Undaunted, I anxiously await the start of the Stumpy Creek International Triathlon. Since I now have one tri under my belt, I feel fairly confident about what I need to do. I've arrayed all my gear next to my bike, reminded myself where it is in the transition zone (the better to find it in the rush following the swim), and caught up with a few friends in the starting area.
My group, the masters novices, will start in the fourth wave, along with all the women, and all the other specialty groups -- clydesdales, regular novices, relay, and aquabike. It's a big group, perhaps 70 or 80 people out of the 197 in the race. The waves start three minutes apart, and when our group is called into the water, I notice that folks seem to be taking their sweet time. We're wading in from a boat ramp, and the race organizers have placed a carpet on it so you don't have to walk on the rough concrete. But the bottleneck means we may not get to the starting line in time. Finally I just walk down the rough concrete next to the carpet, passing dozens of swimmers in an effort to get to the start in time. I get there just as the countdown begins, but I'm still fairly far back in the pack of swimmers.
Finally, we're off, and I try to start swimming efficiently. I've never swum in such crowded circumstances, so I find myself bouncing off arms and legs with annoying frequency. Even though there is no wind and the lake was calm when we started, the swimmers have kicked up a significant chop. I forget all about my swim form and just try to keep swimming in a straight line and avoid the other swimmers. I'm not particularly successful with either, as this map of my swim demonstrates:
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| There may be some Garmin error there, but still... |
Then halfway through the swim a horrifying thought occurs to me. I had confidently set up my gear before the race thanks to my vast experience of one triathlon, but I'd forgotten to do one thing: Lube up my shoes. To save time in transitions, many triathletes don't wear socks for the ride and run. To avoid blisters, they put tons of lubricant (My lube of choice: Chamois Butt'r) inside their shoes prior to the event. I had neglected to do this. Visions of shredded feet began to ply their way into my brain. Then I remember that I do have some socks in my bag; I'll just have to dig them out during the transition.
For now, there's nothing to do but swim. It looks like my friend Hope is swimming right next to me, alternating between freestyle and breast stroke. It turns out it wasn't her, but she gives me motivation to keep up the pace. I start passing some swimmers in blue caps from the previous wave: I'm not the slowest swimmer out there! Finally, the finish area is in sight. The last hundred yards or so are directly into blinding sunlight, but somehow I find my way to the finish and run up the boat ramp as fast as I can manage. My friend Lori Ackerman is there to snap a photo:
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| Not quite the last out of the water |
I run quickly for the bike, rip my cap off, and dig madly through my bag for socks. I know they're in there...or are they? Finally I find them, at the bottom of the bag (of course). I carefully dry my feet and pull the socks on. I figure they cost me an extra 30 seconds or so but they were probably worth it given that my feet would have been hammered if I didn't have them.
Before I know it I am out on the ride. The A plan called for an ambitious 20 mph average on the ride, but I knew that the first part of the ride was hilly, so I wanted to complete the first 5 miles at 19 mph. Just one mile in is one of the bigger hills of the ride, and my pace slows to well below 19. But once I get to the top, I see steady gains on my cycle computer. I'm also passing lots of people. I pass Michelle on her hybrid bike and give her a yell of encouragement.
At one point I get stuck behind a van that is stuck behind a row of slower cyclists. The van is being very courteous by not zipping by all the cyclists, but it's slowing me down. Finally I make a gutsy pass of the van and all the bikes by moving into the left lane. It's a "no-pass" zone but I can clearly see there's no oncoming traffic. My biggest worry is that the van would decide to pass the bikes just as I pass it, but fortunately that doesn't happen.
I get to Mile 5 with an average speed of 18.7, which isn't bad considering the 312 feet of climbing in this section. The next 5 miles are nearly as hilly, and I only improve to 18.8. I know it's supposed to flatten out around mile 9, so I'm really hoping to pick up speed. Finally, it does flatten a bit and I gear up, trying to take advantage. I'm still passing cyclists, but not quite as regularly as I had been earlier. I have 3 GUs in my pouch, and I try to eat one whenever the road conditions permit, followed by some water. The plan was to finish my water before I get to the aid station at Mile 14, so I can ditch my water bottle and take the bottle they hand out. But before I know it I'm at Mile 14 and I still have a half bottle. Since the ride is just 27 miles, I decide to skip the handout and keep my bottle. Pace for Miles 10-15: 20.6 mph.
The next section includes some long, gradual downhills where I can just open up and fly. They aren't steep enough that I can't keep up with the pedals, and there are long stretches where I clock over 25 mph. Awesome. Pace for Miles 15-20: 22.2 mph.
Heading into the final 7 miles, I know there will be more climbing, and I just try to remind myself not to push too hard. My average pace for the whole ride is now over 20 mph, but I don't want to fall into the trap of trying to maintain that while killing my chances at a decent run. I watch my average fall back a bit -- 19.9, 19.8. Ahead, I see there are several cars backed up at an intersection where I need to turn right. They are too close to the shoulder for me to pass them on the right. Should I just stop? Another rider catches up from behind -- is this someone I had just passed, or some other rider? Finally the cars start moving and I don't have to stop, although I probably lost a bit of time slowing down for them. As we round the corner, the other rider passes me. I soon realize he's moving faster than I want to go, so I let him go on ahead.
I take it easy on the hills, knowing there's one last downhill before we get to the transition area. Also, the road here is freakishly bumpy. Why even bother paving it if you are going to have an incessant pattern of lumps and ridges? I decide to call this section of highway the "Waffle Iron." It's like riding over a rumble strip. Finally, I'm heading down the final hill, but I can't go too fast because there are also runners on the course at this point. I end up finishing the ride with an average pace of 19.6 mph, in a time of 1:22:37. That's closer to my A goal (1:21) than my B goal (1:25), so I'll definitely take it!
As I dismount, I find that it's quite hard for me to run. Everything just feels awkward. I've felt this way before in training, but today's it's much more extreme. I can tell the run is going to be difficult. I wonder whether I'll even have a shot at my B goal of running 8:00 per mile.
I put away my bike, lace up my shoes, and head out for my run. The transition doesn't seem slow, but I end up with a slow time here, 2:09. I was actually slower than T1, when I had to put on socks. Maybe this is just because I'm not able to run very fast. I look down at my watch and see that my pace is actually around 10 minutes per mile. Hopefully once I find my stride I'll be moving a little faster. Amazingly, no one seems to be passing me.
I do manage to speed up, and when I pass the Mile 1 marker, my watch reads 7:55. Not bad! Unfortunately my watch is out of sync with the official markers, and my GPS doesn't register that first mile until 8:22. I decide I'm going to walk through all the water stations to make sure I get plenty to drink. By now the temperature is in the mid-80s, and there's not a lot of shade on the run. Lots of people are walking. I see speedster Amy Krakauer finishing her second loop of the run and even she looks to be struggling. I make it through Mile 2 in 8:05, but Mile 3 will feature a giant hill. I make it up the hill without walking and head down towards the second loop, where Lori gets another photo:
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| Trust me, I look a lot better than I'm feeling here! |
My time for the whole race is 2:54:48. I beat my B goal of 3 hours and I'm not far from my A goal of 2:45. Wow. That was hard.
I try to watch my friends finish but it's tough figuring out when they are going to arrive, and I need to rehydrate and refuel. As it turns out, I'm the first-place Novice Master finisher, beating the second place finisher by a comfortable 14 minutes. I actually top all the novices, Master or not. If I had signed up as an age-grouper, however, I would have been middle-of-the-pack, 8th out of 19. So there is definitely room for improvement.
But for now I'm happy to take my place on the podium!
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| No, I wasn't the only novice master -- I was first out of 6 in my group |
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| I believe there is one last pickle at the lower left... |
Will I do another tri? Probably, but I don't think I'll train quite as extensively as I did for this one. Running is definitely my first love. But this race was an interesting challenge, and a lot of fun. I'm going to keep swimming and biking in addition to running, with one important caveat: I'm not going to train in a pool. Ever. I don't enjoy it, so I might as well not do it. But tris, and open-water swims? I like them just fine!
Details of yesterday's race are below.
Official results
I love your recaps! Not quite the A time you were gunning for but even given your injury that might have to do more with the temp than anything else. Also it sounds like you managed the challenges very intelligently. Fantastic!
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