Julie (my friend) and I were both very nervous at
transition, and setting up took a few minutes longer than expected. Swim warm up was 7:15-7:35am and our wave start
was at 8:12. I wasn’t sure if I should
warm up or not, since I did not want to get cold in this waiting time. But I opted to warm up, and get my wetsuit as
comfortable as possible. They didn't end up 'closing' the swim and making us get out for quite a while, which was great.
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| Julie and I looking very attractive |
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| Focused and nervous! |
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| Starting from a 'treading water' start position |
By the time we got to the start line (in the water), I was
shivering, but excited to get going.
Rachel, Jason, Ava and my Dad (Pops) came to wish me well at the
start.
In the last 3 years, I’ve become more comfortable with open
water swimming and my wetsuit. The
chaos, bubbles, and people panicking around me at the start did not stress me
out. I simply decided to swim around all
these folks, and take a longer course out to the side and stay calm. After a few minutes, I was warm and
comfortable, and felt like I was swimming well and swimming straight. I was trying to intentionally go slow because
this swim was 400m longer than any swim I’d ever done before.
I was pleased when I reached the turn-around point (the yellow buoy), and
tried to pick up speed coming home. I
did not see many green swim caps around me (my wave), but instead saw many light
blue and red caps from the waves in front of me. I took this as a good sign, and swam harder
back to shore.
I exited the water feeling fairly 'with it' (mentally) and thrilled that
I had succeeded in my swim without any problems. I didn’t know my time, but felt good and saw
many bikes left in transition. It turns
out I swam the 1.2 miles at exited to the transition mat in 33:49, 3rd in my age category.
As usual, I had a slow transition to the bike, wanting to
make sure I had everything all set. My
longest ride to date was 43 miles, and the race was 56 miles, so I wanted to
pace myself and settle into a comfortable (easy) pace so I didn’t blow up. The race was 14 miles out, 14 miles back, and
repeat the same out and back. Also, we
had driven the race the day before and it had more hills, more curves, and more
gravel on the road than I liked… so I planned to be safe and stay on my bike.
Loads of people passed me as we climbed up and away from the
lake. I’m a much slower cyclist than
most triathletes, so I expected this and didn’t mind. My friend Julie passed me at some point,
killing it on the long slow climb. I was
excited for her, since this meant she was out of the water and enjoying a
beautiful ride.
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| 14 miles into the ride |
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| Not in any rush as I find food |
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| Pops and Rachel play at park near bike turn-around |
I saw Jason and Pops at the turn-around while the girls
slept in the car, and my Dad seemed very excited for me, which felt great. I was just under an hour for the first 14
miles, just a little slower than expected.
The way back to the lake took me 45 minutes, and felt fun. On the way back out, I started to get less
comfortable. I pulled over a few times
to adjust things, eat food, drink electrolytes properly, use the restroom, add
sunscreen and chamois butter. I started
to feel more isolated as many athletes were now getting further ahead of me.
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| 43 miles in |
Rachel, Jason and Pops gave me hugs at the turn-around, and
I filled my camel back. Rachel was not
happy that I wasn’t staying to play, and cried after me. I cycled away, excited to be on my way
home. My whole goal for the bike was
really just to get through it without having a flat or a crash. I still had 13 miles to go, and it was
getting hotter and windier.
I made it back to transition without peril in a biking time
of 3:40:39. By triathlon standards,
that’s very slow, but I was fine with it and it wasn’t far off from what I
expected. I was psyched that I had biked
that far without any issues, and excited to run. I also saw Julie in transition, and I
consider her to be a really good cyclist, so I felt ok that I had held my own.
Another slow transition, including a bathroom stop and some
food, and I was off.
I knew my legs would feel like jelly after the bike. So I didn’t mind that the first mile felt
slow. I did mind that it felt so hot and
I felt so thirsty. I knew that aid
stations were about every 1.5 miles, and I had intentionally not brought water
with me because I didn't want to deal with carrying anything. I had food in my jersey pocket, and thought I'd be ok without fluids.
Whoops.
I was begging the first aid station to appear, and, while
leaving it, I started to realize that the run would be longer, hotter, and
harder than I intended. Of all three
elements, I was least worried about the run.
I had run 13 miles three times in the last 7 months, and, although all
of those were slow, I knew I could do it.
I said many times during my training ‘I don’t want to drown in the
swim. I don’t want to crash on the bike. I could always walk on the run if I have to.’
But I didn’t really expect to walk the entire half
marathon.
The course was much hillier than I expected. I just couldn't seem to will my body to run any uphill. I could jog flats and downs but each little rise put a stop in my rhythm and hurt me. Somehow the race profile didn’t seem to make
it seem very hilly. I had actually
chosen this course because of the run: an off-road trail around a beautiful
lake. But it was a terrible run course. The actual loop around the lake was 8 miles,
so in order to make it into 13 miles, they added some out-and-back spurs full
of climbs.
At 4 miles, my attitude took a turn for the worse and I wasn't able to stay very positive. I committed to a long, slow, grumpy march. Julie was less than ½ mile
ahead of me, and was all smiles, but I was not smiling. I was frustrated with the course, the heat,
the lack of water, the inability to get running at all.
A super-soaker from a friendly fan creamed my left side and deafened me for a
few moments, but the water did help me press on. The long, slow, hot march continued. Everywhere I looked, people looked tired and
hot. Barely anybody was running. The finish seemed very, very far away.
At mile 6 I decided I needed some caffeine, and took down a
GU Roctane gel. I had trained with these
near the end of runs, and tolerated them well.
Not this time. My
stomach started rejecting the idea of anything.
I walk/jogged my way to mile 9, and was given a water bottle to take
with me. The aid station people asked me
if I was ok, and I knew I couldn’t have looked good.
My legs were not hurt.
I had no injuries. Part of me
felt like I had lots in me to run. But I
couldn’t seem to get it going. Every
uphill stopped me from running and put me back to walking. My stomach didn’t like the idea of food,
water, or bouncing around. I carried the water bottle with me but I doubt I drank much of it.
I saw my support crew at mile 11 and felt bad to make them
wait in the heat for so long. I knew my
goal of finishing in under 7 hours was not possible, and I wanted it all to be
over. Jason walked beside me for a
second and I asked him if there was any way we could drive home to sleep in a
bed because I really didn’t want to try and camp again that night. I wanted to sleep. Preferably, in my bed. Without a child on my body.
I appreciated the cheering from Pops, Rachel, Jason and even
Ava as I suffered on to the finish. My
friend Julie had come in just under 7 hours and I was very proud of her. My time was 7:09:55. Not a time to brag about, but I was still
very proud to cross the finish line.
I was out of it.
Jason hugged me and I cried. Then
I had to sit down because I felt faint.
For a while I couldn’t stand without feeling light-headed. It felt like I had heat exhaustion and I was
decently sunburnt.
Eventually I was able to eat, drink, and squeeze myself into
our crowded car and get back home.
In the days following the race, I had very little muscle
soreness. Mentally, I was trashed and
relieved to be done with the race and the training. Time to put more energy back into my husband,
girls, household, and general organization.
I checked an item off my bucket list. I’m very proud of the process that this race
put me through. I’m proud of all the
training I did. I feel confident in
myself as a fit person again, and back to my before-kids body (mostly). I am not particularly proud of the race time,
and I’m disappointed in the run. But I
finished. And for me, that’s really
exciting.
Thanks to my amazing husband Jason and my girls for putting
up with my schedule for the last few months.
Jason has spent many more hours solo with the girls while I went out to
ride, run, or swim. Thanks to my
swimming group, friends that rode with me, and people that gave me advice along
the way. Thanks to friends who watched
the girls so I could sneak out for some training, especially during the times
this year when Jason has been out of town and I needed to escape and exercise!
People keep asking me what's next and when I’m going to do the full
Ironman. Right now, Olympic distance triathlons seem fun, reasonable, and don’t take over my
life. Plus, I have many other goals to
pursue, such as hiking, traveling, and, hopefully, adventure racing and
adventuring with my family and friends.
But two races are 'next'.
In the middle of August, I will do the Pikes Peak Ascent Half Marathon. I intend to hike it, just to check off this 14er, because it's a long (13.1 mile) hike, and this way there will be people cheering and aid stations along the way. I will have to do some running, hiking and altitude training prep to be able to complete this challenging route.
And at the end of September, Jason will race his longest race to date: the Bear 100 mile run in Utah. So for the next 2.5 months, it will essentially be Jason's 'turn' to train and I will support him as best as possible while he trains for this (ridiculous?!) epic, amazing, crazy goal.
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