This weekend was the much-anticipated end to my fall triathlon season. I traveled with the Vandy Tri team to McCormick, South Carolina for an intermediate distance race. This is the first time since my sophomore year at Purdue that I've traveled with an organized club because the group trip thing about killed me. After getting over my team-travel complex, I will say that this is the most fun I've had traveling with a team. Ever.
Okay, on to the race...
Pre-race goals and plan: Relax on the swim, work on keeping my legs fresh for the bike and run. Spin on the bike, keep a comfortable cadence throughout. Run my ass off. Stay competitive. Don't give up.
It was nice to get to the race site early enough to not have to rush through setting up my transition area and getting a short warmup in. I was really glad for the extra time to put on my wetsuit. Wetsuit application is an art that I have not yet mastered. I am pleased to look around to see that others have as much trouble as I during this process (visualize the girl that has one of the guys on her team and jumps up and down while he holds the sides--entertaining). The Vandy team and I make our way down to the waterfront barefoot through a 45-degree pine-needle littered descent. Others doing the same are discussing the few places that such a spectacle can be beheld, that is, where else could you find hundreds of people walking through a forest, barefoot and in wetsuits. We approach the waterfront and have to fight through the crowd to make it to the water in time to do a short warmup and get out before the first wave starts.
The collegiate wave is the second group to go. It's a mass start with men and women. I am pushed to the front by Craig who just smiles and tells me that that's where I need to be. I shrug and go for it. It was the most physical swim I've ever had. The first third, I was mostly sandwiched in a group about six-across, all trying to get position. Somewhere in this jostling, I am smacked in the head repeatedly by some guy who obviously doesn't understand the etiquette and I decide that I don't want a concussion and deliver a sharp elbow to his ribs. He didn't bother me much after that. About this time, I realize that I'm expending much more energy than I should and I try to maneuver to the edge of the group and relax. Somewhere along the way in (last 1/3), I figure out that I've been navigating to the wrong buoy and have to alter my course. I don't know if I lost time on that or not. I'd love to see the path I swam.
When I stand up on shore, I realize what I have just done to my legs and eye the 45-degree slope with much hesitation. I start up the hill, pass a guy, am hoisted by another couple guys up a little ledge, start running towards the transition area, decide that running longer will result in my death, regroup, walk a bit, then jog the rest of the way. Fortunately, the wetsuit didn't hamper T1 much and I head out on the bike.
The first six miles on the bike were miserable. I keep thinking about my goal to spin my way through the bike to save my legs for the run. I am disappointed that I am not able to do so. My stomach briefly thinks about rebelling, my brain was strong enough at this point to override the stomach's thoughts. I found myself struggling through any sort of an incline and even found it difficult to gain speed on the downhills. I managed to pass two women in those early miles. I found out later that, at this point, I was leading the female collegiate race!! It didn't last long. A guy passed me, cheering on the Vandy women. I asked him if they were close. He said no. He was lying. Maria passed me at mile 8.5. I had hoped to hold her off until at least mile 10. Around mile 10, I started to feel better, but I honestly don't remember much about the rest of the ride. I was hurting, I was being passed by men from the next wave, I was considering taking a DNF. However, I was only passed by one more collegiate female. I took this as a good sign.
T2 felt lightening fast. I dropped the bike and helmet, changed shoes, grabbed the hat and race belt and I was out. My time doesn't reflect the speediness that I felt, but it may be progress.
The run: I mentally divided the run into three two-mile sections. The first section, I was finding my legs and they were happy that I wasn't biking any longer. They had not yet discovered what I was going to be asking them to do for the next 4-6 miles, which was to run up and down evil, evil hills. The second two miles, my legs caught on to the game and started rebelling. My brain was no longer strong enough to convince any part of me that what I was doing was a good idea. I see Maria, try to cheer her on, Mac catches me shortly after the turn around. I wave him on, tell him to kick some butt. I don't see Craig and I'm confused. My watch tells me that I'm keeping a good pace. The last two miles were a struggle. My legs decided that they were very angry and started to cramp, my brain decides that I don't want to lose any more spots (I was passed by three collegiate women during the run) and I dig in and try to disconnect all reality from what I am doing. The last hill, a killer, was taken with the idea that I wouldn't look at the top, just put one foot in front of the other. Fortunately, the finish was just over the hill and I didn't have to sprint when I got there. Mac was there rooting me on, which was fantastic because I might have walked in otherwise.
In all, the race was a success. I would have killed for a banana bag at the end. The good news is that I can't imagine making up time on the course. There would have been major trade offs for any changes. I think I went as smart as I could have.
I am so ready for the off-season!
