The Rest of the Race

After the aforementioned swim in English Bay (Vancouver: The Swim), there was still a 40 K (about 24 mile) bike ride followed by a 10 K (about 6 miles) run before this race would be over. Transition 1 started OK, but I slowed down after the longish run to my bike, was a bit sluggish pulling of the wetsuit, decided to wear socks and a windbreaker because of the cool weather but finally got going with my bike for another longish run out of the transition area. I think my T1 was about 7 minutes which is a very long time.

I started the first of 4 loops around Stanley Park and as I expected, got passed regularly by the younger women who were already out on the course doing their 2nd, 3rd or 4th laps (having started their race up to an hour before my wave went out). By my 2nd lap I expected to see the older women's wave coming onto the course and by the 3rd lap, I was sure the men would be passing me in droves. But this never happened. Each lap got less crowded and I suspected the race had been suspended. I'd later find out that after my wave had gone out for the swim, the swim had been cancelled for the remaining waves (the women 55 and older and all the men) due to adverse weather conditions.

I practically had all of Stanley Park to myself with the shivering volunteers half-heartedly cheering me on. My riding is what I'd call a hard workout, but I never really felt like I was racing. The swim had taken a lot out of me and I just wasn't feeling competitive. A few women in my age group passed me (in addition to those younger ones). Sad to say, the only riders I passed were a few AWAD's cranking along in their racing wheelchairs. My heart rate was up in the low 160's, which is where it normally would be in a race when I feel I'm pushing hard on the bike. So I guess I wasn't slacking too much.

(There I am checking out the course the day before the race; definitely slacking here). - >

On to T2 with that being significant only because I could see that, yes, the race was continuing and not cancelled and I would now have to go run. I thought maybe I'd snap out of this flat race I was having and be able to pass some able-bodied woman in my age group.

I wanted to start the run under control and not go out too fast. Since I had not trained enough to do an Olympic race anywhere near my best, I was OK with keeping the running going however I needed to, even at a comfortable jog if need be. In the first 1/2 mile I started to struggle - my tank felt empty, no energy was in me. When running gets hard (and it's almost always hard, but when it gets really hard...) I start my "I will not stop, I do not walk" mantra. That has gotten me up many a hill. At about 3/4 mile, my mind said "I will walk, I will walk". Soon my body followed and when the next water station came along, I took a breather. The little walk break didn't help for long, the rest of my so-called race now became a series of "Just make it to the next water stop" or "Just don't stop to walk in front of this crowd of spectators". I had mentally thrown in the towel and I was just dead tired.

Thinking back, I had drunk only about 1/2 of the sport drink during the bike (I normally would have drunk it all, providing some extra calories for the run to come). The fatigue in the run came around the 2 hour point in my race and assuming I probably burned extra calories in the cold and churning swim, I think I basically "bonked".

In endurance sports, particularly cycling and running, bonk or hitting the wall describes the condition when an athlete suddenly loses energy and becomes fatigued, the result of glycogen stores in the liver and muscles becoming depleted. The average human body stores enough glycogen to generate 1500 to 2000 kcal of energy. Intense cycling or running can easily consume 600-800 or more kcal per hour. Unless glycogen stores are replenished during exercise, glycogen stores will be depleted after 2 hours of continuous cycling or 15 to 20 miles (24 to 32 km) of running.
- Wikipedia

Bonk or no bonk on the run, that couldn't have been my excuse for the mediocre bike ride. And what's with letting myself get depleted in the first place? I think I should know better.

See this really slick hydration system (the aero-water bottle that I have to rubber band, stick a cut-off cup bottom over and secure with strapping tape)??? That mess contained the Cytomax I was supposed to be drinking. And speaking of aero-anything, the only time I was going fast enough for some sort of "aero" position to be helpful was on the downhills when my hands needed to be on the brake levers. I ought to get rid of those aero-bars.

I walked more and more, as frequently as every 1/4 mile, towards the end. Though I didn't really relish the thought of coming in last (which was getting to be a very real possibility), the good news is, I enjoyed myself. I chatted it up with the friendly race volunteers and cracked jokes with them as I sipped my Gatorade and watched yet another straggler on the course get ahead of me. This was no longer a race (I don't know that it ever was a race, for me). The sun was finally out, all I had to do was finish the course so why not enjoy it rather than suffer?

The hardest part was the long finish chute where I did not want to walk (neither did I feel the need to put forth some ridiculous and meaningless finishing surge). I crossed the finish line and was welcomed by more race volunteers who flattered me with congratulations and asking me how my race went (you get that 1:1 attention when you are trickling in at the end of the pack). I felt happy to swallow my pride, blab away with a few of them and laugh at myself.

This was not a race for me to have been competitive or to seek any PR's. But I did expect to actually RUN the entire run and maybe pass a few people. That I didn't was a combination of 3 important things: insufficient training, insufficient calorie intake (the bonk) and mentally giving up. When I later checked my heart rate monitor, I saw my HR max was 187. It's never been that high before (the late stages of a hard race and maybe it's in the low 180's). Something was up with this body of mine. After the race, I collected my gear, rode my bike around Vancouver's waterfront while there was a bit of sunshine, eventually showered, then enjoyed a Mojito with Sandy. On to the reception and snacks for Team USA and I was feeling fine. No sore muscles or unusual fatigue that day or the next. Go figure.

Last I looked, final results STILL are not posted, now 2 weeks later. But my time was about 3:01 with the 10K "run" being around 1 hr. My best indicator of how I "should" have done is by looking at the times of two local women who I've raced against several times. Both Sandy L. and Debbie G. consistently finish within 3-4 minutes of me. In this race they were about 30 and 35 minutes ahead of me. They could be stronger than ever, but even so, had I been able to have something closer to my normal race, I think I should have finished somewhere nearer to them, which would have put me, as it did them, about mid-pack for our age group. I would have been quite pleased with that outcome! But my 3:01 put me last for the American 50-54 women and probably 57th out of about 66 for all women in our age-group (again, the final results are pending).

Favorite road-trip CD? Into the Wild by Eddie Vedder for sure.

I still don't know what my goals are for this '08 season. I'm not all that focused and that's OK, I have other important things to do this summer. But I will not take for granted any of last season's successes now. I better appreciate how the hard work and the time taken training plus the setting of goals added up to some good past seasons.

Whilst I was road-tripping home on Sunday afternoon and clicking a photo of myself driving with the bike in the back of the car ( the photo above), I accidentally snapped this picture of the inside of my car. There, pinned to the ceiling, is a photo of me and my pal Darcy in a happy, smiling moment at the finish of another triathlon a few years ago. And there, see that circular thing that says "USAT"? That was quite an unexpected surprise. A month or two ago I received that patch and a certificate in the mail from USAT. Apparently my '07 ranking earned me "the distinction of an All American Honorable Mention" according to the certificate.

OK then, one bad race be damned! I'll interpret this accidental photo as a message! Get to work then go out and try again another day. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Vancouver: The Swim

The International Triathlon Union (ITU) World Championships were held in Vancouver, B.C. last week, June 3 ,4, 5 and 6. Each day included races for different categories of athletes including Juniors, Under 23, Elites, AWAD (“Athletes With A Disability”) and my group, the Age Groupers (for both a sprint and an olympic distance race). Triathletes came from all over the world making for an interesting mix of languages, accents and team uniforms. The Age Groupers for Team USA numbered about 400, with around 20 being in my age group (about 67 total from all countries).

I got the car all packed, found my passport and started a little Road Trip.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blog entries, I had concerns about facing the cold water in English Bay in Vancouver and I knew my lack of consistency and volume (hours per week) in training would limit my race. Still, I aimed to have fun, get in a good workout, accept the certainty of a race without any PR’s and enjoy the experience of being part of group of internationally accomplished age-group athletes (even though some part of me wasn’t convinced that I really deserved to be there, I did qualify fair and square).

The afternoon of my arrival to Vancouver and the next day involved team pictures, a team meeting, team dinners and breakfasts, riding the bike course around Stanley Park and racking the bike in the transition area. I met many new Team USA people (most seemed to be from warmer climates and didn't quite know what to make of the 50 degree rain). I saw Dave and Francie, the couple I'd met at Nationals a year ago and recognized some others from last year as well.

Finally race morning arrives! After setting up my transition area and going for a jog, it was time to head for the beach.

I wanted to take a picture of some spectators. Many were bundled up in fur-trimmed parkas, wore thick gloves and winter boots. And here we were about to swim in this cold, grey water followed by a bike ride in skimpy wet lycra.

Slaying Dragons

Camera crews were here and there at the beach. As I waited in the corral before going onto the beach, one big lens was in my face (ugh! I go mute when asked anything in front of a camera). The cameraman asks me something about the race or why I am doing this to which I answer: “I’m here to slay my personal dragons…I’m going to face that water”.

HUH??? What the heck is she talking about? That probably ended up on the editing room floor. But actually, I had thought about this metaphor before, my dragons being things like Fear, Doubt, Pride, Laziness. Fear about facing the cold and the discomfort of racing, of looking slow, inept, old, ridiculous; doubt about my abilities and about my business to be here; pride having to do with some self-imposed pressure to improve my own performance and maybe not being able to do so. Also pride being the impulse to just give up rather than have a mediocre or even a bad race. And laziness - staying in a warm bed sure seemed appealing that morning! Those dragons and others are part of the human experience that I believe visit all areas of our lives at times (except for a few egomaniacs and those with delusions of grandeur who crash arrogantly through life). Athletic competition provides practice in slaying dragons.

(No actual dragons were harmed in the race or the writing of this blog. Any resemblance to actual dragons is purely coincidental. The author neither endorses nor condones mistreatment of actual dragons, and apologizes to any dragons that may take offense at the metaphorical use of "slaying dragons".)

Cold…

The big topic of the weekend was the weather! Even for the Pacific Northwest, it was unseasonably cool. Because of the cold weather and many hypothermia cases in the Thursday and Friday races, race officials shortened the Saturday AG swim from 1500 meters to 1100. Each day of the championships had some combination of cool, wet and/or windy conditions. My Age Group wave was the lucky one to experience all 3 and to such an extreme that just after they sent us out for our swim, the swim portion was canceled for the remaining Age Groupers, 2/3 of the pack consisting of women 55 and older and ALL of the men. For these groups, the race converted to a Duathalon (run 5K, bike 40K, run 5K), which caused much grumbling in some and much relief in others.

(This picture is the next day just before the Elite women started. They had calm water as you can see. And a lot more photographers clamoring around the start line.)

The water temperature reports varied from 11 degrees Celsius to 12.8 depending on what news source you got (that’s 51.8 to 55 degrees Fahrenheit). Air temperatures were in the low 50’s and who-knows-what with the wind chill. Any way you slice it, that’s darn chilly by most OW swim standards. I kind of think 55 was closest to accurate for my swim. The cold water wasn’t painful on my face and was tolerable once I started swimming.

…and Wind

The canceling of the swim was not due to mere chilly water, however. The wind picked up suddenly about 1 hour before my race and increased in intensity as my start time of 8:05 a.m. approached. All across English Bay, there were white caps and swells. The waves crashing on the beach weren’t too bad, but the buoys and boats rocked wildly offshore. One news report I read later mentioned “adverse weather conditions”, “nasty 5 foot wind-chop”, “raging currents driving swimmers towards shore”, and “moiling water” (online definitions for “moiling” include: to churn about continuously; confusion, turmoil; violently agitated; turbulent). Here’s an article: http://www.insidetri.com/article/71453/cold-water-high-waves-throw-itu-age-group-world

I later chatted with a swim volunteer who said the rescue boats (and there were precious few of them for those conditions!) pulled around 20 women out from my wave and the boats were capsizing in the surf! I found this clip on You Tube showing a few seconds of the waves during the swim exit for an earlier wave of swimmers: Waves:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=889400540020585501&q=Vancouver+triathlon+2008&ei=B9JMSJuyBqCm4QLS8bWMDA&hl=en

Here’s my experience in the water: God Awful! For some insane reason, I found myself front and center at the start line (around 130 women, age 45 to 54). Even in a small local race where I’m likely do well in the swim, I avoid front and center. At Worlds I should have been off at the edges and definitely not in front. The gun went off (kind of hard to hear as the neoprene cap and second, colored swim cap kind of muffled sound) and we ran into the surf, diving into the swell. I’m on auto-pilot for a few moments and swim hard out of excitement.

(This photo - not my own - is from the Elite women's race on Sunday, a much smaller group and I notice none of them wear the neoprene caps that many of us had. Made of tougher stuff, I guess.)

Something Resembling Swimming

Excitement turns to near-terror for a few moments as I realize this ain’t no normal swim. Next, it was just bewildering (time for another online definition; bewilder: to cause to lose one's bearings; to perplex or confuse especially by a complexity, variety, or multitude of objects or considerations). The agitated water was a challenge (what I’m doing barely resembled or felt like normal swimming and it took my full attention to avoid freaking out about this somewhat alien environment). All the flailing bodies make me realize I just need to get the hell out of the pack. I accomplished this by moving forward and diagonally and allowing them to go around me. Thankfully, no one tried to swim OVER me, (maybe my defensive kicking kept that at bay). I think getting pushed under would have put me over the edge on managing this. I needed to stop and breast stroke plenty of times in the first couple minutes and less so as I got some space around me.

Be The Dolphin

Soon I get into as close to a steady rhythm as swimming in a washing machine can allow. My goals were to just keep moving forward, avoid swallowing/inhaling too much salt water, avoid nausea or vertigo if possible and stay in control of my mind to avoid pushing any panic buttons. Stroke timing was mostly dictated by the rise and fall of waves and I felt rolled about. I can’t say that I swam all that hard as I didn’t want to go to the edge of breathlessness and fatigue. I felt like I needed some reserve for the occasional smack of salt water in the face that robbed me of a breath when I wanted one. The pack was very spread out and I could tell I was closer to the rear. Which was ok with me. Being bewildered and all, I forgot my mantra "Be the Dolphin" (a team dinner 2 nights earlier was held at the Vancouver Aquarium where I enjoyed the underwater viewing tank and watching dolphins dart around. I thought visualizing that grace, speed and ease would be a nice thought for the race. Nice thought).

Turning towards shore, the waves now helped by pushing me along. My hand felt the bottom, then I was raised by the surf and lost contact. Next thing I know, I’m abruptly dumped onto my knees in 6 inches of receding waters. Sensing my opportunity, I scurried out before the next surge could catch me. I was surprised by the lack of dizziness and ability to immediately run, unzip and pulled off cap and goggles and I headed into T1.

Lisa Walker (45-49), Tracy Orcutt (40-44) and Sandy Laurence (50-54) are racing acquaintances from the Seattle area who had good races that started with good solid swims. Lisa and Tracy are usually tops in their age groups and usually earn overall podium finishes and Sandy is no stranger to the podium for our AG. Final results are still pending, but I'm sure congratulations are in order to each of them and I hope they are pleased with their races.

Next: Transition 1 and beyond…stay tuned.

There is Dave C. from California, our unofficial USAT cheerleader. He kind of badgered me into staying in the race when I was close to pulling out last April.

Birthdays and A Swim

Another birthday just went by, but it wasn't an "Aging Up". Those only come every 5 years.

Speaking of 5 years, this is my fifth -- >

I had no special plans for The Big Day, May 31, so decided to join a group of OW swimmers for a swim around Seward Park. Some women get a nice facial, a pedicure, a massage or wined and dined on their birthday. Me? A cold, grey swim over milfoil and mossy submerged tires in the lake was the event of the day this year.

Actually, some of the swimmers from the "Phinney Ridge Swim Club" decided to make this swim a fund raiser to coincide with a walking event going on at Seward Park that day to support clean drinking water (and how clean is the water that invariably gets swallowed by me each time I swim?). http://www.water1st.org/involved/carry5.html

< -- My first birthday. My brother Tommy was born 9 days later. If you ask my mom about the ages of her 2 kids, it's not that we are "a year apart", which could imply a year and 6 months maybe, or a year and 10 months. She will always say "A year and 9 days apart" then follow up with a comment about having a one-year-old underfoot and a newborn about to arrive. Just in case you weren't clear on the fact that she had her hands full and they were about to get fuller: "A year and 9 days". Maybe that's why I stopped at one child.

As one of the swimmers reported later, "we raised over $700 for this event and the organizers were delighted, surprised, and amused by the 9 members who showed up in wetsuits. It was flat and chilly water but we all finished within 1:10, a good result for an early season swim of that distance."

My brother Tommy and me on my 2nd birthday -- >

<-- My 4th birthday!

Fund raising for good causes is all fine and dandy, but I needed another dip in cold water to feel ready for next weekend's swim up in Vancouver and a longer swim would be a good idea too.

This is my brother Tommy literally diving into his first birthday cake. Most likely we've got some sibling rivalry already going on as some push/shove happens to gain access to the cake -- >

...and below, Tommy is ready to attack another cake on his second birthday.

I was told circumnavigating Seward Park is about 2.5 miles, making the swim an "over-distance" kind of workout since the distance for next week's race is about 0.9 mile or 1500 meters. Lake Washington was 58 degrees as of May 27 and was probably near that for this swim. And how do I know this? Here is a link for local beach information, things like weekly temperatures, beach closures, e. coli and fecal coliform counts (doesn't that chocolate cake look yummy?) - details you might or might not wonder about before going out to the lake:

http://dnr.metrokc.gov/wlr/waterres/swimbeach/BeachData.aspx?locator=0813SB

I was the slow swimmer of the day. Some fast, strong swimmers lead the group and others wore fins (I didn't; I'm not used to them and so they tend to give my feet cramps). Anyway, the water felt just right after the initial minute or two of getting used to the cold.

This is from my 50th birthday last year - - >

Later that evening I enjoyed going out for pizza (not just any pizza, but "Serious Pie" which dishes up some seriously tasty pie) and drinks with my friend Patty, her girls and Camille and Camille's dad.

It was a low key, pleasant birthday with no expectations, so, no disappointments.

Tommy just turned 50 on June 9 and I hope he had a good birthday.

Vancouver Sneak Preview

It will take me a bit longer to prepare my Race Report from last weekend's race in Vancouver, the World Championships. That's me with the blue shoulder stripes on the left - >

Perhaps you, my audience (all 3 of you), can help me by choosing an apt title for the upcoming blog post. Consider it a sneak preview of how my race went, but here are some options for titles and sub-titles (feel free to offer your own). Just go ahead and enter a comment so I know someone is out there:

• Vancouver Kicked My Butt
• Something Resembling Swimming
• Kept It Under the Panic Level
• Agitation Cycle
• Capsizing Rescue Boats (the surf did it, not me)
• A Slice of Humble Pie
• Slaying My Dragons: Fear, Doubt, Pride
• Lap 4 of the Bike Route a Ghost Town
• Passed NO ONE on the Bike
• Something Sometimes Resembling Running
• Lessons In Under-Training
• The Courage To Be Last
• A Shadow of My Former Self
• Getting to Know the Friendly Volunteers
• Making Excuses
• Throwing in the Towel
• My So-Called Race
• Is This Bonking?
• I DID IT!