2011 triathlon season is finally over. For a while I didn't know if I'd make it. I've had a lot of fun, enjoyed some success, and seen some good improvements. But a few months ago I realized that I was mentally just DONE. Not done with triathlon for good, but I do need a break. I could force my body to keep going, but if I'm mentally burned out and not enjoying it, what would be the point? So the plan became, just make it through Long Course WCs and then take as much time as you need. I wouldn't sign up for anything until I was itching to race and train again. I'd spend time with Kai, pay more attention to my job, and hopefully even investigate what the phrase "social activity" means.
It was a good plan, and the right plan, but what it meant was that as time went by and my "A" race drew closer, what I was looking forward to most was it just being OVER. Tough to get motivated to perform when you're thinking like that. I did what I needed to to prepare myself physically but my brain was not quite bought in to the idea. And on a course with 7000+ feet of climbing on a 75 mile bike, followed by 2000 feet of climbing on an 18.6 mile run, my head, heart, and body were all gonna have to be engaged. I put my trust in the hope that when I finally got there, I'd catch the race fever and start getting excited.
I was very fortunate that my parents and best friend Rich were all able to come out and support me. We stayed in a nice house in a great part of Henderson, NV. My coach was also racing, so it was really great to have her there as well, especially since I don't get to see her much.
In the last few days leading up to the race, my thoughts and emotions were all over the place. I was nervous, I was excited, I was ready, I was terrified. Fortunately, having my coach there and also reminding myself that I've raced plenty of times before, I know how to do this, helped me to go through the motions of what I needed to do to prepare without overthinking things too much.
The weather had been beautiful the few days we'd been in Henderson so far except for some rain that had passed through the previous day, but race morning dawned clear and COLD- somewhere in the upper 30s. I was gathering my nutrition bottles and getting ready to head to the start when I got a call from my coach- "Swim is canceled". Um, whut?? For a second I thought it was a joke, but clearly it wasn't. Combined air and water temps did not meet the safety standard of the ITU, so there would be no swim. We would start out of T1 on the bike.
OK, I thought, readjustment time. I did take a small moment to note the interesting coincidence- at Myrtle Beach last year, the qualifier for this race, the swim was also canceled. And not only that, but I had done two other races this year that had canceled swims- IMNOLA and 5150 NOLA. I also took a moment to be kinda bummed that I wouldn't be doing a Long Course Triathlon today. I'd be doing a Long Course Bike/Run. But there wasn't time to dwell on it, I had to get to the start and get myself re-calibrated. Race day always throws some unpredictable stuff your way, and how well you adapt can make all the difference in whether it throws your whole day off or not. I was finally calm, I was ready- let's do this.
The race officials pushed back the start time to let everyone make their adjustments. I did all the normal pre-race stuff- putting nutrition on the bike, pumping the tires- then picked up my T1 bag with all my bike stuff in it and brought it back to Jen's room. My coach had gotten a condo that was about 10 yards from T1, so it was the perfect staging/waiting location. She, her friend Cristy and I waited, warm and stress-free, until it was time to go down to T1 to start. They were starting us on the bike one at a time at 5-second intervals in race number order. Mine was the first one up, so when they called all the 600s I said my goodbyes and headed down to Hazel waiting for me.
It still wasn't even 40 degrees, so I decided to go with vest, arm warmers, leg warmers and gloves for the bike. I wound my way up the hill out of transition as part of a giant slow-moving bike-walking procession. Up to the top, it was finally my turn, and off I went to tackle the hills of the Nevada desert.
The thought of whether or not I would survive this bike course had been haunting me for months. I'm generally a pretty good climber, but there's just no way to adequately prepare for the amount of climbing on this course in the flat swamplands of south Louisiana. I did the Six Gap Century ride in Georgia about six weeks earlier, which was the most climbing I had EVER EVER done and was a lot more than I'd be doing in the race today, but it had taken completely everything I had to finish that. There was NO way I'd have been able to run after. But I also knew that I had done everything my coach told me to do to prepare, and I trust her completely. I kept telling myself that even if I doubted myself, I didn't doubt her- so when she says I'm ready, I must be. As I rolled out of transition, clicked my feet in and started pedaling, I knew that there was no more time to worry. I'd been building up my training bank account all year and now was the time to cash out.
To sum up the entire bike ride- it was GREAT. It went just about as good as it possibly could have. I rode conservatively but not scared. I spun up the hills to save my legs and took advantage of the downhills as much as I could. I never looked at my watch; I knew I was riding as steady and strong as I could while still saving my legs to be able to run. There were high and low moments as I knew there would be, but mentally this was easily the best long bike ride I've ever had in a race. I was appreciating the beautiful desert scenery, I shouted encouragement to other riders as we passed, I stayed focused on each hill and section of the course. I especially enjoyed when my coach flew by me as if I were standing still :) I was definitely working, but I actually enjoyed myself out there!
Reason #437 that my coach is a genius: it was SUCH a good thing that I'd done Six Gap (which was her idea). Every time a hill got tough or my legs felt a little burn, I could truthfully remind myself that it was nothing compared to what I'd ridden out there. Knowing that I'd made it through something that was so much tougher gave me a ton of confidence- definitely a welcome feeling, since the bike is where I normally feel the least sure of myself.
Near the end of the course are three hills called the Three Sisters. They're short but very steep climbs back-to-back-to-back. I had the thought of these on the back of my mind the whole ride, hoping that I'd have enough to get over them without trashing my legs right before I got to the run. What made me the most nervous was that I hadn't seen them yet- they're on a bike trail through an area where there are no roads, so I couldn't get out to see them before the race. I'd heard they were STEEP, but I had no idea how much or how long they were.
When I finally rounded a turn on the trail and saw what looked like a vertical wall of asphalt in front of me, I knew I had reached them. But then, my immediate reaction took me by surprise- a message flashed through my mind as clear as if there were a billboard in my head: "BRING IT." A devilish smile spread across my face. I got up to the hill, dropped it into my climbing gear, and was up and over practically before my legs even started to burn. Yeah, it was steep- but Hogpen (at Six Gap) was steep like that for SEVEN MILES. This course had nothin' on me ;)
I was feeling so good that as I crested the top of the third one, I turned to a spectator and joked, "Is THAT it??" After that it was a fairly easy ride back into town, except for the truck that almost ran me over. I had been growing more and more eager to finish the bike, as I normally do in long races, but today it was for a different reason. Usually I just want to get OFF the damn bike, but today I was feeling so good that I just wanted to RUN already! I knew I had ridden the course exactly as I should have, and I couldn't wait to see what my legs had in them.
Turned into transition, tossed Hazel to a volunteer, in and out of the changing tent with the best volunteers ever, and finally I was running! The run course was 4 loops, each made up of two out-and-backs heading out of the transition/finish area two different ways (which meant that I got to pass the finish line about eight times!). In one direction you were heading uphill, and then downhill the other way. So it was two miles up, two miles down for 18+ miles. My legs unfolded just as I'd hoped- yeah they were tired, but they were moving and there was definitely fuel left in the tank.
The uphill/downhill was going fine, I was enjoying the cheers from the spectators (especially my parents, Rich, and Jen's husband Dave) and all was well, until about halfway through the second lap. I started getting stomach cramps that were just annoying at first, then painful, then FRIGGIN OW to the point where I was thinking I might have to stop, because the jarring from each step was really hurting. I rounded a turn where I thought I might see my parents, and I was glad I didn't because it would have been hard to smile at that point. The only thing I could think of was that some Coke might settle my stomach, so I decided I'd go for it at the next aid station. That's always a gamble early in the run, because you can't run on Coke forever- once you start on it, your time is limited. But there was absolutely no way I was taking in any more of my gel flask, so Coke it was. And it was magic- almost immediately I started feeling better.
It was still tough to take in fluids though, and I knew the desert air was probably sucking a lot more water out of me than I realized, so I was just crossing my fingers and hoping I'd have enough to make it to the end. I was still moving really well but the uphills were getting harder and the downhills were definitely getting more painful. Early on in the fourth and final loop, my legs really started to feel it. They were getting heavy like bags of sand. I could tell I was in a calorie/fluid deficit and that eventually it would catch up to me- I just hoped I'd hit the finish line first! I hit the bottom turnaround and thought, here we go- ONE more 2-mi uphill, then coast a mile downhill to the finish; do my legs have ONE more climb in them? Heck yeah!
I passed the finish line for the umpteenth time, but it was also the LAST time I had to pass by it- next time would finally be MY turn! I headed around the corner for the fourth and last pass up what I was calling the Hill to Forever- over a mile straight up a looong road. There were runners, runners, runners as far as the eye could see. My bags of sand that used to be legs were threatening to quit but I was not listening. Not now! Just make it to the turnaround, smooth sailing downhill from there... When I finally got there, I remember thinking, I got this now- even if my legs DO give out, I could ROLL downhill from here!
I was in the last mile of the last race of my whole season. I had done everything exactly as I should. Even with the few surprises that race day had brought, my day had gone exceptionally well. And an offseason of seemingly unlimited possibilities was right there up ahead of me. With those thoughts and many others swirling through my head, my feet lifted and carried me on my fastest mile of the day, joyfully through to the finish line. Finally, I got to go LEFT at the sign that said "FINISH LEFT/ 2ND, 3RD, 4TH LOOPS RIGHT"!!
And just like that, it was over. My legs had made it after all, I had survived the bike, the course hadn't killed me, and I hadn't even come in last! I hadn't exactly finished too high in my AG either, but I really wasn't worried about that. It was truly a world-class field out there, and just to be able to go out and race with them and to wear the USA uniform was really an awesome experience. Of course without my coach, none of it would have even come close to happening. And without my parents and Rich as an awesome support crew, it would not have been nearly as enjoyable.
So now, offseason- I said I wasn't going to put any kind of timeline on when I'd come back, whether it was a month or a year or whatever. I'd come back when I really WANTED to come back. The rest has really been great, mentally and physically, and sleeping in on a Saturday morning was an exquisite luxury I had forgotten existed. I figured it would be at least a few months of total downtime, but it's been two weeks now and I *think* I just felt a little itch... the kind that only gets scratched by training and racing...........
