinky at the top of the stairs; just tip me over and away I go!

Swim: 750 m, 14:23 (1:55/100 m); 13/51 F overall
Last year: 15:36
Weather could not have been better. Water temperature was 84 degrees, which is a little warm. But I had no problems with overheating. Last year, we had a beach start; this year, we started in the water. At the shotgun, I dove right in (I'd made sure I was deep enough that I wouldn't have to run or dolphin dive before I started swimming). I tried to surge, tried to get myself out of the anticipated mass of humanity. But after taking several strokes and turning my head to breathe, and beheld (to my amazement) a whole crowd of women who were walking (not running!) through the water. What the hell?! Dive, ladies, dive!

Needless to say, I had clear water for the first part of the swim. I was, however, able to jump on the heels of a few women who were just enough faster than me to be of benefit. I lost them once we caught up to the few stragglers from the wave before us. I felt fast and strong throughout the swim. I gave just enough energy to maximize my time in the water without spending too much energy and suffering later. I dolphin dove to the shore (pretty sure I'm the only one at this race who does that; when I was coming out there were still people walking in to the shallows) and sprinted up the slight incline to transition. In my mind, I was a famous ITU athlete, tall and athletic and strong.

T1: 47 sec; 3/51 F overall
Last year: 35 seconds

Bike: 25 km, 44:53 (20.8 MPH); 6/51 F overall
Last year: 20 km, 38:24 (19.4 MPH)
It wasn't until the beginning of last week that I realized the bike was 25k, not 20k, like I'd expected. But what difference does an extra 5 km make, right?

Coming out of the park was a blast; I sailed past a few of the men, scrambling to get my feet into my shoes. I took the sharp left-hand turn out of the park like a pro--butt to the side, low over the handle bars, upper body relaxed. Right out of the driveway, there's a slight hill (very slight; remember where we are, after all). I powered up it like it wasn't even there. About 5 km into the bike ride, another woman crept by me. As she passed me, I noticed the age on the back of her leg. 47. "No way!" I thought to myself. Not that I don't think a 47-year-old woman should be able to pass me; it's just that I wasn't going to let it happen on that day. I motored by her at the next downhill and spent the rest of the bike course keeping my foot on the figurative accelerator, just daring her to try to pass me again.

I wasn't passed by another woman the whole time.

Like I said before--the weather was perfect. On back side of the bike, we had a little bit of east wind, and I saw my speed drop significantly (no more average speeds in the mid-20s!). It was frustrating, and I was hurting a little bit. I definitely felt like I lost steam on the second half of the bike. I spent a lot of time worrying that I was putting too much into my second leg, and wouldn't have enough energy left to have the kind of run I knew I could put in this year. My calves and hamstrings were tight and cranky, and I've discovered that the bike is both my strength and my weakness--I can put a lot of time into the competition when on two wheels, but I sometimes push too hard and pay the price on the run.

Turning back into the park (a little less than a mile from T2), I dropped gears and started spinning my legs out. Got my feet out of my shoes and had some of the men pass me, but knew that I would re-gain that time in transition.

T2: 30 sec; 6/51 F overall
Last year: 49 sec
Nailed the flying dismount like a pro, but then had so much speed that I overshot my rack space by a few feet and had to run back towards it. Still, pretty damn fast, don't you think?

Run: 5 km, 26:24 (8:29/mile); 22/51 F overall
Last year: 31:05
This was the highlight of the race. Not because I'm super fast, mind you; this is my weakest leg, relative to the rest of the women's field. But because it's just so much better than last year. That's a minute and a half faster per mile than what I was doing last year. I am totally happy with and excited about the progress I've made this year in the run. My biking and swimming times are better, but not that much better than last year's. But my run? My run has improved in leaps and bounds.

My one point of contention with myself came in the last quarter mile or so. I was within sight of the finish line, and a big clydesdale came clomping past me. He works out at my gym; I see him around all the time. He was at IMKS. He was running just a little bit faster than me. I tucked in behind him, his huge frame in the foreground, the finish line behind. I stayed with him for maybe 50 yards, and then he started to pull away. And I decided that it hurt too bad, he was too fast, and I let him go.

I shouldn't have let him go. I could have kept that speed for another 300-400 m. I could do anything for another 300-400 m. It's only a few minutes in time. I can suffer for a few minutes in time. So looking back, that's my one disappointment. I should have followed him in to the finish instead of letting him go.

But other than that, I thought I was very willing and able to accept the pain that should come in a sprint tri. I determined early in the bike that I would go to that place of intensity and focus, and felt like I was actually able to do it this time.

The best part, as always, is the last few yards before the finish. I come closer and closer, the crowd getting nearer and the end within reach; I always think, "I'm not going to be able to do it, this time; I don't have enough left for a strong kick." And every time, usually in the last 20-40 meters, I find that I do have enough left. The exhaustion of all the miles leading up to that point falls away, and I find myself capable of anything.

I love that feeling.

Final: 1:26:58
Last year: 1:26:31 (with 5 km less on the bike)
Two years ago, I was looking at the results from Shawnee Mission and trying to decide how well I could realistically do, if I were able to achieve what I considered to be my potential. I looked at times from previous finishers. I looked at the overall. I looked at the age groups. And I decided that if I could swim at a 2:00/100 m pace (which I knew I could) and bike at 20 MPH (which I was sure I could) and work my way down to an 8:30/mile pace on the run (which I thought was possible) . . .

I could potentially work my way in to the top ten overall women.

Take a look at the times above, and then check it out.

2nd place F 20-24 (of 6, minus Bridget Ballard, the overall women's winner)
7th F overall (out of 51, not including the duathlon babes)

So there you have it. It didn't happen at Shawnee Mission (which, admittedly, is a much more competitive race than Wichita's favorite tri), but who's to say that I couldn't have done similarly well on that course on that day? I think I have it in me.

Of course I have my sights set lower, now. Because theoretically, I'm sure I could swim a 1:45/100. And bike 22 MPH. And run sub-8:00 . . .

Losing Momentum

I can't seem to get excited about this weekend's race.

I'm not excited about training or about getting gear together. There is no fire under my ass to beat last year's time, or to set a PR, or even to do well.

The Shawnee Mission race was supposed to be part of a very planned, very deliberate peak. And it didn't happen. And now my whole peak is messed up.

That's all, though; the race was canceled, sometimes that happens, and it's over. I'm not upset about it. I'm not too down about it. I just know, on some level, that my season is pretty much over because of it.

Oh, I've still got a couple races on the schedule. This weekend is Mudwater, our very own local race in the muddy, mutant-catfish-infested waters of Lake Afton. I'm planning to do the Derby Rock 'n' Route sprint in August, which will give me an end-of-season benchmark relative to Emporia (it's the same distance, although not the same course). And I'm registered for the Redman sprint, hoping to win some team points for USAT team nationals. And I'm wanting to do an Ultramax 50 in Paola with my tri partner in crime (Shawnee Mission was supposed to be our race!).

But the hardcore training that is specifically directed towards a racing peak is done, now. Main season is over. The races from here on out are just for fun. Which isn't to say that I won't try hard or do well or even place/win. But I'm not going to be focusing all of my training on it.

That said, I will still be training, but I'm shifting my focus. The cyclocross season is coming up quick, and I want to kick some serious ass this year! So I'm hoping to get in a lot more miles on the bike, go back to base-building, and work on getting the power in my legs that I didn't seem to have in my first attempt at bike racing. I'm relegating swimming and cycling to the realms of crosstraining (along with DDR--at which I'm a rock star--and tennis, which is a good way for me to completely humiliate myself in public). I'd like to do another half-marathon this fall, but I haven't really looked at any races seriously.

Anyway, that's what I'm up to. The Shawnee Mission debacle siphoned my momentum, but I'm okay with it. Time for something new. What has everyone else been doing?

Race Report: Shawnee Mission '09

I experienced something at this race that I've never experienced before.

Cancelation.

Yes, Shawnee Mission was completely and decidedly rained out. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. There was thunder and lightning that made me regret being outside, and this is coming from a Kansan who has experienced lightning and thunder and softball sized hail and tornado threats and snow gales the likes of which most coastal Americans will never see. And I'm not really interested in risking my life to do a race, even if it is one of the most highly-anticipated races on my schedule. The cancelation was a good call.

But it sure sucks.

And the worst part is that this is totally a momentum buster, season-wise. I was supposed to have two peak weekends, back to back. Now I only have one. Bummer.

Pre-Race: Shawnee Mission '09

I haven't been very good about updating lately, have I? My apologies. Haven't felt up to writing, I guess. Not that I'm too busy, really . . . just have nothing to say.

Coming up on my fourth running of the Shawnee Mission Triathlon. It was the first race I ever did (and finished next-to-last), and so it's a special time in my race schedule, every year. I don't have concrete goals for this race, except that I want to be faster than last year. I have expectations: I expect that I'll be able to beat my swim, bike, and run times from last year. I expect that I'll have a better sense of how much energy to reserve for the run; I expect that I'll move up in the rankings, this year.

But the most important expectation is that I will enjoy myself more. Last year, about this time, I was starting to get really, really burnt out. I've guarded myself pretty well against that this time, I think. I've learned lessons from the last few years that have made this season go so much smoother--I think the most important one was having a "big-deal" kind of race, then taking a little time off immediately after to mentally recharge and refocus. That time off after IM KS has really made a difference in my training, this past month. I feel like I've been able to sharpen myself, and have held onto that objective in almost every workout. It's enabled me to have more of a sense of purpose.

This time last year, I wrote time goals for myself. But for now I'll just write the previous times I posted on this course and tell you that this year I will be much, much faster.

Swim: 1000 m in 22:29 (2:14/100 m)

Bike: 18 mi in 1:00:14 (18 MPH)

Run: 4.5 mi in 46:44 (10:23/mi)

Total: 2:12:12 (28/58, 2nd F 20-24)

I'm excited; I think I can do well. I look forward to giving a good report.

Race Report: Derby Firecracker 4 Mile

For the first time ever, I placed at a running race.

The Derby Firecracker run is an old race; this year was its 28th iteration. The field is varied, with fewer than normal bigshots (prize money is only $25, and the food is better at some of the other local races this weekend), more than the normal amount of high school cross country runners, and a whole bunch of regular joes (and janes). Lining up around the start, I recognized very few people. You know how you get used to seeing certain regulars at every race? They weren't at this one. It was sort of disconcerting, like racing in a different city. Which I technically was, I suppose; Derby and Wichita are close, but they're definitely distinct entities (for now).

Morning dawned cool and cloudy, with the sun fighting to break through a bank of clouds rolling in from the south. Wichita was probably in the clear, but Derby is as far south as Clearwater, almost, so I figured we'd be dealing with some weather. It started sprinkling on us on the drive over, and by the time everyone was lined up for the start, we had a gentle downpour. But it was a soft, pleasant rain, and it was by far preferable to the 100* temperatures we've had the past two weeks.

The gun went off about 5 minutes late, and the field began its gentle surge forward. I was running with my iPod, but more as a stopwatch than for the music (I sent my Polar in yesterday to have it serviced, so I've been running without chrono or heart rate). But (silly me) I started the music playing without prepping the stopwatch. So I crossed the start line with iPod in hand, trying to start the timer function and looking (I'm sure) like an absolute tool. I hate it when I look like one of *those* runners--you know, the ones who can't do anything without headphones in their ears.

My dad was with me for this race (I bought him the entry as a Fathers' Day gift, because the race shirt was cool), and we started together. But it didn't take me long to jackrabbit away from him, dodging in and out of slower runners and looking for open ground. For some reason, I always seem to start races right in front of one big pack but right behind the other one. It's like I'm right in between two different levels of runners. Don't care much, if it means I get to run free from elbows and the clomping of other runners' feet.

The course carried us out of High Park (ground zero for the race), up and down a couple of short, gentle hills (in Kansas, these are mountains, you know), and out onto the main roads. The course had a surprising number of ups and downs, all of them long and gentle. At one point. the ground had been dug up in preparation for a driveway, but the race directors did tell us that the sidewalk was out before the race, so we were all expecting it. Shoes got a little bit muddy is all.

Hit the first mile marker in 7:56, according to my iPod, although I figure I can add about 15 seconds to that. My race plan was to hold back a little on the first mile, then open it up for the last three. Usually, in 4 mile races, I find myself wishing it were a 5k at around the 3 mile mark. Figured if I didn't really start racing until mile 1, maybe I could stave that off. When I looked at my split, I was a little wary. But I kicked it up another gear anyway. By this time, it had stopped raining, I had just turned out of the wind, and I was running on a slight uphill. I started to feel a little bit too warm.

At mile 2, there was water. I grabbed a cup without slowing down and sloshed as much of it as I could into my mouth. More of it went on my body than in my body, but I was already wet, so it didn't matter much. I was starting to pull back other runners, one by one, and feeling really good about the pace I set. Hit the 2 mile marker in 7:18, although I didn't check it at the time.

Mile 3 took forever. It wound through a couple of subdivisions, twisting and turning through streets and past cul-de-sacs. I kept turning corners, thinking I'd surely see the mile 3 marker around the next bend. I started to suspect that the course was mismeasured, and mile 3 was extra long. About this time, a big guy--tall and stacked--and I were trading places. I passed him, he passed me. I tucked in behind him to let him block the wind (we were actually running fast enough that I could tell a difference drafting off of him!), and he moved to the side to let me pass. We had a brief conversation about how he made a much better wind block than I did (poor guy was a good foot taller than me). He was hurting, and finally dropped back for good. About the same time, I ran up on a girl who's shirt said "Obsessed: a word lazy people use to describe the dedicated." She was running at a good clip, and it took quite a bit of effort to pass her, but I did. About that time, a good song ("Perfect Situation," by Weezer) came on, and I picked up my cadence a bit and dropped her. Finally passed the 3 mile marker in 9:37. Yeah, I really think the course was mismarked.

Mile 4 hurt physically, but was a cinch in my head. I just told myself, "I can do anything for one more mile," and got 'er done. I passed two thirty-somethings in running skirts (the same kind of uber-fit-but-not-particularly-competitive women who frequent my cycling classes) and made it my goal not to let them pass me. Whenever I heard their footsteps (and chatter) coming up behind me, I picked up my pace.

The "Obsessed" girl re-passed me, but she was fading, and I saw that I could catch her if I wanted to. At this point, we were back in High Park and climbing the final hill; after cresting that ridge, it was a 200 m downhill to the finish line. I surged slightly and drew up even with her as we topped the slope. "C'mon," I said, "it's all downhill from here. You've got enough for one more surge, don't you?" And I started picking it up. She said, "I don't know. I'm spent!" but she kept pace with me, step for step. I pushed her a little more, and she responded. "I'm gonna puke!" she said. "No you're not!" I replied. "Not until you get across that line! You're a strong runner! Finish strong!" And with that we crossed the finish line, her right in front of me.

Coming through the bevy of volunteers at the finish line, I felt energized. I'd seen the clock at the finish line--33 minutes, it said. My goal for this race was 34 minutes (8:30 pace), and I'd done a step better. The "Obsessed" girl high-fived me and thanked me for the encouragement; that felt great. As I exited the finish area, I passed a table where a volunteer said, "All women, stop and see me!" She asked my age group. I said, "20 to 24." And she handed me a silver medal! My first ever medal (not including finishers' medals) at a running event!

I headed back up the road to watch for my dad coming over that final hill. About 5 minutes later, I saw him, and fell into step with him. "It's all downhill from here," I told him. "How about a little push to the end?" He started striding out, taking advantage of the downhill and matching my pace as I accelerated. He crossed in 42:21 (unofficial), feeling tired but having thoroughly enjoyed his Fathers' Day gift. We munched on watermelon, oranges, and cookies. The Derby Runners' Club makes great cookies; they're famous for them. That is apparently the highlight of the Derby Not for Wimps 10-miler.

This race was a ton of fun. Besides the fact that I placed (!), it has a friendly, local feel. There's not the super-competitive atmosphere that I've experienced at some other local races (Easter Sun Run), nor is it overly laid-back, with a bunch of children, walkers, and stroller-pushing parents (Wichita Turkey Trot). The field is good-sized without being too big. The course is interesting, challening, and unique for this area because of the moderate hilliness.

Oh, and did I mention that I got second place in my age group?!

Race Report: Ironman 70.3 Kansas

This was one of the best things I've ever done in my life. One of the coolest. One of the most rewarding. By far one of the greatest achievements. So here's what happened.

Pre-race
I had the awesome privilege of having my whole family at this race with me. My parents each took half a day off work to drive down on Friday night. My brother took a week off of playing bass for the church band to come watch. One of my athletes, Karlene, and her husband shared our campsite. We had a good group.

My family drove down on Friday afternoon, arrived at the camp site around 6:30, and set up our space. My dad is a camping ninja. He climbed a dead tree to find us some firewood. He cooked pork loin with potatoes and sweet potatoes in a dutch oven. We had a Greek salad with tomatoes and cucumber. Peach cobbler for dessert. And then we sat around the fire and talked until it was time for bed.

I slept horrendously on Friday night. The ground was hard and I couldn't get comfortable and there were four of us crammed into that tent and my dad snores and my mom is a chronic insomniac and there was just so much . . . human in there. I prefer not to be in the presence of a lot of human at once when I'm sleeping. It bothers me.

So I didn't get very good rest on Friday, and it sort of freaked me out, because I knew that I was going to have the same kind of sleeping conditions on Saturday night. And even though I know that you have to get good rest for a good week prior to an event in order to perform your best, there's still a need for good sleep the night immediately before.

Saturday saw pancakes for breakfast, the Rock Chalk (Jayhawk!) 5k/10k runners coming past our campsite, and the arrival of Karlene and her husband, Virgil, along with both of our bikes! We picked up our packets just in time to totally miss the rush (the line went from a 5 minute wait to an hour wait shortly after we got checked in). We browsed through the surprisingly full expo section. We got lunch at a great barbecue place in Lawrence. Karlene and I went for a little bike ride, a little run. We dropped our bikes off at T1 and got body-marked (which was totally useless, by the way, because I just ended up with black smudges all over my legs and arms).

The best part about the whole process was that there were other people around the whole time. I didn't have to do anything in isolation. Even gathering my gear for the next day's activities was done with Karlene, the two of us reminding each other not to forget anything. It feels a lot different to be getting ready for a race with another athlete. And because there were many athletes camping near us, we got a chance to get ready with a handful of wonderful people.

And with all that going on, the camping and the family time and the getting to know other athletes and the time spent with friends was every bit as significant to me as the race itself.

And I got an awesome night's sleep on Saturday.

Race day
We woke up at 4 a.m. to a dark, cloudy sky with lightning in the distance. Fortunately, all of the storms went north and east of us, and all we got was a little sprinkle (and the light show). My dad and Virgil both woke up to join us for oatmeal with raisins. I ran off to the bath house to change into my kit and apply generous amounts of sunscreen and chamois butter. I was expecting a crowd of people in the bathroom, but I only saw one other woman getting ready.

Karlene was a little jumpy, but I was totally mellow. I didn't have the butterflies, the nerves, the feeling of "What the hell am I getting myself into?" that I was expecting. I was just kicking back in a lawn chair and eating my oatmeal. At 5, I gathered my stuff, wrangled Karlene, and we headed to T2 to drop off our running supplies. From there, Virgil and my dad joined us in the mile-long walk down to T1.

It seemed like I had brought an inordinate amount of stuff into transition with me. Bike pump, spare tube, helmet, shoes, nutrition, water bottles, towel, wetsuit. It took me a good 15 minutes to get everything where I wanted it. I aired up my tires, grabbed my Body Glide, and went to join the line for the port-a-johns.

After a long wait, when there were only about 3 people left in front of me, a USAT guy started announcing that they were going to close down transition. Why are those guys always such dicks? Just once, I'd like to encounter a race official who doesn't act like an asshole when preparing to close transition. I asked Karlene to go grab my wetsuit for me, so I wouldn't have to go back to it after I finished my very necesary moment.

I was struggling into my wetsuit with about 10 minutes left to go. Met a very nice woman from England (via Junction City, KS) who I'd already remarked on several occasions that morning because she was adorable. About 10 years too old for me, probably, but adorable. We chatted as we walked down to the boat ramp, where my parents caught me and wished me luck one more time. Then it was time to muscle my way through the mass of humanity to the cluster of white caps that matched my own.

Swim: 1.2 miles, 39:34 (2:02/100 m)
This was one of the cleanest swim starts I've ever had. I started off to the right, wanting to avoid the inevitable pummeling that I've seemed to receive lately. I swear, I was faster than most of the field a year ago. Now I feel like I'm being left in the dust. My starting position did the trick, and I was blessed with plenty of personal space for the first 900 m or so. The biggest problem I had was that my goggles were fogging up, and I couldn't see the buoys. So I was just relying on the people around me to head in the right general direction. Then when I was about 50 m from a buoy, I would finally be able to see it. I went through probably 500 m like that, then took enough time to stop and clean my goggles. After that, I could see fine.

I was coming up on the first turn at about the time the wave right behind mine started to catch up. At that point, my time of peaceful swimming was over. It was okay at the beginning, as the athletes who could actually swim passed me on either side. Then I started to get elbows to the sides, kicks in the jaw, and all the unpleasantness characteristic of swimming in a pack of large, masculine triathletes whose only objective is to make it through the swim without drowning themselves. How, I ask you, is it possible that these men were passing me?!

I didn't know my swim time until much later (I figured I came in at around 45 minutes), but it makes me very happy. I swam right at the pace I should have swam at, and it was practically effortless. It set me up well for the rest of the race, and it was a great way to begin.

T1: 2:56
Needless to say, I wasn't really hurrying, although the amount of time I spent in transition definitely became significant to me later. I had my wetsuit half off and my swim cap and goggles in hand practically as soon as I was out of the water, and was running past all the Clydes who had ambushed me in the last quarter of the swim. But once I got to my bike, I got very slow and methodical. I normally don't carry CO2 or a pump or a tube at races, but this ride would be long enough that I wanted that security. So I stuffed all that into my two tiny jersey pockets, sat down to put on socks (I know!) and shoes, double-checked to make sure all my stuff was in my transition bag so that I would actually get it back, then started running. I was parked at the far end of transition, so I had a long run in bike shoes; it's like running in high heels, which is why most women I know are better at it than men. Oh, and I ran into a guy whose butt was sticking out into the aisle while he was trying to get his wet suit off. Knocked him right on his ass. Sorry, dude.

Bike: 56 miles, 2:56:32 (19 MPH)
I had heard things about this course. I'd heard it was tough, that there were a lot of hills, that the whole thing really took it out of you. That was not my experience. I mean, there were a lot of hills (for Kansas). But they weren't the brutal hills of Wildflower. And they weren't the relentless rollers of the Latham loop. They were just hills, interspersed here and there on the course.

And what a course. The Iron Cross, which is apparently a popular loop around Lawrence, is gorgeous. It was ton of fun to ride. I would definitely consider it the highlight of this race.

I managed to lose my nutrition out of my Bento Box before we even got out of the state park. The thing is that I don't have an actual Bento Box; my dad made one for me for Christmas a couple years ago. Yeah, it's not perfect, but tell me you aren't jealous. My dad rocks. Anyway, keeping the thing closed and out of the way of my knees when I'm pedaling takes some finnagling, and I apparently had not adequately finnagled. So I was going uphill and knocked my powerballs and two tubes of Shot Bloks onto the road. I thought about just leaving them and trying to survive on the gels and powerbars that would be at all the aid stations (or so I thought), but decided to go back for the food. If nothing else, maybe I saved myself a littering penalty.

I passed Chrissie Wellington, and we'll just leave it at that. There will be no mention of the respective directions in which each of us were traveling.

The best part of the bike was when I went into bike nazi mode. The course was really crowded for most of the ride, which is understandable. Put a couple thousand cyclists onto a single road and they're going to packed together in places. So incidental drafting is bound to happen. I understand that. And it was a windy day. I had moments when I thought, "You know, I could just stay about a bike length behind this guy for a little while, and no one would even notice." I have no problem admitting that there's a little bit of a cheat inside my head, especially when I'm looking at another 5 hour of racing.

But there was one guy who flew by about three inches off another cyclist's wheel, and in an area where the course was not at all crowded. At first I thought he was just waiting for the opportunity to pass the guy in front of him, but it soon became apparent that his intention was nothing other than blatant disregard for the draft zone. The other two or three cyclists on the road near me were grumbling to each other. So what did I do?

I chased the motherfucker down.

I have no idea how much I had to hammer to chase them. It felt effortless, but they had just blown by me, so I must have been going pretty fast. Anyway, I pulled up even with The Cheat, and yelled at him as I went by to "Get out of the draft zone!" and kept pedaling. As they faded away behind me, I started thinking, "Dude, that was really stupid. What if he chases me down now? What if we get into a shouting match or something crazy? What did I just start?" But it was nothing. A few minutes later, the same duo passed me again, this time with The Cheat a less-blatant bike length off the back of his domestique. So maybe I made some difference. At any rate, I felt like a total bad ass for doing it.

Towards the end of the bike, my neck got really stiff. I was expecting that, since it always happens on my long rides. My levator scapulae get so tight from holding my head up in aero position, and it affects my whole demeanor. My legs weren't exactly tired, and my ass wasn't even sore, but my neck and shoulders were killing me. And I was in need of another port-a-john. I was so happy to come to the bike finish and get on my feet again.

T2: 6:09
My slowest transition ever, I think, thanks to waiting in line for a toilet.

Run: 13.1 miles, 2:20:21 (10:43/mile)
This was, strange as it seems, the best part.

I was expecting it to hurt. I was expecting it to feel awful. I was expecting to come to that moment where I wonder why I do these crazy things, and vow never, ever to do another one. But that moment never came. And the running didn't hurt; it felt great!

The first mile ticked by slowly, but I heard my name called left and right. I had no idea there were going to be so many people I knew lining the course! This was a new experience for me, having my name shouted by people who weren't my family, who I didn't even recognize until after the fact. I felt like a super hero.

I was surprised at how quickly the first loop on the run went by, how much I enjoyed it, and how easy it all felt. I was even more surprised when I checked my watch and noticed that I was running sub-10-minute pace. It was the same feeling I had at UCSB, that first time I ran a sub-30-minute 5k. I didn't realize how in shape I was, and how ready I was for this race.

It was at mile 8 that things started to turn. I'd completed the initial out-and-back on the second loop, and was coming to the long, 400-meter downhill portion that took us to the lake front. Where I'd leaned into the downhill and flown before, I restricted my stride and kept my pace and heart rate down. I walked through the whole aid station. I walked the long uphill coming back. My quads were starting to cramp. I was starting to wonder if I needed more electrolytes, more water, more ice.

After the uphill, I knew the end was near. I was coming into the final out-and-back section of the run course, and passed the mile 10 marker. Soon I'd be running past my family's campsite and my most passionate cheering section. I managed to keep shuffling on, but it wasn't exactly pretty. The next 3 miles I only vaguely rememember through a haze of pain and increasing tightness in my quads and right hip flexors. My plan had been to start drinking Coke at about that point, but none of the aid stations had any left. I took sponges and Gatorade and water and forced myself to resume running after each one.

About that time, I started to try every mental tool I've ever used. I tried to get outside of my body. I tried to go deeper inside my body. I tried to focus. I tried to repeat my mantra ("Trust the work"). I sang "Closer to Fine." Nothing was loud enough to block out the pain.

I passed the marker at mile 12 and thought, "Okay! Only 1.1 miles left! I can endure anything for 1.1 miles!" But it was seriously the longest mile I've ever run. I had no idea a mile could drag on like that. I must have been absolutely creeping, by that point. I felt like one of those really, really old guys at marathons. You know the kind I'm talking about. Looks like he couldn't even walk, but he's still running marathons. I ran exactly like that guy.

As I neared the final turn, the live band was playing "Love Shack," then "Hey Mickey." I was in the midst of the throng, again. I came to the junction where you either go right to the finish or left to complete another loop, and I finally got to go right. I was in the blue corridor, 70.3 flags flying to either side of me. There were two other men nearing the finish with me. "Okay," I told them. "Home stretch, now. Time to run pretty! There will be cameras!" I got no response from them, but my own body rewarded me by straightening up, striding out, and forgetting all about any kind of cramping or pain. I blazed across the finish line, exactly the way I'd wanted it to play out.

Total: 70.3 miles, 6:05:32
I am so happy with my debut. I was expecting to finish in around 6:30. But if I would have just put the effort into my transitions that I normally do, I could have gone under six hours. I really could not be happier with my results.

And of course I want to do another one. Coming into this race, I was sure that I would do one half-iron race and go happily back to Olympic and sprint distance, content to have tested myself once and content to return to what I do best. But now (of course) I'm wondering how much faster I could have gone, how much better I could place, if I made a 70.3 race my A race for a season.

One of my favorite parts about this race, though, was the lack of pressure. I think the reason I never really got nervous about the race was that I knew that the pain would be on a different level. Sure, the last 3 miles hurt, but none of the miles before that were particularly hard. It's a completely different kind of suffering from the all-out effort of a sprint. And going into that, I knew that I wasn't going to need to test the limits of how much pain I could take like at the end of a 5k. And even though I did end up feeling like I tested the limits a little bit, it was in a completely different way.

Writing about this event brings such a sense of joy and elation to me, and every time I think about the experience, I grin a little. I did a half Ironman! What can't I do?

Did It.

6:05:32

Not bad for a first try.

Pre-Race: Ironman 70.3 Kansas

Well, Aunt Flow did decide to tag along for my weekend of camping and racing, but I don't mind. As Speedy reminded me, it could be worse. At least my saddle isn't white.

I'm ready to go, and there's nothing left to do now but do it. Thank you all for your comments of encouragement. I'm sure I can do this, but having half a dozen people to tell me, "Yes you can!" sure doesn't hurt. I feel so lucky to be part of a vibrant online community.


I'm hoping to get the little brother updating Facebook and Twitter for me, so you can chart my progress there. Haven't been able to figure out how to track athletes from the Ironman website.


I'll report back on Monday!

The Countdown

T minus 3!

Feeling 100% better. No worries on the hydration/nutrition front, although I have been a little more skittish about eating questionable food (i.e. steamed vegetables that have been in the fridge for a couple weeks and smell a little funny). You know, just in case.

Cranky, though. And inattentive. I would really prefer it if Aunt Flow would wait until after Sunday to visit.

You hear me, Auntie?

The Countdown

T minus 5 days.

Bad bad bad.

Short of broken bones, amputation, or major surgery, the worst possible thing has happened.

I got the flu.

Last night I went to the cadaver lab with a group of massage therapists to learn about muscles. I did fine with seeing dead bodies all cut open, but had a little trouble with the smell. After two hours in the lab, I was feeling a little queasy. On the way home, I rolled the windows down and breathed in some fresh air, but it didn't help much. I was afraid I was going to have to pull over on the highway and throw up.

Got home and just wished that I could bring up whatever was making me feel so sick. Around 10:30, I finally did. Then again, every couple hours or so, the whole night long. I couldn't lay on my sides without feeling sick. I got terrible muscle spasms in my back. I was painfully dehydrated. I started thinking about going to the hospital; I even thought, "What if I'm dying." Needless to say, I was not at my most rational.

I've been done with the vomiting since early this morning, but my muscles are still sore and tender to the touch. I'm running a slight fever. I feel about 50%, right now. I don't know if it was the field trip to the anatomy lab that made me sick, or if it was food poisoning. I went swimming on Sunday at Lake Afton and got a few mouthfuls of water; maybe it was that. My dad just thinks I got the flu.


Whatever the cause, this is terrible timing. I'm weak and dehydrated at a time when I should be building my reserves of strength. I just hope I have time to re-hydrate and rebuild all the energy I've lost before Sunday's race.

The Countdown

T-minus 6 days.

I've been freaked out. I've been worried. I've been stressed. I've been cranky. I've been lazy. I've been exhausted.

I've auditioned mantras. I've rehearsed transitions. I've paid my dues.

I've had stress dreams. I've had sudden bouts of chills. I've had lots and lots of ice cream.

I've trained. I've built. I've tapered.

I am so ready for this.

Runner's High: Knocking it Out

 Today I was thinking about a drive I made a couple years ago.

I was dropping some friends off at Griffith Park for the inaugural running of the Los Angeles Half Marathon. I don't remember why I'd volunteered to wake up before the ass-crack of dawn and drive an extra 20 miles or so on a Sunday; may have been simply because they were teammates.

I do remember waiting for them to get ready. I remember them talking about taking a long-sleeved "throw-away shirt" to keep warm pre-race. I remember them discussing warm-up methods and field size (which was big, for a first-time event--about 10,000 people). I remember conversations about how they thought they would fare in what was essentially, for them, a training run, one for which they'd done no specific training.

I remember being astounded at the fact that they could just knock out a half marathon like it was no big thing, like it was just another training run. I remember thinking it remarkable that a person could have so many race t-shirts that they wouldn't mind throwing one away like it was disposable.

I would never just knock off a half-marathon; I would never sacrifice one of my precious race shirts to the pavement. My race shirts were like medals in themselves; I could wear those around campus, and everyone would know that I am a triathlete. And a half marathon is a long, long race! It takes hard training and planning and (like approaching the Most Holy Place) a good amount of fear and trembling (and maybe bells on your ankles).

But that was three years ago (two-and-a-half?). And now?

Now there's a half marathon/5k next weekend, the weekend before my half-ironman. I haven't done any special training for a half marathon; it would be a last-minute decision; I'm definitely not evidencing any signs of fear and/or trembling. But I'm still entertaining the thought of doing it.

So what? It's only a half marathon. I can just knock it out.

Race Report: Overview of the Omnium

All three of us--Shannon, OK Girl, and myself--at Sunday's criterium.

So I've done a bike race.

I wasn't very good at it. I don't like not being good at things. It tends to inspire me to push myself harder and harder until I become better at them (mediocre, at the very least). That's what I've done with triathlon.

This weekend was definitely a learning experience, in a variety of ways:

• I'm not nearly as strong on the bike as I thought I was. I might be able to hang with some of the faster women in a triathlon, but throw me in with true cyclists, and I'm no match, even in a time trial. And the cycling classes? Um, I don't think they're helping that much.
  
• My training is not conducive to racing like this. I have zero endurance at threshold power, even though I've begun some threshold intervals, those are about holding intensity, not wattage, and it apparently doesn't translate. But that's okay. My main focus, at this point in the season, is being able to go the distance for Lawrence 70.3. And once I'm done with that, I can shift my focus to power and speed, try to hit my peak, and really hammer the shorter races and (we hope) the cyclo-cross races.
• I'm much better at putting three sports together than I am at focusing on one sport exclusively. At least for now.
• I really, really like criterium style racing. That's why I like cyclo-cross; that's why I like the ITU format; and that's why the Oak Park Crit was my favorite part of this weekend. I think that's the format where I'm most likely to excel, as well.

And there are lots of things I'm trying to keep in mind to silence the "You suck!" voices. There were only three women in the field, so there's no telling how I'd stack up against a field of, say, 30. At my second cyclo-cross race, I ended up right in the middle of the pack, and that might be where I would finish in a bigger race (instead of at the very bottom). My training has focused heavily on running this year, and I've seen my biking and swimming improving at a much slower pace than I saw last year. I haven't been training for this, and if I start, I'll probably be better able to hang with the big girls.

A little more about my training: I really felt for the first time how much difference this year has made in terms of preparation. I have always had the top end speed above everything else, even though I couldn't hold it for very long. But this year I haven't worked at all on developing that, and I can really tell. I never thought I would lose that (and I should know better), but it's not currently there. Which isn't to say it's gone forever, of course. But it won't come back until I work on it.

But I did make enough money to cover my entry fees, plus a little bit extra. And I won a little bit of gear from the prime yesterday. Small field=payouts for everyone! Whee!


So lots to work on. I'm hoping that I can do another stage race towards the end of the summer/beginning of the fall so I can see how I stack up against more women and myself.

Race Report: Kechi TT and Oak Park Crit

The time trial did not go off as I expected, certainly not as I wanted. I'm a triathlete. I should own time trials, man. But I did not own this one.

There were two other women in the TT (only one was a repeat from yesterday). I was the first woman to leave, with one a minute back and the other two minutes back.

Long story short, the girl who started a minute back from me caught me and passed me. I caught her and passed her on the next little incline. She passed me back in the flats. It was the weirdest thing; Saturday I couldn't hang with her on the hills, but on Sunday I couldn't keep her reeled in on the flats.

Very disappointing. It completely bummed me out, actually. All the negative self-talk of Saturday came back. I'm not a cyclist. I'm not strong. I don't belong here. I'm no good. I suck.

I went home and ate lunch, then switched out bikes and headed to Riverside for the criterium, which I decided to do after all (since the worst I could get was third place).

Notice that I am nowhere to be found, in this photo.

The crit was a new experience for me, and one I was pretty nervous about. I would describe my handling skills as decent, but I wasn't sure how well I would react to serious, aggressive pack riding.

Turns out I needn't have worried, because there were only three of us (back to the original three from Saturday), and they decided against combing us with the Cat 5 men because someone said she wasn't comfortable with pack riding.

So it's the three of us--me, Shannon (a Specs teammate), and a girl from Oklahoma--on this .8 mile course, 15 laps for the race with two prime laps. Shannon and I warmed up together, talking over tactics. We determined there was no reason we shouldn't take first and second, seeing as how there were two of us and only one of her. So we planned to keep her out in front, let her set the pace and do most of the work. Then we'd jump at the end and try to drop her.

The course wasn't too challenging. All of the turns were nice and wide, and there were no hills (although there were a few slight gradients). However, there was a section that was paved in brick--cobblestones! Two of the corner marshalls suggested that we try to attack there, since most of the other riders seemed not to like it too much.

We rolled up to the line, had roll call (for all three of us), and once again had the unauspicious beginning of rolling off to the casually-spoken word "go." Shannon set off at a brisk pace, I jumped on her wheel, and OK Girl brought up the rear. We spent most of the first two laps drifting back to let OK Girl take the lead, which she eventually did. Around lap 4, Shannon let on that we should do at least some of the work (although I disagree; if she wants to do everything, I'll let her), so I passed OK Girl to take a pull. I finished the lap, then drifted off the side for rest.

Unfortunately, I had chosen to drop off the front at the beginning of the prime lap, and the other two took off like rockets. I wasn't prepared for that; I wasn't expecting that (of course, I'm not sure I could have hung with them even if I knew it was going to happen). I got my ass dropped.

Shannon took the first prime, and I spent the next 4 or so laps trying to catch them again. I hopped back onto the end, with OK Girl in the lead and Shannon sitting on her wheel. I had just enough time to catch my breath by drafting through that lap before the bell rang again for the prime, and we were off again. This time, I managed to stick with Shannon as she pulled ahead. OK Girl caught my wheel, but we were hammering, and at least I wasn't watching them disappear into the distance this time.

About three-quarters of the way through that lap, Shannon got tired and asked me, "You got it?" I shot off past her like a rocket, and that lasted for about 20 seconds before I fell back, exhausted. They both passed me, with Shannon in the lead. But I pulled just long enough for Shannon to rest and outsprint OK Girl for the prime.

After that prime, it only took me about half a lap to catch them up again. And we sat in, letting OK Girl lead. I snuck up to Shannon's side and tried to discreetly discuss strategy. I told her that I probably didn't have much more than 15-20 seconds of power in my legs, so it would be better if we could drop her with one colossal effort, rather than gradually ratcheting up the speed. In retrospect, it actually would have been better if I could have tried to outsprint her, but I might not have won that contest either.

We decided to try to drop her at the beginning of the 14th lap, right at the cobblestones. OK Girl led us over the line, then Shannon and I jumped, accelerated, and tried to outrun her. Sure enough, about 20 seconds later, my legs decided they had had enough. They gave me the finger, locked up (literally, cramped up tight as rocks), and deposited me back on my seat to do my best to hammer down on the pedals and watch OK Girl pass me in pursuit of Shannon.

They gained about half a lap on me through that lap and the next one, but Shannon managed to outsprint her at the end. So at least the team brought home the win. I gave it all I had, and managed to finish only about 5 seconds back from those two.

The result was the same as Saturday, and in this race, OK Girl was still just so much stronger than me. She's like a freakin' ox. Strong as a horse, that one. But I felt much better after the crit than I did after the TT. I'm not sure why. I think I just really like the criterium format. That's probably why I enjoyed cyclo-cross so much, too. And I was happy to get to work with a teammate, and work well together. We could have executed better in terms of strategy, but considering that it was our first time really riding together, I can't imagine it going any more smoothly than it did.

Most importantly, none of my fears about criterium racing came true. I executed every corner without trouble, I bumped wheels (both from the back and from the side) a couple times, and didn't have any problem. I just stayed relaxed and comfortable, like Nicole Freedman taught us, and had no trouble at all.

Of course, the handling isn't enough, and I need to work on my power output, but I'll talk about that more in my next post, when I review the entire Omnium experience.

Pre-Race: Kechi Time Trial and Oak Park Criterium

Tomorrow, I'm doing my first crit.




I hope I don't hurt anyone.

At least the time trial should be good, yeah?

Race Report: Latham Road Race

Well almost none of my fears were realized. I did get dropped, and pretty early, too. But I managed to catch a small group and work my way midway through that before the pack broke up.

There were only two other women racing, so they combined our race with the cat 5 men. That downgraded our distance from 60 miles (2 laps) to 30 (one lap). I wasn't too excited about that, because I needed a long ride for training purposes today, and 60 miles would have been perfect. But as I talked with my teammates, I quickly began to appreciate the fact that my first road race would be considerably shorter than I had earlier planned.

Absolutely no pomp accompanied the start. We scooted up to the line for roll call and sat for a minute. Then one of the officials noticed that the hand cyclists were coming to the finish, and said, "Okay, we're gonna start a little early so we can clear out for the hand bikes. Cyclists read? Go!" And we went. There were a couple dozen of us, mostly cat 5 men, us three women, and one junior male. The start was much more gentle than I expected, given what I've seen of cyclo-cross, where you start with an early sprint for position.

Within the first quarter mile, there's a sharp turn and a steep hill. Then there's another hill, and another, and another . . . the whole course is rolling. Now admittedly, "rolling" in Kansas is sort of a separate thing from "rolling" in, say, a place where there actually hills. But the course was still pretty tough, because the hills just keep coming. There's no recovery on the entire course; the whole thing seems like it's up and down, and the downs are never quite long enough.

Anyway, someone jumped on one of the early hills, and everyone tried to stay with him, which stretched the field out considerably. And I--climber that I am--completely lost the group. Yep. I got dropped in the first five minutes.

There was some really nasty self-talk during that period. "I suck. Why did I even come out here? I'm not a roadie, I'm not a cyclist. I'm a triathlete. Guess teaching cycling classes all the time doesn't help me that much. I might as well just settle in for a $30 training ride and call it a day." This low point was compounded by the fact that the wheel vehicle passed me at about this time, following the rest of the racers. Man that sucked.

But I saw a couple of other riders up ahead, and figured I could work my way back up to them. And one of them happened to be my cross yoda, so that gave me further incentive to catch them. It took several minutes, but I finally hopped onto their (short) paceline and we all worked through, taking our own turns pulling. After another few miles, we caught the other two girls, who were working together (I assume). We picked them up, along with another guy, somewhere along the way (although he dropped off the back pretty quickly). So we had a pack of six, for a while.

And that was nice. I'd pacelined before, but never at this intensity level. I'd never experienced the difference between working so hard for a short time, then sitting in and recovering. No wonder intervals are so important to cycling.

We got within about 7 miles of the finish before I got dropped again. We'd just come down a long hill (very glad we didn't have to go up that one, by the way). I was second in line, and one of the other women was leading. We started up another hill, and she kept gaining on me. The rest of the pack was dropping back, too, and I called out, "Gap!" At that point, though, she was in her own rhythm and climbing on her own. She broke away and we never caught her.

The other woman was right behind me, with the rest of our pack (only two men left, at this point) falling farther and farther behind. I started pursuing Shannon, but she put more and more time into me going up that hill. We crested the hill (my heart was thumping and I could barely turn my legs). I thought that I might be able to catch her on the downhill, but it wasn't long enough. We came quickly to another hill, and she pulled away some more. She was gone, unless there was a long (really long!) flat stretch coming up (there wasn't) and I could keep her within striking distance (I couldn't).

But at this same time, the other chick was right behind me. She'd pass me on the uphills, I'd pass her on the downhills and flats. We finally hit a long downhill with a slight flat stretch immediately following, and I dropped her by about 50 meters. I thought I had her.

Then we hit the inevitable next hill. She blew past me with no apparent effort. Just out for a pleasure cruise. I kept her within striking distance for about the next mile, but there were just too many hills. Towards the end, I could see them cresting the hills ahead, and the chaser was catching the lead woman (I found out later that the lead woman had dropped her chain).

The wheel vehicle passed me again, and I began vascillating between bouts of "You can still catch 'em! C'mon, in the drops, and work this next downhill!" and "Oh God. I suck. I want this to be over." I started looking for landmarks that would tell me the end was near. Finally, we passed Latham cemetary, and I knew we were within a mile of the end. I could still see the other two women, could even see them as they crossed the finish line, but it was definitely too late to catch them. With that knowledge firmly in my mind, I settled into my drops to make sure that I finished as strongly as possible.

I didn't sprint, at the end. I've got a one-hour run scheduled for later today and a 2800 m swim tomorrow--not to mention the time trial and crit, the other two elements of the Wichita Stage Race. Considering that my position (3rd place AND last place; woohoo!) was set, it seemed unnecessary for me to kick it to the end with tomorrow's races looming on the horizon. Better to save some juice for a finish at the TT than blow it on looking good at the finish line today.

So that was my first foray into road racing. I hope it won't be the last, but it probably won't be a regular thing. I'm just not strong enough. If I concentrated on building some biking power, I might be able to hang a little better. But I'm a triathlete, still, and I like the challenge of putting all three sports together. Maybe as I improve as a triathlete, I'll improve as a cyclist, too; in fact, I know I will. It's only a matter of time.

Final:
30 miles
1:33:14
19.4 MPH

Pre-Race: Atlanta/Latham Road Race

 Ruh-roh. They look pretty tough, don't they?

Pic courtesy of Lanterne Rouge.

Tomorrow I'm doing my first-ever cycling road race.

Remember the first time I did a cyclo-cross race and totally had my ass handed me?

Yeah.

I'm nervous about this one. I've never raced like this. I have minimal experience with pack riding. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up. I'm not hip on the etiquette and afraid I might embarass my team (oh, and myself, too). I'm afraid I might crash and there goes my half Ironman. I'm afraid I might do something dumb and make a whole bunch of other people crash. I'm afraid everyone will be snooty and/or bitchy.



I'm just generally kind of freaked out.


But whatever. The worst that can happen is that I finish dead last and everyone is already gone by the time I get back.


And that's already happened once before.

Race Report: International Boathouse Triathlon

 See that? That's my baby. That's what I have instead of a girlfriend.

This race was awesome.

It was way smaller than I expected. It was way better organized than I expected. And it was way easier than I expected. Here we go . . .

Pre-race
My parents came along with me on this one. At the last triathlons races we attended as a family, we were late. Really late. No-chance-to-warm-up kind of late. So I insisted that we leave no later than 5:30 for a race that started at 7:30. Woke up at 5, and we were out the door by 5:30. Awesome.

Pre-race activities included picking up timing chip and swim cap, along with body marking. Transition area was tiny--there were only about 225 athletes racing the age group race. Pre-race rituals progressed as they should, except for a few little hang-ups. I had a great run warm-up, but when I tried to go out for a bike warm-up, the Gatekeeper stopped me at the bike in/out timing mats and asked if I had already racked my bike. "Um, yeah . . ." Apparently, once you racked your bike it had to stay racked. I've never encountered that rule before. Anyone have any idea as to what the point is?

Also, ran out of time for a swim warm-up, because there was a mandatory (pointless) pre-race meeting. Interesting tidbit, though--there were somewhere in the range of 30 USAT officials at this race, I assume because of the elite and junior elite races the day before. This is the first race where I've actually seen penalties in the results, I think.

The swim took us under a bridge AND a railroad trestle!

Swim: 1500 m, 33:14 (32:18 unofficial, 2:01/100 yd)
Oh man that river was dirty. Not as dirty as Lake Afton (of the infamous Mudwater!), but pretty damn close. It was dirty enough that I'd watched the pros come out of the water the day before with what looked like a reddish-brown 5 o'clock shadow. Apparently, the North Canadian River contains a good amount of silt in the Oklahoma City area. Interesting.

Actually, even with the mud, the swim wasn't at all bad. The water didn't have that muddy smell/taste that truly dirty lakes have, and didn't taste bad when I inevitably swallowed some of it. And I still haven't gotten sick, so woohoo!

The swim felt almost effortless. I'd been a little worried about it, since last Monday was my first open water swim after a long winter off and it hadn't gone very well. Actually, I was an absolute mess. But Saturday, everything seemed to come right back to me. I didn't push myself overly hard, and I lost sight of the lead pack pretty early on. But the wave behind me didn't catch up to me, for the most part, and I did manage to catch a few of the men from the wave immediately before us. I remember while swimming thinking about how confident I was, how smooth and capable I felt, and how I needed to include that in my race report.

But now that I've seen the results--seen that my swim ranked 25 out of 42--I'm a little disappointed. I feel like I should be swimming better than this; I should be able to go around 28 minutes for a 1500 at this point, and should certainly rank in the better half of the pack for the swim. Honestly, I feel like I'm moving backwards with my swim. But that's a topic for another post. I'll just say that I was happy and feeling good, coming out of the water.

Oh! And there were wetsuit strippers! I have never been at a race that's had wetsuit strippers before! They were literally right at the swim exit, which didn't give me time to unzip my wetsuit and wriggle my arms free, so it was unnecessarily time-consuming; I could have done it faster myself in transition. I think that's what added the extra minute to my official swim time.

Way to get the most flattering shot of me, Dad.

T1: 48 seconds
Fourth best in the field. Only three women faster than me through T1, and one of them is an elite.

"Grr! Get that turn!"

Bike: 40 km, 1:17:59 (19.1 MPH)
The hardest part of this section (besides the shitty pavement) was keeping my effort level in check. It was a four-lap out-and-back course. I went out hard on the first lap, just to get things going, then sent my heart rate into the red zone on the second lap trying to pass someone on an uphill. Got past her, got up the hill, and had no zoom. I was going 15 MPH in the flats. At that point, I realized that I really needed to back off for the next two laps. Lap four, maybe I could drop the hammer (but just a little hammer).

The course was scenic, but not a ton of fun. The road was poor--the first portion coming away from transition was under construction. I wrote a review of the course, so if you want to hear all about it, you can go to Racevine.com and read all about it.

I worked hard on the bike, and felt I put forth a good effort. I worked hard, but kept my heart rate and breathing under control. I did well with handling, executing the corners at either end of the course well at a decent speed. But again, looking at the results, I feel like I should be doing better; I should be around 21 MPH, at this point, not 19.

"Ooh look! A quarter!"

T2: 53 seconds
I forgot all about taking my feet out of my shoes at the end of the bike course, so this was a little slow. Also, trying to jog in road shoes really sucks ass.

That is not a tan; that is mud.

Run: 10 km, 57:38 (9:16/mile)
This was really the proudest part of my day. I nailed this run like I've never nailed an Olympic-distance run before. Although I suppose that's not a huge deal, considering this is only my third race at the distance.

Once again, the course consisted of four out-and-back loops, which made it unbelievably easy. On the first loop, I could think already about how nice it would feel to be on that next loop, and before I knew it, I was on the second loop! And 2.5 km is not very far to run--that's like a mile and a half! So the out-and-back went really quickly.

It was interesting to see all the different people on the run. Pretty much everyone was on the run course at the same time. I passed the fastest racer, and I passed the slowest racer--you saw everyone, at some point. And it was pretty cool to run past the spectators and have them cheering at so many points on the course. Really, the feel of the ITU style course was just so different!

The support was unbeatable--two aid stations on each loop, for a total of eight aid stations total. The volunteers were great, very helpful and encouraging. And there were USAT officials positioned at crucial points on the course to make certain you didn't run the wrong way.

I had enough left for an awesome kick at the end, had my name announced, had people yelling and screaming for me, and I saw my name on the Jumbotron after I crossed the line. It was pretty cool. And the post-race food was the best I've ever seen!

Silt + Powerade + 3 hours of racing = instant beard! Don't worry; I've shaved since this was taken.

Total: 2:50:30
This is a 25-minute PR for me, and I met my big goal of breaking three hours. I am completely happy with my performance. I know I pushed it, I know I gave all I had on the day, and I can see how drastically I've improved (also, I didn't repeat the fueling mistakes of Wildflower).

At the same time, I know I can do better. I placed 23 out of 42--just outside of the top 50%. I can do better than that. I can swim a 28-minute 1500 m. I can bike 21+ MPH. And I can run 8:30 miles on a 10k. So while I've allowed myself time to enjoy my success, congratulate myself on a PR, and eat junk food (okay, just on Monday), I know that with hard work and the proper training, I'm going to be doing better by next year. Hell--I'm going to be doing better by the end of the season!

So hurray for me! And on to the next thing.

Vacation!

I know! It's been like two weeks with nary a word from me (unless you happen to follow me on Twitter).

I spent all of last week in Ohio, relaxing with my very laid-back aunt and uncle and training in the hills of Amish Country (not kidding; actually biked passed several horse-drawn buggies).

Did you realize that Ohio has hills? Lots and lots of them. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew this. I knew when I asked my aunt and uncle if I could chill at their place for a week that I would be encountering a few rollers in my training. I've driven those hills; I've gotten carsick on those hills. But until you get out and bike and run on 'em, you don't really know what you're up against.

But I am absolutely positively not complaining. The course of Ironman 70.3 Lawrence has changed since last year, but I'm sure it's still a beast. Lawrence has some pretty rolling terrain, and I am decidedly unprepared to encounter it. Or was unprepared, although after this week's long ride, I feel like I can probably take it on.


This week was not by any means strictly training, however; it wasn't really a training camp. Yeah, I brought my bikes (both) and my running shoes (3 different pairs) and my wetsuit (which I never got around to using), but my plan of attack was simply to relax, and I can confidently say that I accomplished my mission. I slept a good 9-10 hours every night, with a few naps thrown in for good measure. I ate wonderfully (thanks to my generous relations). And I got to meet up with some family (including my cousin's newborn baby).

I didn't feel as refreshed as I would have liked, coming back. In fact, this week has sucked ass. But at least now it's almost over. And this weekend, I'm going to Oklahoma City to race the International Boathouse Triathlon, so look for the pre-race report tomorrow!


Thank you guys for hanging with me.