June 17, 2007
1st in AG, 2nd in Masters, 3rd OA
Swim: 14:00
T1: 2:07
Bike: 35:22
T2: 1:33
Run: 21:15
Total: 1:14:17
Here are a couple kids playing in the snow before the swim start at Deep Lake. That's my kid Camille and her friend Sarah. (what? it didn't snow at that race? only felt like it, I guess).This was a sprint distance triathlon (1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike, 3 mile run) outside of Enumclaw. It was a 50 degree gray and rainy Sunday morning, one that most people would enjoy best by pulling up the covers, sleeping in and eventually sipping a latte’. Instead, I got out of bed around 4:30 and made the 1 hour drive to the race start, thinking “I’ll just show up, if it’s too cold and wet, I don’t have to do it”. As usual, I was one of the first to show up which is a good thing if you like an end spot on the bike rack (aka the transition area). Having an advantageous transition spot can save many seconds in your finish time, and as we’ll see later, boys and girls, may help you seize a podium finish over the next person. So, I checked in, got body marked (race number is penned onto one calf, your age onto the other; this is important when deciding when to overtake people on the bike or run course: “is she in my age group and do I make that extra effort to pass her?”). I racked my bike in a good end spot. Then I went back to my car, pulled up the blanket I keep on hand for such occasions and snoozed for about an hour. By the time I was up again, the check-in lines were long, transition was filling, the Port-a-Potty lines were long and I was ready to set up my transition area. So out goes the little orange towel with first my bike shoes, next the running shoes, ball cap and race belt. On the bike handle bars go the helmet (laid out “just so” and in proper alignment and with my eye wear unfolded and ready for a quick donning). Double checked the quick releases, brakes, made sure I was in a proper gear for the start of the bike and set up my sports drink in its cage. Next: laid out my long sleeve wetsuit, cap and goggles. Did I forget anything? No matter, I nervously check and recheck everything about 10 times until race time anyway.
So, now I put on those running shoes (with socks, which are typically eliminated for the actual race) and go take a nice warm up jog around the lake. Done. Then mill around, look for people I might know, make one last Port-a-Potty stop and check gear again. Move around, stay warm. Still thinking: “OK, I’ll put the wetsuit on, but if that lake is too cold, I don’t have to do this, I can still go home”. I put on the Body Glide (it’s waxy stuff that you apply to body parts that chafe or that you want slippery to help the wetsuit slide off of more easily, so I put it on my neck where the Velcro closure tends to rub that skin raw, on forearms to help the arms of the suit come off and to lower legs for the same reason). Properly lubed, the wetsuit goes on, which is an awkward and ungraceful feat that you’d rather not anyone witness (but there you are, in transition area with lots of spectators watching and other athletes doing the same thing). Cap on, goggles in hand and one last check to make sure the bike, shoes, helmet and everything are still “just so”, and it’s time to go to the lake shore. To wait. And wait. Many fools like a warm up swim in the water. Which “warm” it is not. They are the ones always shivering and blue, especially on a 50 degree rainy morning. The long sleeved wetsuit usually keeps me plenty warm while I wait, but this a.m. was chilly. I considered, well, peeing in the damn thing just to get some warmth going inside that suit, but decided to wait until the 5 minute, in-water wait where no one might notice anything escaping from the ankles of my wetsuit. So the first wave (the men) are off. Now the women go in and wait those 5 minutes for the gun. I’m feeling pretty confident about my swim, so I start at the front of the pack, which is a mistake if you are not very fast and don’t like getting swum over by others. I have experienced being overtaken and whacked by faster swimmers around me and the panicky feeling is not pleasant. But it passes. Fortunately, in this race, I actually was one of the fastest women (I think 3rd out of the water), so I was able to pull away from the pack quickly enough to avoid that drowning feeling.
Swim, swim, steady, steady, smooth, strong. Water is cool but fine. Round those buoys, pretty soon I’m overtaking some of the slowest men that went out 5 minutes before us. Swim some
more and after 3 turns of the triangle course, the swim finish arch on shore gets closer. My 14 minute swim ends as I swim in until hands touch bottom, stand and run. Now we’re into “T1” (transition 1), my specialty. I say that since I usually have one of the fastest T1 times. My secret? Don’t stand up until your hands touch bottom (struggling through thigh deep water is slow and takes more energy than 2 steps in calf-deep water). Then you haul your butt like you are racing, which, in fact, you are. My heart rate is often highest at this time. A few running strides to get going, then I find my wetsuit strap and unzip the thing and rip it off down to waist level (those tight arms slip right off thanks to the Body Glide and a little adrenaline). A few more strides and then I pull off cap and goggles as I continue running. I run hard up the chute and into transition. Pretty much snorting and breathing like a water buffalo struggling against alligators.
So, now I put on those running shoes (with socks, which are typically eliminated for the actual race) and go take a nice warm up jog around the lake. Done. Then mill around, look for people I might know, make one last Port-a-Potty stop and check gear again. Move around, stay warm. Still thinking: “OK, I’ll put the wetsuit on, but if that lake is too cold, I don’t have to do this, I can still go home”. I put on the Body Glide (it’s waxy stuff that you apply to body parts that chafe or that you want slippery to help the wetsuit slide off of more easily, so I put it on my neck where the Velcro closure tends to rub that skin raw, on forearms to help the arms of the suit come off and to lower legs for the same reason). Properly lubed, the wetsuit goes on, which is an awkward and ungraceful feat that you’d rather not anyone witness (but there you are, in transition area with lots of spectators watching and other athletes doing the same thing). Cap on, goggles in hand and one last check to make sure the bike, shoes, helmet and everything are still “just so”, and it’s time to go to the lake shore. To wait. And wait. Many fools like a warm up swim in the water. Which “warm” it is not. They are the ones always shivering and blue, especially on a 50 degree rainy morning. The long sleeved wetsuit usually keeps me plenty warm while I wait, but this a.m. was chilly. I considered, well, peeing in the damn thing just to get some warmth going inside that suit, but decided to wait until the 5 minute, in-water wait where no one might notice anything escaping from the ankles of my wetsuit. So the first wave (the men) are off. Now the women go in and wait those 5 minutes for the gun. I’m feeling pretty confident about my swim, so I start at the front of the pack, which is a mistake if you are not very fast and don’t like getting swum over by others. I have experienced being overtaken and whacked by faster swimmers around me and the panicky feeling is not pleasant. But it passes. Fortunately, in this race, I actually was one of the fastest women (I think 3rd out of the water), so I was able to pull away from the pack quickly enough to avoid that drowning feeling.
Swim, swim, steady, steady, smooth, strong. Water is cool but fine. Round those buoys, pretty soon I’m overtaking some of the slowest men that went out 5 minutes before us. Swim some
more and after 3 turns of the triangle course, the swim finish arch on shore gets closer. My 14 minute swim ends as I swim in until hands touch bottom, stand and run. Now we’re into “T1” (transition 1), my specialty. I say that since I usually have one of the fastest T1 times. My secret? Don’t stand up until your hands touch bottom (struggling through thigh deep water is slow and takes more energy than 2 steps in calf-deep water). Then you haul your butt like you are racing, which, in fact, you are. My heart rate is often highest at this time. A few running strides to get going, then I find my wetsuit strap and unzip the thing and rip it off down to waist level (those tight arms slip right off thanks to the Body Glide and a little adrenaline). A few more strides and then I pull off cap and goggles as I continue running. I run hard up the chute and into transition. Pretty much snorting and breathing like a water buffalo struggling against alligators.Back to my bike, I take off the rest of the wetsuit as quickly as possible. Which can go pretty fast actually, but a time warp phenomenon occurs that makes it seem like 5 minutes to get the ankles off. Bike shoes on now. Eye wear on, helmet on and strapped. Grab bike from rack and run with it as fast as possible while dodging other racers who are in various stages of their T1 and I’m out the gate. Onto the bike and off for a ride. A ride in 50 degree, rain. And I’ve got my wet hair and wet Lycra/spandex race suit on and plenty of wet, exposed flesh. But it’s just a 12 mile ride which takes about 35 minutes and I’m working hard enough that, though I feel the cold, I don’t “get” cold, if you follow me. Feet, of course, go numb, but who cares? I won’t need them until I’m running on them later.
Back in for T2 now. I do these fairly fast, but today I’m behind 2 guys lallygagging their way up the chute and blocking my passage. Dum dee dum dee….ok here’s an opening, I’m back and re-rack the bike, remove helmet and bike shoes and cram the feet into running shoes. Grab cap and race belt and as I’m running out, I put those 2 things on. The run was a trail run which has some roots and rocks under normal conditions, but today the added bonus is large puddles and slickery slick mud patches. And the feeling of having Novocaine from the ankles down. But everyone is running under the same conditions, so no worries. It’s during the run that I notice a couple women with their ages on their calves and pass a few of them. Oh, good, there’s one in my age group. By now, since it was a small race, I’ve been able to kind of guess where I am in the field of women. I was 3rd out of the water, then slipped a few notches to 6th biking (my weakest leg). But I’ve lost count. All I know is I’m passing a few of them now on the run and later, much to my surprise I discover that I’ll have the 2nd fastest run time of the women. But for right now, I know I’m nearing the end and there is one more woman up ahead I’d like to overtake. I’m tired and I don’t want to try it too soon lest her kick has more in it than mine. So I do the stealth thing and continue to close in on her without depleting myself. But wait! She’s got a cheering squad and reconnaissance on the race course! They are yelling and screaming at her, warning her of my presence. Their excitement makes me think this race is for the money! Stealth is no good now, especially since I can see the finish line about 150 yards ahead. Pedal to the metal, I go past her (with a quick look at her calf I see that she is a mere 29 years old which adds to my satisfaction immensely) and hang on to the end. I soon find out that the 3 seconds I beat her by were the difference between a coveted podium finish of 3rd place vs. 4th (actually, there was no podium at all, it’s just a metaphor). This was my first race were I got an overall placing (overall = against all women, not just in my age group) and a finish like that was really fun, so I was happy. More importantly, my swim, bike and run splits were all a bit faster than the same race a year ago, so beating my own time is what it’s all about. In case I’m sounding too cocky right about now, you’ll have to read on to my next race report (USAT Age Group Nationals) as poetic justice comes into play. What comes around, goes around.
Back in for T2 now. I do these fairly fast, but today I’m behind 2 guys lallygagging their way up the chute and blocking my passage. Dum dee dum dee….ok here’s an opening, I’m back and re-rack the bike, remove helmet and bike shoes and cram the feet into running shoes. Grab cap and race belt and as I’m running out, I put those 2 things on. The run was a trail run which has some roots and rocks under normal conditions, but today the added bonus is large puddles and slickery slick mud patches. And the feeling of having Novocaine from the ankles down. But everyone is running under the same conditions, so no worries. It’s during the run that I notice a couple women with their ages on their calves and pass a few of them. Oh, good, there’s one in my age group. By now, since it was a small race, I’ve been able to kind of guess where I am in the field of women. I was 3rd out of the water, then slipped a few notches to 6th biking (my weakest leg). But I’ve lost count. All I know is I’m passing a few of them now on the run and later, much to my surprise I discover that I’ll have the 2nd fastest run time of the women. But for right now, I know I’m nearing the end and there is one more woman up ahead I’d like to overtake. I’m tired and I don’t want to try it too soon lest her kick has more in it than mine. So I do the stealth thing and continue to close in on her without depleting myself. But wait! She’s got a cheering squad and reconnaissance on the race course! They are yelling and screaming at her, warning her of my presence. Their excitement makes me think this race is for the money! Stealth is no good now, especially since I can see the finish line about 150 yards ahead. Pedal to the metal, I go past her (with a quick look at her calf I see that she is a mere 29 years old which adds to my satisfaction immensely) and hang on to the end. I soon find out that the 3 seconds I beat her by were the difference between a coveted podium finish of 3rd place vs. 4th (actually, there was no podium at all, it’s just a metaphor). This was my first race were I got an overall placing (overall = against all women, not just in my age group) and a finish like that was really fun, so I was happy. More importantly, my swim, bike and run splits were all a bit faster than the same race a year ago, so beating my own time is what it’s all about. In case I’m sounding too cocky right about now, you’ll have to read on to my next race report (USAT Age Group Nationals) as poetic justice comes into play. What comes around, goes around.
A postscript to this race report that I wrote 6/07: As I was doing some on-line stalking one recent evening, I came across Coach Jill's website and her athlete clients and their blogs. Posted there was an account of this race by Jessi, the woman who I passed in the last 150 yards of the run. I think she and I are cut from the same cloth, though I think her fire burns a little hotter than mine (sorry about the mixed metaphors there). I love her determination and honesty about her competitiveness. I expect to see her gobble up lots of competitors in future races. I will savor this win since I suspect it may be my only one against her. I don't mean that as a gloating comment, but rather as a sign of respect for her abilities and mental strength. Go Jessi! I hope I can catch you on the run again sometime!
Check out Jessi's version of this race at her blog: http://hardpart.blogspot.com/2007/06/cascades-edge-sprint-race-report.html
I happen to be in the swimphoto on her page (the purple cap on the right).
Here are some crummy photos from that race. First is the wet skimpy Lycra in the cold rain, next I'm cut off in other people’s photos (but caught in the act of overtaking or about to overtake them : ) (not only do I like overtaking younger people, men will do too). The photos are poor quality but I include the links to them if you are interested...).
Stay tuned for the next race report.
http://www.finishshots.com/popup.php?z=%2FPhotos%2F2007%2FCascadeEdgeTriathlon%2F401%2FDSC_0043.jpg&width=184&height=274&title=Preview biking
Here are some crummy photos from that race. First is the wet skimpy Lycra in the cold rain, next I'm cut off in other people’s photos (but caught in the act of overtaking or about to overtake them : ) (not only do I like overtaking younger people, men will do too). The photos are poor quality but I include the links to them if you are interested...).
Stay tuned for the next race report.
http://www.finishshots.com/popup.php?z=%2FPhotos%2F2007%2FCascadeEdgeTriathlon%2F401%2FDSC_0043.jpg&width=184&height=274&title=Preview biking
http://www.finishshots.com/popup.php?z=%2FPhotos%2F2007%2FCascadeEdgeTriathlon%2F101%2FDSC_0441.jpg&width=184&height=274&title=Preview running (right out of the frame)
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