Just 24 hours ago, I was finishing the hottest half marathon I've ever run. Hell, it was my hottest run, period. Yet, I persevered the 90+ degree heat, and made it to the end to complete my first ever Ironman 70.3!
My race plan had a target of six hours to finish my first half Ironman: I'd do the 1.2 mile swim in about 45 minutes, the 56 mile bike in 3 hours and the 13.1 mile run in 2 hours. That'd leave me with 15 minutes for transition times and for leaks on the run pace and still bring me in under six hours.
The week leading up to the race was an unintentionally severe taper. I had two big work projects land on the same week, which had me sleeping less than 5 hours a night from Monday through Thursday, and a flourish of 28 hours at the keyboard Thursday and Friday alone. I kept assuring myself I'd get my frustrations out on the course, and sure enough, that was a help come race day.
The Swim
My wave (men 40-44) took off at 6:38am in a warm (75 degree) Russian River. Compared to my previous tri, the Escape from Alcatraz, where the water was just 58 degrees, the river felt positively balmy. Didn't stop me from wearing my wetsuit, though, so I could take advantage of the extra buoyancy.
As we waited in the deep water for the horn to sound, I got a chance to admire the scenery, looking upriver to the two bridges we'd swim under. The sun hadn't yet come up over the hills, and there was a beautiful mist rising from the surface of the river providing a little blanket of fog for us to swim through.
Then the horn sounded and all enjoyment of the scenery ended abruptly when two minutes into the swim I got a foot to the face knocking my goggles off, I stopped to readjust them and got bumped into/run over by a couple guys from behind (totally expected) and when I finally slipped into a nice steady rhythm, I noticed just how narrow the swim course was. It was impossible to get more than a couple feet away from anyone at any time, unless you wanted to fall way off the back.
About a third of the way up the out-and-back course, we passed under the second bridge, and shortly thereafter got into about 3.5 feet of water. As I was swimming along in half-foggy goggles, I was startled to see shapes looming above me before realizing it was some of my fellow age-groupers actually wading through the water! I tentatively put my feet down on the rocky river bank and waded alongside them (was this legal? was this smart? was this tiring my legs prematurely? was this dangerous?) before dropping back into my freestyle for the remainder of the swim.
The turnaround for the swim was just over half-way, and while the current of the river was negligible thanks to the dam at Johnson's Beach where we started, I could swear my swimming was faster coming back to the beach. I touched down at the swim out and quickly scampered to my bike, making it out of T1 just 46:06 after the race started. My race plan was holding!
The Bike
After a short steep climb away from the beach, the first five miles of the ride is nice and flat. I was feeling good about the swim and my legs felt strong for the bike, I just knew I had to keep some in reserve for the run at the end. I'd broken the bike course into thirds and knew if I could hit my targets on the hour, I'd stick to the race plan.
Over the first five miles, thanks to my aero bars, I averaged over 23 mph, giving me some ground to lose on the rollers of Westside Road. We turned off River Rd and began the initial climb onto Westside and about a mile and a half into the twisty rollers, that's when it happened: just seconds ahead of me, an oak tree fell across the road, pinning two triathletes underneath it.
You can read my separate post on being one of the first on the scene of the tree fall, but for this race report, suffice to say I spent about 5 minutes at the crash scene before things look like they'd stabilized and I was relieved by a fellow triathlete so I could push on.
I proceeded to mount up and pedaled quickly away, realizing that if I'd only been a few seconds faster on the swim or in T1 or hadn't sat up to take in some liquid in the first 5 miles, that could've been me under the tree. Of course, thinking like that will quickly make you crazy, so I continued to push on. At about mile 9, I came across the first spectators since the crash scene and I stopped to tell them there was a tree across the road pinning two cyclists at milepost 1.5 of Westside and please call 911. Whether or not they did, I'm not sure, but by the time I got to mile 17, a CHP car was flying the other direction with it's lights flashing. The calvary was on its way.
Adrenaline must've been on my side after the crash, because I made my target of 19 miles in the first hour of riding, and then I made it to the 38-mile mark in 1:45. The steep climb on Chalk Hill Road at the 45-mile mark, which seemed so big back in April when I recon'd the route, was relatively easy and from there it was a quick downhill to T2. Even though I'd forgotten my gels in the hotel room (DUH!) and only managed to choke down half a Clif bar on the ride to supplement my energy drinks, I was feeling pretty good.
After all, I'd finished the ride in 2:54:53, still on track for my race plan!
The Run
Ugh, the run. My legs felt wobbly coming off the bike into transition, and when I got to my transition spot, I could already feel the heat was going to suck. How I managed to piddle away 5:48 in T2 is a mystery, but poof! there went some of my cushion for a six-hour finish.
I pushed out onto the run course and the first two miles seemed to go pretty well. I was averaging 8:30 pace, but I knew it was unsustainable given the heat and how my reserves felt.
I slowed to a walk on the first big uphill and resolved to run wherever the road was flat or downhill. If I could just manage a 10-minute mile over the course, I could make my goal!
But I could feel my legs start to tighten, and I spent more time walking than running as I tried to coax as much out of my quads and calves as I could without seizing them up.
A highlight for me was seeing my friend Dan at the aid station at mile 4 (and mile 9). He's done several Ironmans and was/is an inspiration to me as I've started doing triathlons. He checked in with me as he handed me Gatorade and water, walked with me through the aid station and told me to pace myself (unlike the yahoos on the side of the road screaming "push it!").
Another highlight was seeing all the other SVTC club members out on the course and giving/getting encouragement and high-fives as we passed each other. I'm so glad I got the SVTC tri top to wear in competition to stand out from all the other age-groupers sloughing along.
The turnaround loop at La Crema winery was beautiful what with the ponds and vines, if only there'd been some shade out there! And the run back was more of a fast-walk/slow-jog. More encouragement from Dan at mile 9. A fellow SVTCer passed me at mile 9.5 with a "less than 4 miles to go, let's run it in!"
I was melting on the run, yet thankful my day had started at 6:38 so I could avoid the heat that the last waves would be enduring two hours later (at my pace). I pushed myself as hard as I could, knowing my two race buddies, Neil and Thom, were behind me, trying to catch me.
By mile 10, I knew I wouldn't make my six hour goal. I was averaging 11 minutes per mile in my combined run/walk approach. My quads and calves and hamstrings were thisclose to seizing up on me. I was gulping down water and gaterade and cola and gels at each station to try and fuel me to the finish.
I managed to run the last mile in, cheered on by the crowds and their cowbells. And when I made it to the finish chute, I knew there was nothing to stop me from making it to the end of my first Ironman 70.3
The Finish
When I heard the announcer say my name halfway down the chute, I couldn't help but crack a huge smile at the achievement. I crossed the line, arms outstretched, sweating to beat the band with just shy of 6:21 showing on the race clock.
I'd strung together a 2:26 run to finish my first half ironman in a time of 6:12:58
I've already started going through the if-onlys in analyzing this race, and to me that's a sign I'll be doing more of them. (maybe even a full Ironman?)
But for now I'm trying to simply savor the accomplishment. I've got the mettle to do it, and the medal to prove it.
Final Vineman 70.3 Stats
Swim + T1= 46:06
Bike = 2:54:53
T2 = 5:48
Run = 2:26:09
Total = 6:12:58
Rankings:
Overall 1040 of 2286
Men 779 of 1517
Age Group (40-44) 158 of 320
Showing posts with label transition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transition. Show all posts
Monday, July 20, 2009
Saturday, November 8, 2008
San Francisco Triathlon (olympic) race report
I concluded my 2008 race season by competing in the Olympic distance 2008 San Francisco Triathlon at Treasure Island today.In all, given the fact that for the last month I've been sick with the cold and flu more than I've been healthy, I'm rather pleased at my 3:11:50 finish time (the picture shows the overall time... I started 30 minutes after the first wave)
My splits (as seen on the full SFTri results list):
- 1.5km swim: 37:43
- T1: 4:20
- 40km bike: 1:23:41
- T2: 3:24
- 10km run: 1:02:41 (yes, I walked stretches of it)
THE SETUP
The skies were overcast this morning, with a fog hanging over the city of San Francisco, but not covering Treasure Island itself. Temperatures were cool (mid 50s?), ideal for spending multiple hours on the course. The sun was trying to peak through the clouds, but without much success.
Thom and I had picked up our race packets the night before, so we were able to go directly to the Transition area to rack our bikes, set up our gear and get marked with our race numbers. The transition area was plenty big enough, and the racks actually were marked with our race numbers, so there wasn't any jockeying to be had for the spots closest to bike in/out (thankfully).
As an aside, I couldn't believe how nervous/anxious/tight I felt before the start of the race today. While I thought I was pretty calm, my stomach was doing flip-flops and I felt tight all over. Very unlike me to get so worked up over a race like that, but then again, this was my first season racing and my longest one yet. I swallowed the butterflies and pressed on.
THE SWIM LEG
Then it was down to the waterfront to start the swim. Two waves went off before us, so we were able to see how they swam the triangle course (two laps) and listen to the announcer chide the swimmers for swimming outside the midway markers in addition to the corner markers (you just have to stay outside the corners).
The swim start is a "bobbing" start which means instead of leaping from a platform or running into the water, you just swim out to the designated buoy line and float there until the horn sounds marking the start of your wave. Having learned my lesson from prior triathlons, I made sure I started from the far edge of the wave so there was a minimum of swimming on top of others or getting clobbered by others. The water temperature was a chilly 58 degrees, but with my wet suit and neoprene cap I was actually quite warm and with my open water swim practices at SF Aquatic Park (closer to the Golden Gate) in colder water this felt quite nice.
With only 71 guys in our wave and 1.5km to swim, it actually felt like I was swimming alone for all but a few pinch points rounding the markers. Once I was making my way past the final marker and heading for the steps out to transition, I got a shot of adrenaline with the knowledge my most feared part of the triathlon was almost over!
Once I made the stairs it was time to try to engage my legs again, which was no easy feat. All I can say is thank goodness there were plenty of volunteers on the stairs to help us swimmers out of the water. If not for them, I'd have tumbled backwards into the water as I lost my footing on the second step. But, they pushed me in the right direction and before you knew it, I was trotting through the transition area to my spot to get ready for the bike.
THE BIKE LEG
It didn't seem like I spent that much time in transition (but it was 4+ minutes), and then I was running my bike to the mount line before saddling up to set out on the first of six laps around the island. Talking with one of the elite racers the night before, I'd gotten the advice to keep track of laps by tearing off six bits of Power Bar (you know how sticky they are) and affixing them to your handlebars. Then, as you complete a lap, you peel off one of the Power Bar bits and eat it and know how many laps are left.
On each lap, there were 26 corners to navigate (21 of them 90 degree turns and one 180 degree turnaround) which made for quite a technical course. All but a quarter mile of the course was flat, but there was a nasty bit of a hill leading to the turnaround and it seemed to get steeper with each lap completed. Throw in the fact that the condition of the pavement itself wasn't too grand and some of the corners were surprisingly dirty with rocks and sand and you had quite the recipe for a challenging course.
My pace was significantly slower than prior races where I'd easily stayed above 20mph. This time around, I averaged slightly less than 18mph, and I attribute that to the fact I took the corners cautiously given the conditions and didn't do a good job of accelerating out of the corners anyway.
I was more than happy to climb the hill for the last time and then bomb on down to the entrance to the transition area to start the run.
THE RUN LEG
My T2 was a minute faster than T1 and aside from having some troubles transferring my Garmin from the bike to my wrist, it was rather smooth.
I hit the pavement knowing I had three laps of out-and-back flat running along the eastern shore of Treasure Island. Thanks to my training for the half marathon, I actually felt a lot better running than I thought I was going to after the previous two legs of the race.
The first lap went pretty quickly although I could feel my energy plummet as I worked through the second mile. When it came time to do the turnaround closest to the finish, I got confused and almost turned to early. If not for the helpful cry of a spectator saying NO!NO!NO!NO! I'd have failed to know to keep running through the gates by the finish line so as to cross the mat at the turnaround. When I emerged from the gates I gave her a running ovation as thanks for the help.
As I neared mile three, I could feel my calves start to tighten up, so I slowed to a fast walk for a bit and tried to zen my way back to relaxation. I took on quite a bit of endurance drink to try to help the situation. It helped marginally but for the first time ever in a race, I worried that I might cramp up so bad that I couldn't finish.
Nevertheless, I pressed on in my running with a few walking spells and made it to mile five before my quads joined the about-to-cramp party. At that point, the finish wasn't too far away, so I picked a hare in front of me and closed the gap to beat him by six seconds at the line.
THE FINISH
I can't recall having been so happy to finish a race as I was today. Yes, the half marathon was an accomplishment, but that was only two hours out on the circuit. I'd just put in three-plus hours at race pace and I could feel it. I had no blisters or anything like that, it was just my leg muscles were so spent and my body was tired.
The apres-finish setup was good with lots of yummy food, plenty of water and Joint Juice and, the best part: free 10-minute massages! While I was on the massage table getting my legs worked over, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
The Tri-California folks put on a great event, well administered and staffed with plenty of volunteers. My only complaint was about the condition of the pavement on the bike ride, but I think that's a bit beyond their realm of responsibility.
LESSONS LEARNED:
- Accelerate out of the corners on the bike
- Feed/hydrate consistently throughout the bike and run legs
- Relax and enjoy the entire experience
If you'd asked me a year ago whether I'd be doing a triathlon in SF Bay in November, let alone an olympic distrance tri, I'd have denied I'd be crazy enough to do such a thing.
I'm glad I was crazy enough to do it. It was a ton of fun and feels like a real milestone in my getting in shape via extreme sports.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Tri for Fun Pleasanton race report
Triathlon number two, the Tri for Fun of Pleasanton, CA, is under my belt, and I think I'm hooked. For this race, there were no timing chips distributed, only a clock overhead at the finish line so you can eyeball your time and subtract out your wave start to get the total time.
I managed to finish the 400m swim, 11 mile ride and 3.1 mile run in 1:12:33 which is better than the 1:15 I was aiming for, but I think with a little more work, I can pull it closer to the 1:05 mark by the time the August race rolls around.
I wore my Timex watch to capture the splits plus or minus a second or two and they fell out like this:
The bad: My T1 time sucked, plain and simple. I didn't even have to wrestle with a wet suit! I do know I spent a good 30 seconds trying to get my tri shirt on, which is something I struggled with in my first race, too. I've got to work on my run pace to get that down (no walking!) and make sure I leave more of me on the race course. I again crossed the finish line (overtaking someone in the last 100 yds) with some energy left in the tank. Better planning will mean I push harder longer and bring my times down.
For next time: Several things I plan to do before the next triathlon on August 16, one of which is already done:
I'm also so very proud of a couple of my triathlete coworkers, Linda and Dimple. Not two weeks after dismounting at the end of the 570+ mile ALC bike ride from SF to LA, Linda showed up in Pleasanton with a strong showing in the race. And Dimple notched another achievement by competing in and completing her first triathlon. I'll find out Monday if Dimple's going to become a repeat racer like Linda and I. In any case it's great to work with folks like these.
Now, it's time to focus on making it to the summit of Mt Whitney on July 11.
I managed to finish the 400m swim, 11 mile ride and 3.1 mile run in 1:12:33 which is better than the 1:15 I was aiming for, but I think with a little more work, I can pull it closer to the 1:05 mark by the time the August race rolls around.
I wore my Timex watch to capture the splits plus or minus a second or two and they fell out like this:
- Swim: 8:08
- T1: 3:00 (!)
- bike: 31:25 (avg 21.1 mph)
- T2: 1:40
- run: 28:20 (9:40 per mi)
The bad: My T1 time sucked, plain and simple. I didn't even have to wrestle with a wet suit! I do know I spent a good 30 seconds trying to get my tri shirt on, which is something I struggled with in my first race, too. I've got to work on my run pace to get that down (no walking!) and make sure I leave more of me on the race course. I again crossed the finish line (overtaking someone in the last 100 yds) with some energy left in the tank. Better planning will mean I push harder longer and bring my times down.
For next time: Several things I plan to do before the next triathlon on August 16, one of which is already done:
- swim: work on the open-water swim and sighting techniques
- T1: I stopped by Sports Basement yesterday and used my 20% off coupon to buy an Orca one-piece tri suit and a race number belt to chop a good 40 seconds off my T1
- bike: install my aerobars and train with them
- T2: practice dismounting technique
- run: work on my increasing pace and continue to increase endurance
I'm also so very proud of a couple of my triathlete coworkers, Linda and Dimple. Not two weeks after dismounting at the end of the 570+ mile ALC bike ride from SF to LA, Linda showed up in Pleasanton with a strong showing in the race. And Dimple notched another achievement by competing in and completing her first triathlon. I'll find out Monday if Dimple's going to become a repeat racer like Linda and I. In any case it's great to work with folks like these.
Now, it's time to focus on making it to the summit of Mt Whitney on July 11.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
my first triathlon - setup to swim to T1
Now that I can call myself a triathlete, I'm sharing the experience of my first race (ICE Breaker Triathlon at Granite Bay, CA on April 13, 2008) so maybe you, the reader, can learn from what went right and what didn't go so well in my race.
Today, I cover my experience all the way from checking in at the registration table through the first transition (T1). (see also: the bike and T2 and the run and the finish)
All the advanced preparation for the race went as well as could be expected.
My friend Thom and I got to the registration at just about 7am. Upon picking up my race packet, I was reminded that I'm 38 years old by the woman verifying my registration (thanks), and I was assigned number 141 for my first triathlon. Thom got number 140, so I think there's something about alphabetical order in the number assignments (our names are similar through the first two letters of the last name).
We were in the transition area well ahead of most folks, so much so that we had our pick of the transition area to set up our stuff. Of course, the best racks -- closest to the bike in/out chutes and in the middle of it all -- were reserved for tri club members. It pays to pay for membership, so it seems. Of the unreserved racks, we chose a rack that was close to the Run exit thinking that our ability to ride bikes in the transition area made sense to be as far from the bike in/bike out chutes without suffering much of a time penalty for doing so.
Time to set up my transition area: I hung my bike by its seat, spread out a towel and laid out my bike shoes (and socks) by my running shoes (and socks), and put my sun glasses inside my bike helmet. Last thing to arrange: two packets of Gu and a water bottle full of Power Bar replenishment drink. Because I didn't have a number belt (will get one before the next race), I pinned my bib to my tri top and laid it across my bike's handlebars to change into after the swim.
With my transition areas set up to my liking, we still had over 90 minutes to wait around for the start. I took my bike out for a spin to make sure all was working okay (it was) and to burn off some of the nervous energy that had filled me up since waking up early this morning. Once I'd returned from my short two-mile ride, I walked the transition area looking at people's bikes and setups to get a glimpse of what might come if I decide to keep doing this.
There was a "Baby ICE Breaker" race (basically, half the distance of ours) that started at 8am, so I watched all the racers work through their swim and then run the third of a mile from the lake up to the transition area.
It would seem the smart peeps brought flip-flops to stage by the shore of the lake so they could run up the shore without the jagged-rock-to-the-sole problem. Needless to say, I wasn't one of these planful people. In any case, there were still lots of bare-footed folks running up, so I took heart that it'd be okay for me.
What surprised me watching the Baby ICE Breaker was how many folks were still completely in their wet suits (farmer johns or full suits) as they entered the transition area. Granted, these were newbies (like me), but, as was confirmed for me later, taking your suit off while you're still in the water is the way to go. The last thing you want to do is run up the beach, legs pumping and expanding in the wet suit, while the suit dries to your skin. Yes, these folks struggled mightily in T1 to get out of their wet suits and into their bike gear.
So, once the Baby ICE Breaker racers were out on the bike course, I put my wet suit half way on (legs only) and walked the third-of-a-mile to the lake shore to get ready to race.
By now my nerves were in high gear. The markers delineating the triangular half-mile course looked VERY far out in the water from shore. I waded in and started swimming around to get acclimated. After swimming in the Bay last weekend, the water in Folsom Lake felt positively warm (63 degrees).
It was just a matter of waiting for my wave to take off at 9:14am.
The first wave (29 years old and younger) took off at 9am, providing me an opportunity to see how far out folks ran before starting to swim (about 75 feet). The second wave (30-34 years old) took off at 9:07am and my heart was now in my throat knowing I was next.
As we milled about the start area (you had to be standing on shore), the first swimmers started climbing out of the water after just 9 minutes to do the swim (wow!). I knew I'd take a lot longer, and kind of got lost in thought about my own swim and didn't pay attention to where I was standing in my own wave's staging for the race.
When the countdown from 10 started, I realized I was not in the best position on shore: in the middle of the course, up front, with racers four deep behind me. Oops.
The starter yelled GO! and we were off, running into the water. I think I ran in a little farther than I should have before diving forward, but nerves and adrenaline were in high gear. When I finally dove in, I started to freestyle as best I could, considering I was surrounded by flailing hands and feet and arms and legs.
That's when things got dicey for me. If I wasn't swimming up and over the guys in front of me (heels to the face and shoulder), there was some guy swimming up on top of me from behind. I couldn't seem to get to an outside lane to get clear of traffic, and I wasn't relaxing (by any means) into my strong. Truth be told, I was a little panicked, and doubt flashed through my mind whether I was doing the right thing.
The first 200 yards of the swim were miserable going.
Then, our pack of swimmers strung out a bit and a gap opened up. I was able to make it to the outside of the pack and start to focus on relaxing during my stroke. I kept stroking and breathing, breathing and stroking, crawling through the water on the way to the first turn marker.
Because the level of the lake was so low, the first marker was in shallow (thigh-deep) water. Everyone took the liberty of standing up on bottom and running/wading around the marker. This change of posture was a nice respite from swimming for me, and when I dove into the water on the far side of the marker, I was getting more confident in my swimming, but GEEZ, it was a long swim. I'd only really done pool swimming, and since I'm not an expert at the flip turn, there's breaks built into my swimming.
Not out here in the lake. I did a little bit of backstroking to get a handle on my breathing. I never was able to get better than breathing every stroke. It was a tough slog.
By the time I was on the leg leading into shore, I was more than ready to get the hell out of the water. I was just so over the swim. My motivation for swimming the last 200 yards was "this is the only leg you can die on (by drowning) so just get it over with!" It was so inspirational to see the guys ahead of me pop up in the shallows that I got a burst of energy and swam quickly to where I could touch bottom with my hands. As I ran up the shore, I stopped and sat down in ankle-deep water to peel off my wet suit. It was a little bit of a struggle to get it off my legs (I'd put Body Glide on my calves to help with the process), and yes, it added time to my swim leg, but I more than made up for the delay via a quick T1 to the bike.
Wet suit in hand, I bade good riddance to the swim. My worst leg was over, now on to the fun stuff.
But before that could start, I had to run up the third-of-a-mile across the sandy shore to the transition area. During my run, I passed a couple folks who were faster swimmers than me, and huffing and puffing, I made it to my towel. Hey, Thom's bike was still in the transition area... I coulda sworn he'd be a better swimmer than me.
I rinsed off my feet, slipped into my shirt and put on my helmet/glasses/shoes before downing a Gu and drinking some carbo-water.
As I was about to grab my bike, Thom made it into T1. Turns out during the swim he started coughing up blood and had to grab onto a boat and get help. That explains why I was out of the water first.
I wished him luck and clipped into my bike to start my favorite leg of the race.
And I'll tell you about that leg in my next post.
Today, I cover my experience all the way from checking in at the registration table through the first transition (T1). (see also: the bike and T2 and the run and the finish)
All the advanced preparation for the race went as well as could be expected.
My friend Thom and I got to the registration at just about 7am. Upon picking up my race packet, I was reminded that I'm 38 years old by the woman verifying my registration (thanks), and I was assigned number 141 for my first triathlon. Thom got number 140, so I think there's something about alphabetical order in the number assignments (our names are similar through the first two letters of the last name).
We were in the transition area well ahead of most folks, so much so that we had our pick of the transition area to set up our stuff. Of course, the best racks -- closest to the bike in/out chutes and in the middle of it all -- were reserved for tri club members. It pays to pay for membership, so it seems. Of the unreserved racks, we chose a rack that was close to the Run exit thinking that our ability to ride bikes in the transition area made sense to be as far from the bike in/bike out chutes without suffering much of a time penalty for doing so.
Time to set up my transition area: I hung my bike by its seat, spread out a towel and laid out my bike shoes (and socks) by my running shoes (and socks), and put my sun glasses inside my bike helmet. Last thing to arrange: two packets of Gu and a water bottle full of Power Bar replenishment drink. Because I didn't have a number belt (will get one before the next race), I pinned my bib to my tri top and laid it across my bike's handlebars to change into after the swim.
With my transition areas set up to my liking, we still had over 90 minutes to wait around for the start. I took my bike out for a spin to make sure all was working okay (it was) and to burn off some of the nervous energy that had filled me up since waking up early this morning. Once I'd returned from my short two-mile ride, I walked the transition area looking at people's bikes and setups to get a glimpse of what might come if I decide to keep doing this.
There was a "Baby ICE Breaker" race (basically, half the distance of ours) that started at 8am, so I watched all the racers work through their swim and then run the third of a mile from the lake up to the transition area.
It would seem the smart peeps brought flip-flops to stage by the shore of the lake so they could run up the shore without the jagged-rock-to-the-sole problem. Needless to say, I wasn't one of these planful people. In any case, there were still lots of bare-footed folks running up, so I took heart that it'd be okay for me.
What surprised me watching the Baby ICE Breaker was how many folks were still completely in their wet suits (farmer johns or full suits) as they entered the transition area. Granted, these were newbies (like me), but, as was confirmed for me later, taking your suit off while you're still in the water is the way to go. The last thing you want to do is run up the beach, legs pumping and expanding in the wet suit, while the suit dries to your skin. Yes, these folks struggled mightily in T1 to get out of their wet suits and into their bike gear.
So, once the Baby ICE Breaker racers were out on the bike course, I put my wet suit half way on (legs only) and walked the third-of-a-mile to the lake shore to get ready to race.
By now my nerves were in high gear. The markers delineating the triangular half-mile course looked VERY far out in the water from shore. I waded in and started swimming around to get acclimated. After swimming in the Bay last weekend, the water in Folsom Lake felt positively warm (63 degrees).
It was just a matter of waiting for my wave to take off at 9:14am.
The first wave (29 years old and younger) took off at 9am, providing me an opportunity to see how far out folks ran before starting to swim (about 75 feet). The second wave (30-34 years old) took off at 9:07am and my heart was now in my throat knowing I was next.
As we milled about the start area (you had to be standing on shore), the first swimmers started climbing out of the water after just 9 minutes to do the swim (wow!). I knew I'd take a lot longer, and kind of got lost in thought about my own swim and didn't pay attention to where I was standing in my own wave's staging for the race.
When the countdown from 10 started, I realized I was not in the best position on shore: in the middle of the course, up front, with racers four deep behind me. Oops.
The starter yelled GO! and we were off, running into the water. I think I ran in a little farther than I should have before diving forward, but nerves and adrenaline were in high gear. When I finally dove in, I started to freestyle as best I could, considering I was surrounded by flailing hands and feet and arms and legs.
That's when things got dicey for me. If I wasn't swimming up and over the guys in front of me (heels to the face and shoulder), there was some guy swimming up on top of me from behind. I couldn't seem to get to an outside lane to get clear of traffic, and I wasn't relaxing (by any means) into my strong. Truth be told, I was a little panicked, and doubt flashed through my mind whether I was doing the right thing.
The first 200 yards of the swim were miserable going.
Then, our pack of swimmers strung out a bit and a gap opened up. I was able to make it to the outside of the pack and start to focus on relaxing during my stroke. I kept stroking and breathing, breathing and stroking, crawling through the water on the way to the first turn marker.
Because the level of the lake was so low, the first marker was in shallow (thigh-deep) water. Everyone took the liberty of standing up on bottom and running/wading around the marker. This change of posture was a nice respite from swimming for me, and when I dove into the water on the far side of the marker, I was getting more confident in my swimming, but GEEZ, it was a long swim. I'd only really done pool swimming, and since I'm not an expert at the flip turn, there's breaks built into my swimming.
Not out here in the lake. I did a little bit of backstroking to get a handle on my breathing. I never was able to get better than breathing every stroke. It was a tough slog.
By the time I was on the leg leading into shore, I was more than ready to get the hell out of the water. I was just so over the swim. My motivation for swimming the last 200 yards was "this is the only leg you can die on (by drowning) so just get it over with!" It was so inspirational to see the guys ahead of me pop up in the shallows that I got a burst of energy and swam quickly to where I could touch bottom with my hands. As I ran up the shore, I stopped and sat down in ankle-deep water to peel off my wet suit. It was a little bit of a struggle to get it off my legs (I'd put Body Glide on my calves to help with the process), and yes, it added time to my swim leg, but I more than made up for the delay via a quick T1 to the bike.
Wet suit in hand, I bade good riddance to the swim. My worst leg was over, now on to the fun stuff.
But before that could start, I had to run up the third-of-a-mile across the sandy shore to the transition area. During my run, I passed a couple folks who were faster swimmers than me, and huffing and puffing, I made it to my towel. Hey, Thom's bike was still in the transition area... I coulda sworn he'd be a better swimmer than me.
I rinsed off my feet, slipped into my shirt and put on my helmet/glasses/shoes before downing a Gu and drinking some carbo-water.
As I was about to grab my bike, Thom made it into T1. Turns out during the swim he started coughing up blood and had to grab onto a boat and get help. That explains why I was out of the water first.
I wished him luck and clipped into my bike to start my favorite leg of the race.
And I'll tell you about that leg in my next post.
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