Surviving the Lost Dutchman

Race morning started very early with a 4:30 wake-up call. Luckily, there was a bus from our hotel to the race start at 5:30, so we only had to eat, get dressed and walk across the parking lot, which was so great. Plus our bus was pretty empty compared to some of the other shuttles we saw loading up. Per usual, my stomach was full of butterflies, which made eating my hotel waffle difficult.

The bus ride was around 20-30 minutes and was filled with the usual nervous athlete chit-chat. When we got off the bus, we joined the hundreds of athletes gathered around the little campfires they’d made. It was really cool:

Some girls at our fire took M & my picture:

Don’t we look so happy? It’s a good thing we didn’t have a crystal ball! The sunrise over the desert was beautiful.

After a final porta-potty stop, we headed over to the start line. It was a very orderly start, we basically walked to our pace corral and the gun went off. And just like that, it was time to run a marathon!

The first six miles were on a nicely packed dirt road:

The scenery was cool, especially in the early morning sunlight:

The best part was that there were cows grazing in that. (I wish I’d stopped to take a picture, especially of the cute baby cow.) It was funny to see cows grazing around the cactus and what-not. I felt great and worked hard to not go out too fast. The dirt road was easy on the legs, and it was gently rolling for the most part. Even when we transitioned to the pavement, I felt pretty good. The route ran right past our hotel, so J was able to sleep in a little bit and spectate easily. Then the race had a long false flat transitioning into the hilly section of the course. I was glad I knew the false flat was there, rather than thinking it was flat and my legs were dead.

My stomach wasn’t happy and I was having the same sorts of burping issues that I frequently have in triathlons, (I blame being bent over the bike for so long.) But I’ve never had the issue in a stand-alone run race or in any of my training runs, so it was a little worrisome. I had some Gas-X strips, but taking a couple of those prompted a minty flavored acid-reflux, so I stopped. As I continued, the stomach got more unhappy and I didn’t really know what to do, so there was a lot of internal debate (Should I eat something? Should I be drinking more? Or am I eating/drinking too much?) Eating more certainly didn’t seem to help and I drank a little water at each aid station, but they were 2 miles apart, so there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to drink too much more.

By the time I got to mile 13, which was the most rolling section of the course, my legs were already starting to hurt in ways that they didn’t usually start hurting until much later during our long training runs. This was concerning, because I knew how the pain thing generally built up over time. Then my brain lost focus and I took a tiny walk break to re-group. I pulled myself together and ran pretty steadily until around mile 15 or so. Then the mental demons were really starting to get to me. My stomach was really unhappy, my legs were hurting and the walk breaks began. It was here that I started to contemplate quitting. It was starting to feel exactly like Ironman Canada and I’d said from the beginning that if the race was anything like that one, I was quitting!

I tried to stick it out, in the hopes that it was just a wall and that it would pass. But it didn’t pass. The walk breaks got longer and when I walked the bulk of mile 16, I knew it was over. Every time I tried to run, my legs were killing me and I knew I didn’t have another ten miles in me. I knew I could walk it in, but I’ve seen that movie before, thank you very much. I texted J from mile 17.5 and told him I was done and that I’d walk to the mile 18 marker to wait for him to pick me up.

He offered me a ride back to the hotel, but I opted to go to the finish with him to see M finish her race, which I hoped was going well. She’d looked great when she passed me at mile 12, so I had no reason to doubt that she was doing great. I was very glad I did, because even though I knew I’d made the right choice about pulling out of the race, I was sad that I’d had to make that call. But watching people crossing the line and cheering them on and feeling the positive vibes made it impossible to feel too down. M was hoping for a 4:45/sub-five finish and as the clock ticked closer to her goal I prayed to see her come around the corner, but sadly five hours came and went. A few minutes later, we finally spotted her. She looked great:

But when she crossed the line, she burst into tears and I knew immediately she had the same tough race I’d had. We commiserated over post-race pretzels and orange slices as we walked back to the car.

Screw trotting, these turkeys are sprinting!

*** Apologies to my tens of readers for neglecting this blog so shamelessly. But trust me, there would have been a lot of boring blog posts about running and things seen on the bus ride to/from work. And does the Blogosphere really need more of that? I think not… ***

Today marked M’s and my fourth Turkey Trot race and the very first time that all four of us (J, T, M & myself) all raced together ever. So, it was a pretty momentous occasion. T’s & my marathon plan has us doing weekly track workouts and some pretty taxing tempo workouts, so my plan for the race was to see how fast I could go and really push myself. M & T were also looking for Personal Bests and J claimed to not make a distinction between running and racing. (We love J. He’s so special!)

I think this race has gotten bigger each year we’ve run it, but it’s still retained it’s wide range of participants. You’ll see everything from the guys in shorts and singlets who will do it in 15 minutes to the runners in silly costumes to the whole family (grandparents & dog included) running with their stroller. Combined with the low-key style of the race, it makes for a very festive experience. We lined up near the front to minimize the dogs and strollers that we’d have to pass. Here’s T’s game face:

The race director got up on a ladder to address the crowd and then we were off! Everyone set off at their own pace and I was pleasantly surprised to find M next to me. Then J caught up to us. At some point M had to drop back and I ended up dropping J on a nice section of downhill. T of course was up ahead of us, but surprisingly I kept him in sight. I pushed really hard on the downhills, trying to get as much “free speed” as possible, but I deliberately didn’t look at my watch to see how fast I was actually running. J passed me again on the final downhill section, which wasn’t terribly surprising.

The final mile is flat and I knew it was going to be a struggle and it didn’t disappoint! I was hurting big time, then M pulled up next to me. I tried to stay with her, but she was looking strong and had paced herself well (unlike yours truly!) I was feeling very disappointed in myself because I just couldn’t keep pushing at the end and actually had to walk across a street less than a quarter of a mile from the finish to get my heart rate under control. But then I crossed the line and looked at my finish time: 26:27. That’s a 5K personal best for me by a lot. Like over 2 and a half minutes, which is pretty amazing in such a short race. M beat me by 20 seconds, proving she’s speedier than she thinks she is. And both boys also sported respectable times.

Here’s the obligatory post race picture:

Now, let’s eat! M & J made bagels at their place, but first T had a little chore to attend to:

If I knew the words to “roll out the barrel” that would totally be stuck in my head right now…

Who let the dawgs out?

This morning was the Dawg Dash 10k, held on the University of Washington campus (home of the Huskys.) M, T and I were all racing in preparation for marathon training, though for different reasons. T & I were trying to determine paces for speed workouts, M was trying to determine if she could run 6.2 miles without dying or having her mysterious foot pain get worse. My co-worker Reed was also doing the race in preparation for his first half-marathon coming up in December. So, as you can see, we were all very serious runners with goals and stuff.

The race ends on the track of Husky stadium, so we picked a post-race meeting spot next to the giant helmet:

Finish line festivities were already being set up. (Please note the wet track, bodes well for good race weather, right?)

While we waited to meet up with Reed, there was a real ladies room (no porta potties for us!) and some time for stretching:

And looking adorable:

People were allowed to bring dogs to this race, so there were tons of cute canines around. We teased T that he was going to have a hard time focusing on the race since he’s genetically unable to not pet/maul any dog within 5 feet. Eventually we met up with Reed and headed for the starting line.

There were about 4,500 people signed up for the race, split between 5k and 10k distances I assume. They had pacing areas up, which was nice, except for the part where they went: 5 minute miles, 6 minute miles, 7 minute miles, Joggers (!) 8 to 12 minute miles. What. The. Hell? So, as you might imagine, it was quite a cluster. We lined up as close to the front of the cluster as we could, next to strollers and dogs. (Not kidding!)

Dear Dawg Dash organizers, if you could add two more “running” pace corrals for 8 & 9 minute miles and then have the slower folks, that would be super.

My goal was to push as hard as I could, since I’m a fairly big wuss when it comes to actually pushing myself pace-wise. I’ve never done a standalone 10k race, so I was curious to see how fast I could do it, even if it did hurt like a mother. The course was very rolling, which didn’t help. Not to mention the dodging of dogs and strollers. (The 5k course weaves in and out of the 10k course, so you end up with slower and slower 5k-ers to dodge. Not fun.) This picture of Reed finishing really just says it all:

(And he finished about 10 minutes ahead of me!)

By the time I got to the finish line, folks were strolling along five abreast across the whole race course. This made me mad and gave me the last bit of oomph to hustle to the line, even though I really wanted to lay down and die instead. When I looked at my watch as I crossed the line, I was shocked to see a time of 56 minutes and some change. Unfortunately, it turned out to be because the course was nearly half a mile short. (WTF? On the 26th running of the race? Seriously?!)

Apparently, inaccurate run courses are my thing this fall… But despite all of the races shortcomings, I had a good time and was proud of myself for pushing through a tough race where I was hurting pretty much constantly. M & T also did really well. It was fun to watch M sprinting down the line and she ran the whole thing, looking strong both times I saw her.

Look out Lost Dutchman, we’re coming for you!

Grand Columbian: the rest of the story

Geez, this thing is almost as long as my IM Canada race report! So, I got off the bike and “ran” to the changing tent for the second transition. A nice volunteer handed me my bag and there was another one in the changing tent to help put all my stuff back in the bag. I changed as smoothly and quickly as I could and hit the road. To my great surprise and delight, I was able to run right away without any terrible side stitches or stomach cramps. I actually felt pretty decent all things considered. I focused on keeping a nice steady pace and not go out too hard.

The course goes over a bridge and then down a long hill to a dirt road that runs along the Columbia River. It’s largely the same course as the first year we did it, so I was familiar with it for the most part. I was cruising along and looked at my Garmin to see how far I’d gone. 2 miles in, not bad. And then I passed the 2 mile marker about five minutes later. What the what? I’d looked at my watch when I saw that mile marker, so I was not terribly pleased to see that the 3 mile marker was appox. 1.1 miles later. Sigh. TriFreaks strikes again, the run course is going to be long. Awesome.

Since there was nothing to be done about the long course, I just focused on running strong. I was feeling pretty good and only taking walk breaks at the aid stations so I could drink/eat. The aid stations were sporadically placed which actually wasn’t that big of a deal, since I had gels/food with me. (I do feel bad for the longer distance folks though, that would have sucked.) I was getting concerned that I hadn’t seen T yet and hoped that he was doing okay. Finally, at mile 6, I saw him and he was running and looking okay.

This guy was one of the highlights of the day for me. I gave him a high-five as I saw him on the course. Here he is hamming it up for M’s camera heading for the finish line:

And posing for a post-finish photo op with M. So rad!

The rest of the run was pretty uneventful. I was bummed that I was so far off of my goal time, but I was please by how much more running I’d been able to do than previous years, which meant my pacing/fueling were on point. While I was finishing up the run, here was T heading for the finish line. Between his Loverboy headband and the guy next to him’s short-shorts/tanlines, it’s like one of those Fashion Don’t spreads in Us Weekly…

I think these pictures sum T’s response to finishing nicely:

Then, a mere 19 minutes later, here I come!

(I’m apparently elbowing imaginary competitors out of the way… ) M heckled me into smiling, even though I was in a grumpy mood because of the long run course and general race mis-management:

And finally, I crossed the finish line and ended the madness. T and I in a triumphant post-race photo. Can you say “Never again?”:

Race results (ordinarily, I’d compare these to last year, but since the courses are so different, I opted not to.)

Me: Overall time: 7:46:01 Swim: 47:20 T1: 7:01 Bike: 3:56:50 T2: 3:54 Run: 2:50:58
The boy: Overall time: 7:27:16 Swim: 48:45 T1: 6:26 Bike: 3:47:06 T2: 4:14 Run: 2:40:48

After sitting on the grass for a little while and swapping war stories it was time to head back to the house. J made delicious pizza while the rest of us lounged around the living room. I was actually feeling better than T, who eventually laid on the floor with ice packs, his compression socks and the foam roller.

I also made him hydrate…

I think the boy was unpleasantly surprised by how hard it was to fall asleep after a long race. I’d sort of gotten used to it, but it does suck. For whatever reason, (probably the tons of caffeine and sugar you ingest over the course of the day) the brain just doesn’t want to shut off, even though the body is very tired.

Grand Columbian: the bike

It was chilly, so I’d grabbed my arm warmers and stuck them on my wrists. But since the race started with a 1.5 mile climb from transition to the road (and to think, I used to think that it was bad that we only had a mile before the Almira Grade… ) I didn’t need them initially. I was surprised at how good I felt on the bike. I was my usual wet and cold self, but my legs felt good and I was spinning easily up the hill. M & J were stationed on the hill, so I gave them my “rock” salute:

I love this shot that M got (even though I’m locking my elbows and somewhere my old coach would be so ashamed… Sorry Coach Cane!):

And this is me laughing in response to J telling me that I was “a third of the way there.” (That is a direct quote from the announcer to one of the iron distance guys. Apparently, his math needs work… )

Here’s T passing everyone in sight:

I’d heard T in the transition tent, so I knew he was close. But this picture, captioned by M shows exactly how close:

He passed me a little while later and we had a few moments to chat about the horrible swim chop and how he’d fared. Then he was off. I concentrated on keeping him in sight as long as I could. Then I was passed by M & J on their way home. J got these awesome pictures of me on my phone. Here I am giving someone “the look”:

And here I am in the distance (with my elbows still locked For shame!)

And also a few of the terrain of the race:

It is really a beautiful bike course. I was having a really hard time getting my head in the game. I kept finding myself being upset about my slow swim and how long it was taking me on the bike. I felt my time goals going right out the window and with them my desire for the race altogether. Finally, I had to give myself a stern talking to and basically made the commitment to do this race. There were the rollers and wind that I was expecting. I took a little wrong turn off the course and had some spectators in a car chase me down (“Are you supposed to go a different way than all of the other bikers?” Um, no… ) but thank god they were there and I got back on track pretty quickly. I used my fury at that to fuel me through some more rollers and wind.

Because of the change in start point, the bike course was less of a loop and much more of an out and back. So, I could see the folks who were ahead of me and it seemed like that was everyone in the race. I knew I was ahead of people because I’d passed them on the swim, seen them in the change tent and their bikes on the rack, but except for one person that I’d seen as I was rejoining the course, I was by myself. But I just kept pushing on. I spent most of my time in the aero bars due to the wind and thanks to Rev3, I was pretty comfortable with that.

I passed a few people and finally saw T coming back the other way. I was surprised when I reached the turnaround not that long afterward. I was either having a great bike or he was having a terrible one, not sure which. (He’d looked okay, so I chose to believe the former.) That gave me the confidence to push a little bit, plus the wind died down a little bit. Whatever the cause, I started passing more people and feeling really good. I kept eating and drinking and rolling along. I’d wanted to do the bike in 3:30 – 3:45, but ended up rolling in at nearly four hours. Since I based my target on the old course, I decided not to get too upset about the slower time.

Grand Columbian: The Swim

Here we are all lined up for the start (finally). Look how nice that lake looks! (T and I are at the far right… T has his hands on his hips.)

And we’re off!

The start was so crazy that I couldn’t even figure out where the buoy was that I was aiming for. It took me a little while to gather my wits and figure out where I was going, but eventually I was on my way. They had the same rope buoy line as last time and there was a solid line of swimmers on it. I was going faster than they were, so I started just passing them and not worrying about the line. I saw T in line as I passed him and saw him see me, which was funny. Eventually, I found an open spot on the line and settled in. The chop was pretty significant but I was able to deal with it, the real problem were these waves that would sweep through and just move me two feet over. It was hard to get a rhythm in such conditions, but I actually felt like I was swimming well. I was passing folks pretty regularly and staying pretty close to the buoy line (mostly because I could hardly see over the swells.)

When we reached the far buoy, the buoy line had blown over and we basically were swimming toward the people who were behind us, which was very disorienting. I knew that the buoy line was wrong, but had no choice but to follow it, given that I couldn’t even see the shore from where I was. When I could finally see the arch, I broke from the line and tried to swim as straight a line as I could toward it. M’s ability to spot me swimming is uncanny:

I knew the conditions were tough, but I was very disappointed to see 47 minutes on my watch when I stood up. (I thought a 40 minute swim was very doable for me this year… ) Oh well, time to shake it off and move on.

I was very grateful that T and I had done some run workouts after some of our swims in Green Lake. We’d done it to save time, but it was very handy in being able to run to transition as well.

T was only a minute or two behind me:

Transition was tough. I was still brooding over my rough swim and trying to fish my bike gear out of the giant trash bag they’d given us was tough. But I managed to stuff my wetsuit back into it and get myself out onto the bike. (All told T1 took about seven minutes… )

Grand Columbian: Pre-race Shenanigans

I have a ton of great photos of the race, courtesy of the fabulous Ms. M, so I’m going to break the race report up into sections, lest it get ungodly long(er).

I woke up with the usual butterflies and went about my normal pre-race prep. It was funny having T getting ready for the race as well, but nice too. We all four headed over to the race start together, so that we wouldn’t have to go pick up a car later. Things at the race site were already in full swing, with the iron and ultra distances having started 2 and 3 hours earlier.

Most of the athletes were still in the water, so we could set up our stuff without getting in anyone’s way.

The transition area had these stupid bamboo poles that would bow under the weight of the bikes. (This was unfortunately not helped by the fact that they didn’t assign racks to anyone, other than by event, so there could be too many bikes on any given rack. One of them broke at the pre-race meeting, so I was concerned that I might come back to a pile of mess… )

We had to leave everything in our transition bags, so there wasn’t too much set-up to be done on the bike. I still made sure I knew where my rack was in relation to the changing tent/exit and all that…

It looks prettier in the Hipstamatic world:

It was chilly and I was nervous about my sleeveless wetsuit decision. But I hadn’t brought the long sleeve, so there was nothing to be done about it. T was nice enough to try to keep me warm.

An adorable pre-race photo:

Soon enough, it was time to head down to the lake. Most of the iron distance swimmers were out of the water, but there were still some ultra folks finishing up. (One of them breaststroked almost the whole 3.1 miles. He ended up getting pulled toward the end. It was crazy talk.) We got into our wetsuits, mostly for warmth and waited for a chance to get in the water for a warm-up. But first, one last Hipstamatic of T:

And on to the warm-up. Look how nice the lake looks. Hardly any chop at all…

So, here’s where my annoyance with the race organizers rears it’s ugly head again. Initally, T’s wave was supposed to go off at 9:00. Mine (along with the other women doing the race) was to go off at 9:05. At the last minute, they decided to have three waves based on your predicted swim time. Now, the problem with that was that we had all go over a timing mat so that they knew who was in which wave (because they’d done this at the last minute.) Unfortunately, the timing guys weren’t ready for it and it took approximately 8 minutes per wave to get everyone checked in and started.

I’d panicked and opted for the third wave with T, so that we didn’t have to worry about folks behind us. That was a mistake because it gave the wind about 20 minutes to pick up and the chop to get worse. But we did get the pleasure of watching T dance on the timing mat:

And then summarily teased by the race announcer. (That boy is such a ham!)

 

Race Report: Labor Day half marathon

After Rev3, I made a commitment to do some longer runs of race distance and, if I could manage it, throw a half-marathon race into the mix. I actually managed to find a race that was nearby on a weekend that worked with my training schedule. I’ve never actually raced a stand-alone half-marathon, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. The vibe of running races is very different than triathlons and it’s very weird to just have the simplicity of running. When you pick up your packet, there’s just a number and a chip in it and there’s no terrible waiver to sign or pre-race meeting. It’s sort of nice, actually. I’d not signed T up because it was a pretty big step up in his long run distance and I knew that he’d want to race it harder than was probably wise and potentially end up hurting himself. (Ironic foreshadowing… )

I’m sad I didn’t think to take any pictures of the race start, but I didn’t remember that I had my phone with me until it was a little too close to the start time. It was a much bigger race than I’d been expecting, so there was a pretty big crowd. Despite my best efforts to pace myself appropriately, I went out too hard. When I looked at my watch at the two mile mark, I was shocked to see that I’d been running about 40 seconds per mile faster than my typical training run pace. I had felt like I was taking it so easy! I was feeling good, so I ignored years of experience about how going out hard in the beginning would cost you at the end. I figured that since I usually did these races after a 1.2 mile swim and a 56 mile bike, that I could push it here.

That strategy worked pretty well until about mile 11, where all of the wheels came off and I started getting terrible stomach cramps that slowed me a walk a number of times. This happened in my last 13 mile run and I’d blamed it on my period starting (sorry for the TMI!) but that wasn’t the issue here, so I’m guessing it’s some sort of nutritional issue. I still managed to run 11:07/minute miles for the overall race, which given that I walked large sections of the last two miles makes me pretty happy. I’m going to make some adjustments to my electrolyte/salt consumption which I’m hoping will address the stomach cramping. We’ll see how it pays off at Grand Columbian, where I had such a dismal run last year…

I am very glad that I did this race. It was fun to just do a running race and it makes me consider the possibility of training for a marathon in the off-season. I know T really wants to do one, so that might be on the horizon.

Rev3 Race novel… er… report

Originally, I had very ambitious goals for this race. But my training wasn’t where it needed to be to achieve them, so I picked a goal that was still challenging but achievable – a sub 7-hour half ironman. For many racers, this goal would be a terrible day at the races, but for me it had been a long-standing goal that I’d come close to once with a 7:11-something at Black Diamond in 2009. (And that was due to residual fitness from Ironman training.) As always, I also had a secret “pie-in-the-sky” goal that would happen if things went really well. For this race, it was 6:45. But we’ll get back to that later.

I actually slept pretty well the night before the race, which is unusual for me. But I still had the usual pre-race nerves and desire to barf, so there’s something to be said for consistency. We grabbed some breakfast from the hotel breakfast bar, which included a weird little machine that made pancakes and spit them out of a conveyer belt like thing in about a minute. They weren’t the world’s best pancakes, but perfectly edible when smeared with peanut butter and rolled with bananas. Then it was time to head over to the race site.

Things were much busier in the transition area than the day before. T took a break from playing Sudoku on his phone to take my picture:

I was having a hard time figuring out what to do with my bag, so I stuck it under my towel. Voila, a two-level transition area:

I lost the boy to the announcement of the Voodoo Donuts truck, so I wandered over there after the porta potty line to learn that apparently the announcement had been premature and there were now a small group milling around the truck. Including this adorable sight:

With my sherpa properly sugared up, it was time to wander over to the swim start to watch the pros start their race and get into my wetsuit. But first, a last silly pose for the boy:

Welcome to the gun show! They’d announced the water temperature at 72 degrees, which was greeted with great skepticism by everyone. The pros weren’t allowed wetsuits and I felt very sorry for them. Until they allowed us into the water to warm up and I discovered it was in fact warm. (d’oh… ) My long-sleeved wetsuit was going to be toasty… They had us all come out of the water and stand on the shore (Photo c/o Eric Wynn – ericwynn.org)

And then, when they blew the horn, we ran in and started swimming.

I started a lot faster than the last beach start at IMC and actually had a pretty good start for me. Not too far back, not too jostled and a straight line to the first buoy. My goal was to just have a nice relaxed swim and not burn too many matches. I found this amazing shot of the swim on the blog of one of the pro men – I actually remember seeing the helicopter responsible for this shot while I was swimming. (Photo c/o Eric Wynn)

Initially, I found a good groove and was actually enjoying myself. Then the mens wave behind us caught up with us and it got a lot more chaotic. I ended up moving wider of the buoys to get some clear water and regain my calm state of mind, which meant a longer swim than necessary. Oh well. Even with all of that, I still did the swim slightly faster than usual and about what I’d expected, so it was okay. Swim: 44:34

There was an approximately half-mile run from the swim exit back to transition. They had a place set up for bags where we could stash a pair of running shoes and put our wetsuits. I hadn’t known about this in advance, so I didn’t have a second set of running shoes but I did take my wetsuit off and stuff it in the bag. I was super dehydrated from the hot swim, so that run in my wetsuit socks was crampy and terrible. But soon enough, I was getting on my bike and heading out. T1: 7:57

I knew the bike course would be windy and I was not disappointed. Luckily, riding in Seattle has prepared me for wind, so it didn’t phase me too much. (The trick is to never expect a tailwind… ) The few remaining men who hadn’t passed me during the swim proceeded to pass me on the bike. (Fun fact: men who can’t swim seem to like to ride disk wheels… ) It was a little disheartening at first, but my plan was to take it easy for the first half of the first loop. There were a couple of spots that I had to speed up to pass people, but for the most part I stuck to that. I also got to see T heading out for and coming back from his run, since the course passed that close to our hotel.

I may have gotten a little too excited on the return trip, because the second loop was a little tougher. My key accomplishments with this race were not stopping at any aid stations and actually getting two water bottles handed to me by volunteers so I could refill while riding. (Previously, I was too chicken to pull this off.) I also did well with all of the u-turns, which I’d also been worried about. Despite the heat, I did pretty well with eating and drinking. As I closed in on the end of the bike leg, I started thinking about a smooth transition and a good start to the run. (I’ve been practicing visualization techniques in my training and was hoping they could work their magic today… ) Bike: 03:09

I was very proud of the second transition. It was smooth and focused, even while chit-chatting with the hard-core girl in the spot next to me. (I also had a way faster transition than her, which took the sting out of her blowing past me minutes into my run… ) I’ve been practicing my transitions, so it was nice to see the hard work pay off. T2: 2:38

Starting the run was just terrible. I had a terrible side stitch and it was hot. They also had us running through this hay field: (Photo courtesy of Eric Wynn)

I was alternately running and walking and trying to stretch the cramp out of my side. It was at this point that I completely lost hope and was certain that my sub-7 goal was toast and I was in for yet another half-marathon death march. (It didn’t help that I was being passed by the old, the infirm and a very heavy young man.) Finally, I gave myself a kick in the ass and forced myself to get going. Basically, the plan became to run as long as I could. At first, that was about six steps at a time, but eventually the side stitch loosened and I was able to run for longer stretches.

I passed back a few of the folks who had passed me and started picking points to run to. The run course was along the same road we’d been biking on, so it was hot and windy. I was able to see some of the 4 hour bikers come in and it reminded me of where I was last year, so that lifted my spirits. My cool-sleeves also really helped cool me off and several other racers said they were jealous of them. The aid stations were manned by very nice, surprisingly enthusiastic volunteers, who also really helped cheer me up. My favorites were a couple of 11-12 year old boys who offered to splash me and, when I said yes, DOUSED me with two cups of water. Talk about the perfect job for a couple of boys.

I knew T was planning to meet me at the turn around point of the run, about the 8.5 mile mark and I was pleased to see that this part of the course had turned off of the road was on a shady path. My mom had also joined T, so it was cool to see them. T also got a pretty decent picture of me:

After leaving T and my mom, I was starting to realize that I was pretty solidly going to make my sub-7 goal and realizing that I also had a shot at the ambitious one. It helped motivate me to run more and I was actually feeling pretty good. (Relatively speaking, of course.) I was passing some of the folks that had bummed me out early in the run and using that to motivate me further. When I reached the last aid station, I knew that I had to put my head down and hustle. There was a super amazing volunteer at the last bend whose amazing enthusiasm and energy really helped my poor tired legs drive that last .1 mile.

The nice part is that you round a little corner and you come out to see the finish. When I saw that the clock was UNDER 6:45, I couldn’t believe it. I ran as fast as I could (not very) to the line. Run: 02:39

I was very emotional when I saw T and my mom. I really couldn’t believe that I’d beaten my goal. It’s the first time that’s ever happened. It’s also that curious blend of exhaustion, pride and pain that happens at the end of a long race. Here I am, after I pulled myself together a little bit:

The A.R.T. station was still set up and not crowded, so I had another session to alleviate some of the post-race soreness. It’s so much nicer to finish closer to the rest of the pack, usually things are pretty much closed down when I cross the line. TOTAL RACE TIME: 6:43:34

Of course, I have to give a huge shout out to the boy. Not only is he an amazing race sherpa, but his super awesome Christmas present was a huge part of my success today. I’m looking forward to getting him into shape to race with me at Grand Columbian later this year, so that he can share in some of the “fun.” (It will also be nice to have a training partner for some of the long, weekend bike rides.)

No expectations: Grand Columbian race report

Five years ago, I did this race as my first half-ironman. We’d just moved from New York and I was woefully unprepared. To my great surprise, I had an amazing time and learned how much I enjoyed long-course racing. Initially, when I’d decided to race it this year, it was going to be my A race. A chance to kick ass and take names. Unfortunately, life threw me a few curve balls this year and I wasn’t going to have the race I wanted. Despite the excellent advice of friends on this very blog, I decided to move forward with my plans to race the half-ironman, knowing it was going to be slow and probably very, very painful. I decided that I was going to roll with whatever the day threw at me, enjoy the race as much as I could and basically set a nice low bar to beat next year. ;-P

The logistics of this race are a little unusual. When we did the race in 2005, there were two transition areas, so you packed bags for each one and got them before each transition, rather than setting up one transition area. But now the race has only one transition area, but still has the bags. So, it’s like a mini-Ironman:

All right, a very mini Ironman. Luckily, I had experience with this type of transition, so I wasn’t too rattled. It also helped that the race started at a very humane 9 am. I got to wake up at a reasonable hour then wander over, drop off my bike/bags, get body marked and go back to the campsite for some breakfast and be away from all of the hub-bub. It was very pleasant and with my more relaxed outlook, I wasn’t even that nervous.

Before too long, it was time to head to the start line. They were starting all of the men, relay-swimmers and aqua-bike people in the first wave, then the half-ironman women five minutes later. This meant there were about thirty of us waiting for the gun to go off. There was a lot of good-natured joking about girl-power and how nice it was going to be not to have to brawl with the boys for position. Because of the smaller wave and the fact that I really wanted to be able to swim on that buoy line, I lined up toward the back with the plan of passing any crazy swimmers as quickly as possible.

This plan worked brilliantly, I was out clean and passed two women almost immediately. I stayed on the buoy line and passed people pretty steadily, as everyone was pretty much in a straight line. I finally caught up to a woman who was swimming almost exactly my pace/maybe a little faster, who I could swim with. This almost never happens to me, I seem to be perennially in between the too-fast swimmers and the t00-slow/too-zig zaggy swimmers. Plus, I had the buoy line to know that I was on-course. It was awesome.

We passed a few boys in the first wave (YES!) and rounded the buoys smoothly. The buoy line for the last leg of the triangle had drifted in, so it seemed smarter to leave the buoy line and try to swim a straight line into the finish. This was a good idea in theory, but probably not so much in practice. It was hard to see that final buoy and I’m not sure I didn’t swim a wider line that I needed to. So, I finally angled back into the buoy line and sprinted to catch up with the girl that I’d been swimming with. She was a little more ahead of me than she had been, but I got pretty close to her.

The beach is very rocky, which made the exit out of the water a little slower than I wanted. But I saw T/Luke cheering for me and once I made it onto the carpets, I was able to jog up to the changing tent. The mood in the tent was jovial and I was surprised by how many women were completely changing their clothes. I hurried as quickly as I could, but having the long run up to the tent and then stuffing everything into the bag definitely made for a longer transition than I would have liked. I did beat the other girls out of the tent and onto the bike.

The bike leg starts with about 2 miles of climbing, which is just plain rude. You have about 1/4 mile of flat to get used to being on the bike. Luckily, I knew this and basically just took it easy on the climb. Last time, I’d had to stop and rest – so even though it felt like it took me forever to climb, at least I rode the whole thing. The bike course was even more beautiful than I remembered. It’s pretty much all rolling, with very little flat, which actually helped me because there was never a time to dwell on how I felt. I just had to go with the flow.

At one point, I dropped my chain, which allowed my swim-buddy to pass me. She asked if I was okay and after I told her why I’d stopped she showed me how loose her aerobar was. (Alarmingly loose.) I caught up to her at the first aid station, as the volunteer there was saying they didn’t have any tools to fix it. I had my multi-tool in my saddle bag, so I stopped to help her. Her gratitude told me that I’d done the right thing, even if it cost me a few minutes. Before too long, the volunteer had it tightened and I was on my way.

I passed a few folks here and there and kept ahead of my swim buddy. I focused on drinking/eating and enjoying the scenery. The bike course is definitely challenging. It’s gorgeous, but there’s a lot of climbing and wind. Though I was trying not to set goals, I was hoping to come in under four hours and that didn’t happen. My legs were definitely feeling all of the climbing as I came into the change tent for the second transition, but I put my run gear on and headed out of the tent before I could think about how much the run was going to hurt.

Heading out on the run is always a mental hurdle for me. Even in training, I usually start every brick run wanting to quit. So, I put my head down and tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other – running when I could, walking when I had to. It was about this point that I started wishing I’d done the aquabike instead. The run course is two loops, which is challenging, but most of it was on a dirt road that winds along a pretty lake next to this huge cliff face and was gorgeous. It’s undulating, so you could run down the hill, walk up the next one and so forth. On a positive note, I think I fueled well on the bike and my stomach was feeling much better than usual. I’d also brought my fuel-belt, so I had water whenever I wanted it and the aid stations were plentiful and had awesome volunteers.

As I was heading in from the first lap, I must confess that I thought about cheating and pretending that I was on my second lap when the volunteers asked me. My first lap was slow enough that no one would have been the wiser. There were so few folks out with me, heading out for the second lap was tough. But I worked on getting my head in the game and just did the best that I could. It took a long time to finish that second lap. In the end, there were only two people behind me and it was my second slowest time, (after the first Grand Columbian attempt.) But I’m glad I did it. I learned a lot for my next attempt and there’s really no where to go but up.

Final times:
Swim: 45:54
T1: 6:12
Bike: 4 hours, five minutes
T2: 3:41
Run: 3 hours, two minutes
Overall: 8 hours, three minutes

I am sad that T basically had to spend his birthday by himself and then taking care of me, but I’ll make that up to him later on. He’s the best husband a girl could ask for and I appreciate his support in this crazy hobby of mine. Hopefully, next year we can both be racing and kick some serious ass.